by Cassie James
My face burns as laughter breaks out behind me. Why does he have to do this in front of them? Why doesn’t he tell them to move along or something? Tori’s laughter, in particular, stands out. The wrong mean girl died on prom night. The vitriol of the thought shocks me, and I feel my mouth gape just a bit. I didn’t even know I was capable of such ugly thoughts.
“Miss Hawthorne, are you paying attention to me?”
“Sorry. Yes, sir,” I mumble.
“I think it would be best if we pair you with a tutor for the courses you’re struggling with. If you like, I can put together a list of qualified candidates—”
I cut him off. “Oh no, that’s not necessary.” He opens his mouth to protest, but I cut him off again. “I appreciate your concern. I’ll look into finding a tutor for myself.”
He nods, seemingly placated for the moment, at least. My face burns as I turn to find The Pricks standing behind me, all looking much more pleased with that conversation than I am. I catch Macie’s sympathetic smile and dart towards the door, desperate to get out into the corridor before this turns into a confrontation.
“Seriously, she’s got a 24/7 wifi connection and still can’t pass Humanities? What’s she gonna flunk next? Study hall?” A nasty giggle accompanies the words.
“Fuck off, Tori,” I snap as I turn, and for a flash of a second, I’m rewarded with the sight of surprise in her eyes.
She steps forward, out of the protective circle of The Thorns at her back. Macie sticks to my side, her hand ghosting over my arm, like she’s not quite sure if she wants to stop whatever’s getting ready to go down. This wasn’t a confrontation I wanted, but I’m not going to back down this time, either.
“2.0 has a spine now? Interesting.”
She doesn’t sound interested. No, she sounds disgusted, and I bite my lip as I cross my arms over my chest. If I keep them pressed tightly against my middle, I might be able to resist the urge to reach out and put this bitch in her place. The one thing stopping me is imagining the look of disappointment in Mom’s eyes if she finds out how bad things truly are with Piper’s old friends.
I just need to get through the rest of this day and then I can be free of The Pricks for four glorious days. Four days of not looking over my shoulder to ensure Tori isn’t going to dig her nails into my arm and taunt me. Four days of not avoiding Jude’s heated glances in the hallway between classes. Four days of not having to avoid the disgusted look on Tyler Hamilton’s perfect fucking face every time he accidentally makes eye contact with me.
“Is that all?” I ask, forcing disinterest in my voice to prove she’s not getting to me as much as she thinks she is.
“No,” she snaps. “Not until you explain how such a special robot could turn out to be such a fucking idiot.”
Macie’s voice is nothing short of scathing as she pushes her way in front of me. “It’s funny how you think you have the right to an opinion on the subject, Tori, since the last time I checked you weren’t exactly competing for Valedictorian yourself. In fact, isn’t Humanities the only class you’re actually passing?”
Tori splutters, and there’s a smattering of laughter from the crowd behind me. The Pricks stare at Macie with obvious surprise. I get it, she’s made a point of keeping her nose out of their business, focusing on Rosewood itself instead of worshipping the social strata. To see her making a public stand against Tori—the current, though undeserving, Queen of The Roses—is surprising, even if I know all about how they barely tolerate one another at home.
“I think maybe it’s time you think about backing off,” Macie hisses as she takes a step closer to Tori and lowers her voice. I strain to hear her next words, and I’m positive they’re for the benefit of me and The Pricks alone. “Wouldn’t it just be terrible if I got so upset I accidentally let it slip that your mom finally broke down and paid someone to take the SAT for you? I’m not so sure getting into UCLA will look so prestigious once everyone knows you couldn’t do it alone.”
Tori flushes, beet red as the guys chuckle behind her. “Move!” she shouts in Chelsey’s face as she turns and shoves past her. Chelsey nervously turns and chases after her, leaving only The Thorns.
“See you never, assholes!” she tells them as she grabs my arm to drag me away. The rest of the crowd is already dispersing, confused since they missed the last part of what just happened. Me, though? I’m sure as hell not going to forget that any time soon.
