“Because,” Jesse says, patting my knee and then getting up, “you’re safe now, Ari. Nobody’s going to mess with you.”
“What?” I ask, my eyes following him as he moves over to his desk, writing something down on a piece of paper. “What are you talking about?”
“You don’t have to worry about Wright anymore,” Rafe murmurs, flicking his eyes up to me and then down to his notebook he pulls onto his lap, where he’s started making a packing list so that we can go home for winter break. “He’s under full guard until his trial. Plus, everyone’s scared shitless of Jackson now after his display at the bridge, which we’ve all heard about. So, we don’t have to stalk you so much.”
“What these two are leaving out,” Ben stage-whispers to me, loud enough so that Jesse and Rafe can hear, “is that they also kicked the shit out of Wright at the warrior finals.”
“What!?” I gasp, appalled.
“We only kicked the shit out of him a little bit,” Rafe says, holding up two fingers held very close together in front of his face. “Just…a teeny tiny amount.”
“Rafe!” I shout, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at him. “You shouldn’t have done that – you should have just let dad and the authorities handle it! This could get in the way of the investigation!”
“I don’t know why you’re surprised,” Jesse calls on his way to the dumbwaiter with a note, blasé. “Did you think we were just going to let him get away with it?”
“It’s not your job to administer justice!” I shout, throwing out my hands.
“Well, whatever,” Rafe sighs, completely ignoring my outrage. “We weren’t even the first ones to do it, by the looks of things.”
“What?” I gasp.
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