That punch—it felt like he put his entire life's strength into it.
A sharp burst of pain shot through my nose.
Warm blood poured down instantly, coating my eyes, nose, and mouth in a sticky mess.
My father saw me fall and rushed toward me, nearly crazed. But the moment he reached me, Mr. Jordan kicked him aside as well.
Years of hard labor had given Mr. Jordan a terrifying strength.
"A pair of filthy father–daughter trash! You ruined Blake's future—don't you dare think you'll live comfortably after this!"
More and more parents gathered around.
Many of them knew about Blake's academic performance.
Hearing that he missed the exam because of my supposed "revenge," their anger exploded.
They surged forward all at once.
Fists and kicks rained down on my father and me.
"When a child does wrong, the father is to blame! Let's teach you two a lesson!"
"So young and already causing trouble! You'll be a menace to society when you grow up!"
"Mr. Jordan, hit them! If anything happens, we'll testify for you!"
Through the haze of pain, I forced my eyes open, searching the crowd.
There, behind everyone was Blake.
His face, moments ago twisted in false misery, now carried a faint, triumphant smile.