After Macie stands up for me, the rest of the day is easy sailing. It’s only when I take my seat in Psychology that the sick feeling returns to my stomach. Ms. Diaz announces that she’ll pass our midterms back at the end of class.
I spend the duration of the class twisting my hands nervously in my lap. Counting down the minutes until I’m inevitably disappointed in myself again. This is the only other class that’s subjective enough that I can’t breeze through it. I understand the human brain on a logical level, but how could I ever truly begin to understand the human experience when I can never actually have it for myself?
Ms. Diaz waits until the end of class to hand exams back as we’re leaving. I hang back, letting my classmates go ahead as I try to avoid reliving the embarrassment from earlier.
“How bad was it?” I ask with a grimace as I approach her once I’m the last one left in the room.
She tilts her head at me curiously. “Bad? Heavens no. Your exam was quite good, Piper. I was very impressed with how you offered a unique perspective from your peers.”
“What?” Ms. Diaz hands my exam to me across the desk and I stare down at the bold red mark at the top of the page. How the hell did I get an A- on this monstrosity? I glance through my essay, noting how few corrections she’s marked. It feels like someone’s filled me with a thousand swarming butterflies, the way my stomach twists and flutters. “How is this possible?”
Ms. Diaz’s eyebrows arch up as she smiles at me, showing two perfect lines of straight, white teeth. The burgundy lipstick coating her lips is flawless, and I’m struck for a second by how hot Ms. Diaz is when she smiles. There’s no way Brennan looks anything at all like his dad—every ounce of his hotness has to come from his mom.
“You did very well, Piper. I’m not sure why you’re so shocked, you’re a very good student.”
My fingers clutch the paper in a white-knuckled grip as Dr. Charles’ words echo in my mind. “Miss Hawthorne, I have no doubt that you’re capable of memorizing facts. What you seem to struggle with are emotions and behaviors. I understand, of course, considering your nature, why you might struggle with these subjects in particular.”
My face burns, and I have to force myself to look into her eyes as I struggle around my answer. “Dr. Charles is concerned...”
Her eyes flash as she shakes her head. “Of course this is about that man. I told him—” she starts, but then pauses to exhale a deep, calming breath. “I told him he was the only one with concerns. Every student has their weaknesses. You’re keeping up in your other courses, aren’t you?”
I nod, too surprised by her support to use words.
“Dr. Charles is... old school.” I can practically hear the unspoken word. Prejudiced. “He seems to think you’re struggling to understand the intricacies of the human condition. What he fails to appreciate is that you see the world in a way the rest of us cannot, and you’ve grown leaps and bounds since the year first started. I’m sorry that he’s unwilling to acknowledge it.”
“I’m failing his class,” I admit quietly, and her eyes widen. “He suggested I get a tutor, but the whole thing is embarrassing. I know everyone else thinks Humanities is supposed to be a bunny course.”
Ms. Diaz considers me with a sympathetic smile. Aside from Macie, I think she’s the first person here who’s actually been open towards me. Her support and encouragement comes as a complete surprise.
She opens her mouth to say something, but stops when her classroom door squeaks open. Our heads both turn in that direction, just as Brennan backs into the room, s
till laughing at something from the hallway. I cross my arms reflexively over my chest when he turns and sees us standing at the front of the room.
“Didn’t realize you weren’t done. I’ll come back,” he says, already shuffling back through the door. He didn’t even bother to make eye contact with me, his eyes just passing right over me.
“Actually,” Ms. Diaz stops him. Her hand curls into a fist and she rests it under her chin as she studies me. “Brennan, come back here for a minute.”
“What’s up, Mom?” he asks warily. I keep my eyes trained on Ms. Diaz even as I feel him glance over at me. I won’t give Brennan the satisfaction of hurting me with that same disgusted look he always sends my way.
“Piper needs a Humanities tutor.”
“What!” I squeak at the exact same time Brennan shouts, “No!”
I try to not let the sting of the rejection reflect on my face as Ms. Diaz’s eyebrows shoot toward her hairline. “Brennan,” she warns, but from the corner of my eye I can see him shaking his head from side to side frantically. Her tone is much darker the next time she says his name. “Brennan Matías Diaz-Baker.”
