I slip in the desk beside Ethan just as the bell rings. “You gave my brother a black eye,” he whispers. At first I think he's mad, but then he holds up his knuckle, and I bump mine against his. “You are my hero.” “Is it bad?” I ask, biting my lip. Ok, I realize that maybe I overreacted just a little bit, but I've got pride. I'm not about to apologize to him. “Yeah,” he laughs. “But he totally deserved it.” Finally his eyes drift behind me, and I look back. Bob, my 6'7, 320 pound security guard, is standing behind me. He's very intimidating. He's so bad ass that he has a tattoo of a dragon with flames coming out of its mouth on his bald head. I know he's here to protect me, but I'm kind of scared of him at the same time. Maybe it's the fact that he could snap my 5'1”, not quite 100 pound body in half with one hand. “This is Bob.”
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