Westcott High
Page 24
“Anymore?” I mumbled under my breath.
Cliff clenched his jaw, his crown clearly in question.
“What about me?” JC stepped forward. “You’ve already ruined me. I have nothing left to lose.”
Principal Winchester stepped toward him. “I haven’t ruined you, Mr. Coleman. Not yet. If you ever want to see a wrestling mat at Westcott again, you’ll take back your suggestive tones and pathetic attempt at a threat.”
We all stared at one another, accepting defeat.
“I don’t want to hear about any of this again, understood?” Principal Winchester cocked a crooked smile. “Get to class,” he said, giving his keys a shake in his pocket before walking back toward the double doors of the school.
We all stared after him in silence.
“This is all your fault!” Red-faced, JC lurched toward Piper.
Kyle grabbed him by the arm, but JC broke through.
“Why did you do this?” he yelled. “Why?”
I placed my envelope into Casey’s hands as I shifted toward him. “Calm down, JC. People are staring.”
“I made a mistake,” Piper said, her chin trembling. “I’m sorry.”
JC lifted his arms above his head, locking them with each hand. “A mistake? You screwed me over, Piper! You got me kicked off the team and suspended from school—and you watched as everyone turned on me. Why would you do that?! For Princeton?! Are you really that desperate for success?!”
Tears filled her eyes. “What could I have done? Imagine what he would have done to me if I’d refused!”
“Piper!” he yelled. “You could have come to me! You could have turned him into the police before you agreed to set me up, not after.”
“Look, I came clean to everyone. I could have said nothing!”
“Well, maybe you should have,” he said, reaching into his back pocket. He threw the envelope marked Jeremy Coleman at her feet. “Instead of doing all of this.”
“I said I was sorry, JC.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “You really are.”
“Calm down, Coleman,” Norah told him. “Your veins are bulging.”
“Guys . . .” Casey looked down at the contents from my red envelope, then stared at me with a mix of confusion and terror.
I swiftly walked toward her, pulling the sheet of paper close to my face; the words sent a chill through my bones:
Kyle Winchester
Norah Soros
Piper Clemmons
Sonny Carter
London Vanderbilt
Stella King
Alice Kennedy
Sawyer Ellington
Quinn Myers
Max Crimson
“What is this?” Buckets asked, staring over my shoulder at the paper.
“It appears to be the missing names from the Chosen Ten list,” Winston said, hovering over my other shoulder.
“Who’s Stella? And Quinn? Who are all of these other names?” Ari questioned.
Kyle quickly tore into his letter, cutting his eyes toward his fellow Westcott Awards competitors. There was an undeniable shift in the air—one that brought a gust of dread with it. Our linked gaze now took on a whole new level of tension as we all recognized the names on the list.
“Shit,” Norah said as she stared down at her paper, her voice barely audible over the parking lot full of students. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Cliff snatched the paper from Norah’s hands. He smirked and tossed the letter onto the ground like a frisbee. “I knew it.” He crouched down, his elbows digging into his knees. “I knew it was just a matter of time.” He buried his face into his cupped hands. “They finally got through.”
“Just in time for us to make it on Principal Winchester’s shit list,” Norah added.
Kyle wiped the sweat from his brows with trembling fingers. He paced back and forth and rolled his neck from side to side.
“What’s going on?” Casey asked, reading our expressions.
For one brief moment, the members of our circle were no longer Cobalts and Violets. Or jocks and nerds. Or the Chosen Ten and the unchosen.
We were the same, crammed together in the exact same sinking boat, with ominous black clouds gathering overhead.
Cliff was the first one to jump ship.
He popped up, clasping his hands behind his head so quickly I thought his arms would fly off. “You know what, Sonny?” Cliff gave me a devilish glare. “I told you to drop it,” he said, traveling toward me. “This was JC’s problem—not yours—and you just couldn’t stay the hell out of it.”
Dean blocked Cliff from coming any closer. “Watch how you speak to her.”
“Coming from you?” Cliff pushed Dean out of his face.
Dean caught his balance with the help of Kyle.
“Don’t even think about blaming Sonny for this,” Kyle said.
“Don’t pick and choose when you want to talk to me,” Cliff retorted, glaring at him.
“You were on camera just like Sonny was,” Kyle said.
“And you conveniently weren’t,” Cliff replied, towering over his former friend.
Kyle smirked. “Nobody called me to your little meeting.”
“We called,” Cliff replied. “You were too busy pouting over a girl who doesn’t want you.”
“Shut the hell up, Cliff!” Ari lunged toward him, shoving him in the chest with flat hands. “Just shut the hell up!”
“Oh, it’s you two against me now?” Cliff asked.
“You barbarians!” Winston chucked his red ink pen toward the crowd. “Knock it off and tell us what’s going on!” He walked toward the circle and bent down to retrieve his pen. “I’m going to need this back.”
“They’re coming.” Kyle nodded.
Buckets rolled up his sleeves. “Who?”
The silence that followed was fraught with unanswered questions; nobody wanted it to be true.
“They’re coming for their spots,” JC said with a noticeable shift in his tone of voice. “The ones that were taken from them.”
“And this is a message,” I said, hovering over my list. “That our spots aren’t safe anymore.”
“None of us are safe anymore,” Cliff added. “Just like the riddle said.”
I slowly nodded, my eyes making their rounds across the parking lot. I was coming to the realization that the school I once believed could give me the world now had the potential to hinder me from getting it. “What do we do now?”
Norah broke through the crowd, beelining toward the left wing in her stilettos. Then she stopped, pivoted, and turned to look at us. “I suggest you pull yourselves together and get ready,” she said. “Here come the Royal Blues from Bella View.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Westcott High is Sarah Mello's first self-published YA book. After high school, Sarah pursued her creative nature, which led her into the event industry. She opened a North Carolina wedding venue that she still manages today. However, she never forgot the words of her twelfth-grade English teacher: "You're a writer."
Sarah was born in New York and spent her first seven years on Long Island. When she was seven, her family moved to Charlotte, NC, where she calls home. If she isn't writing, you'll find Sarah helping people plan their special day at her wedding venue.
“After writing Chapter Three of Westcott High, I remember thinking how real it felt—as if I were watching my favorite TV show.” Sarah goes on to explain the project behind the book. “Bringing my book to life in the way that I did felt like a new concept. I had never seen another author do anything like this, and it was scary at times. But I think there’s something to be said about pushing yourself to try new things.” Sarah even tackled her own book marketing. "I hope I've shown that you don't necessarily need an abundance of resources to pursue a dream. Just imagine your characters, grab some models and a guy with a camera, and establish a presence on social media. I've been so excited to get such positive reactions from YA readers."
acknowledg
ements
To my family: Thank you for your continued support, encouragement, and love. It'd be hard to do life without you guys—you sure do make it fun!
To my cast: Alec, Bryson, Catherine, Chris, John, Katalina, Lauren, Lucas, Mandi, Payton, Rebecca, and Tyler. Thank you for being a part of this ride and for bringing my book to life. You’re all going to do great things in this world. I’m happy to know you!
To my editor, Andrea: Words fall short. Thank you for pushing me to push myself, for going above and beyond, and for believing in this story. You’re a saint!