I flinch and take a half-step back. Damn. She just full named him. In front of me. I chew my lip as his face darkens in response to his mother’s warning tone. The amount of second hand embarrassment coursing through my veins is damn near overwhelming.
“I don’t have time to tutor 2.0—”
Her tone drops to a dangerous sizzle in the blink of an eye as she cuts her son off. “What did you just call her?”
“Piper,” he corrects himself hastily, and my stomach twists as I take another half-step back. Holy shit, this is so uncomfortable. “Sorry,” he mumbles halfway in my direction. “Mom, I really don’t have the time. I’ve got applications and essays to work on. Not to mention I need to be starting my Advanced Coding final—”
“Piper, are you free this weekend?” she cuts her son off breezily.
“Uh…” I half-shrug my shoulders helplessly as I try to think up some excuse. I should tell her I’m busy with all the amazing plans I have with all my friends, but there’s such a sweet look in her eyes that I can’t bear to lie, even at the risk of her forcing me to spend time with Brennan, of all people.
“Great! You can come over Saturday to study.” I open my mouth, but she doesn’t let me get a word in edge-wise. She nods like I’ve already agreed and turns a wicked smile on her wide-eyed son. “Fantastic! Brennan text her the address.” He stands there staring blankly back at her until she more firmly tells him, “Now.”
I feel dazed as I stand there, the three of us silent as Brennan reluctantly pulls his phone out and pecks out a slow message. My phone buzzes in my pocket.
“Thank you?” I offer uncomfortably, trying to break the tension as Brennan and his mom seem to fall into some kind of stare-off. Brennan’s relationship with his mom is a weakness of his. He won’t dare tell her flat out no, even though I’m sure he’s desperately wishing there was a way out of this new arrangement.
“Brennan will see you at five,” Ms. Diaz announces, continuing to stare him down as if she’s daring him to try to protest again.
He nods, his jaw clenched as he echoes, “I’ll see you at five.”
His eyes don’t meet mine as I nod my own confirmation, more for his mother’s sake than his anyway. I give her one last quick smile before fleeing the room, my heart pounding. I really wish I had managed to talk my way out of agreeing, but holy shit. Ms. Diaz is hot and scary.
15
Brennan
My fingers tap over the keyboard on my laptop, and I glare toward the front door for what feels like the thousandth time in the past twenty minutes. I glance down at my watch. It’s almost five, so 2.0 should be here any minute for our mother-mandated study session.
I glower in the direction of the kitchen where Mom’s making a hell of a racket while she works on dinner. She’s been goddamn unbearable ever since she had the bright idea to volunteer me to tutor 2.0 in Humanities. God forbid I have any choice in the matter, either. I clench my jaw at the thought of Mom’s apparent newfound sentimental side for her apparent favorite student of all time. I haven’t heard the end of my initial refusal to tutoring 2.0 since dinner on Thursday.
“Brennan, how dare you call that poor girl anything other than her name?”
I sure as hell don’t want to call her my friend’s name. She’s a machine, not a human being.
“I would hate to find out you’d be involved in any of that rumored bullying that’s been going on.”
I haven’t accepted her with open arms, but I haven’t really done anything like Tori or Jude.
“Brennan Matías Diaz-Baker, if I catch wind of you doing anything untoward to Piper Hawthorne, I swear on your abuela’s grave...”
Use my full name one more goddamn time...
“Can you imagine how hard of a time she’s having with trying to fit in? You will tutor her, and you will do it with a smile on your face the entire damn time!”
Couldn’t care any fucking less about how that thing’s fitting in, Ma. I’ll tutor her with a damn scowl, that’s for fucking sure.
“Brennan!” Mom calls for me, and I clench my jaw as my fingers pause over my keyboard. I swear to god, if she says one more damn thing about Piper Fucking Hawthorne...
“What?” I yell back, and I don’t miss the gleeful way Izzy glances between where I’m sitting on the couch and where Mom’s standing in the kitchen. For fuck’s sake, that girl’s gonna end up getting me in real shit with Mom. My shoulders hunch as she appears in the door to the kitchen, a towel hanging from her hand and a scowl pinching over her face.
Here we go.
“Mijo,” she begins, and the warning is explicit in her tone. Get your shit together before I get it together for you. “Get the door, will you? I’m a little tied up at the moment.”
I nod, waiting to roll my eyes until her back is turned. Izzy giggles from where’s she’s sprawled over the armchair, legs dangling off the side as she reads some ridiculous romance book she snatched from her abuela’s house. I glare at the pain in the ass twelve-year-old, and she sticks her tongue out at me in turn. I pull the book from her hands and toss it across the room as I pass, and I chuckle at the indignant shout that raises through the room behind me. Serves the little jerk right.
When I open the door, the sight of Jackie Hawthorne standing with her arm around 2.0’s shoulders surprises me. I quirk an eyebrow, and I almost laugh when 2.0 rolls her eyes at the unanswered question hanging in the air between us. What the fuck is your mom doing here?
“Hi, Mrs. Hawthorne.” We stare at each other. This is so fucking weird. Piper never would have been caught dead with her mom dropping her off somewhere. At the very least she would have called for a car if she didn’t feel like driving somewhere herself. “Did you need to talk to Mom, or…?”
I can hear Mom moving around in the kitchen again, humming away as she bangs pots and pans around on the counters. I typically don’t question her methods, but goddamn, she’s making a lot of noise today. I glance over my shoulder, but a slight huff pulls my attention back toward the Hawthornes standing on our porch.
“No,” Jackie finally says, and I share a perplexed look with 2.0. “I just wanted to see if I needed to arrange for a ride home for Piper.”
“Oh...” I trail off, and I catch the start of a blush on 2.0’s face. My mouth runs a little dry as I stare at the way her cheeks are coloring for far longer than necessary.
“Because her father and I have a prior engagement this evening,” Jackie continues, and 2.0 hides her face in her hand as her mother continues to rant. “And if we’re going to need to pick her up, I’d just like to know a time.”
“No, I can bring her home,” I offer before I think better of it. I could kick my own ass when 2.0 looks up at me with surprise shining in her gray-blue eyes. Jackie nods in approval, but she doesn’t move from her spot next to her daughter. It takes a minute before s
he starts talking again, her voice pure agitation. “You’re not going to pull the same shenanigans Jude Alton did, are you?”
Suddenly I’m sweating. If I thought my mouth was dry before, it’s nothing compared to the Death Valley dryness that creeps in now. My eyes shoot toward Piper, and the flush that sat so prettily on her cheeks a minute ago has turned beet red and spread all the way down her neck, disappearing down the collar of her shirt.
What the fuck kind of conversations did 2.0 have with Jackie? I, for sure, would never talk to my mom about having sex with someone, especially if said person turned around and kicked me out of their house and then snubbed me at school. I rub my hand over my neck, realizing with horror that my own skin is getting flushed, too.
“Uhm...”
“Because he assured me he would bring her home,” Jackie keeps talking as if my participation in the conversation isn’t even really necessary. I hear rustling from behind me, and I know that Izzy is moving closer to watch whatever the hell it is that’s happening in our doorway right now. “And then he called a car and had some driver bring her home. I’m sure you understand how uncomfortable that makes us.”
She pulls Piper against her tightly as she says the word “us,” and I can see the way 2.0’s shoulders stiffen at the touch. I have a pretty good idea that she actually didn’t mind at all that Jude wasn’t the one to drive her home after they fucked, but I’m not cruel enough to say that to her mother. I nod along numbly, and that must be good enough, but Jackie still leans down to whisper something quietly to her before turning and marching toward the Escalade parked in our drive.
My eyes are wide, staring after the unexpected hurricane that is Jackie Hawthorne. Piper clears her throat, and when I glance down at her, I note that her blush has faded to a light pink again on her cheeks, and she’s sinking her teeth into her full, pink bottom lip. I catch myself staring for a second too long and force my eyes to focus on something over her head as I stand back to let her pass.