by Rachel Jonas
“What is it?”
“Semifinals,” she says flatly. “They’re coming up quickly and, in light of recent events, we have to keep to our aggressive approach, with you being as involved as possible. However, if you’re not up for it, we’ll have to think of something else for you to get involved in.”
The thought of it has my stomach twisting in knots. “How soon do you need an answer?”
Her expression is remorseful. “I’m afraid there’s no time to delay. If you’re not up to it, you’ll have to be replaced.”
So, not only do I have a tough decision to make, I have to make it right now.
Backed into a corner, I can only nod and wipe more tears when they come.
“Doesn’t sound like I have much choice, so I guess the answer is yes.”
Pryor stares and I feel her sympathy even if her expression rarely reflects it.
“Listen,” she says quietly. “This hand you’ve been dealt, it isn’t fair. But it’s yours. So, you can sit here and let this break you, or you can pick yourself up, refocus, and tackle this head-on. While I can’t promise it’ll all be okay, I can promise that I’ll stay in the fight as long as you do.”
The only response I can muster is a small nod.
“It’s not fair that this is all falling on you,” she says sympathetically. “Trust me, I’m madder than the devil and if I thought it’d make a difference to march into Headmaster Harrison’s office myself, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But we have to be smart about this, Blue. You and I are cut from the same cloth. We see their world from the outside in, see the way they advocate for one another. I’m willing to stay in the ring for you, but I can’t go to Harrison, or anyone else, without something tangible.”
Her tone is grave, making it clear how serious the situation is. Although, I never doubted as much.
“If you were set up, if this video was some sort of bullying tactic, I need to know. If West did this to hurt you, even evidence that would bring his character into question would be huge,” she adds. “So, while I’m conducting my own investigation, I need you to keep your eyes and ears open. In order to clear your name and paint you as the victim you are, we have to prove that West isn’t the boy next door, like his father has everyone thinking. Do you understand?”
She has no idea how much I understand. I know, perhaps better than anyone, that West is anything but sweet and innocent, anything but the wholesome athlete local media portrays him to be.
“I understand,” I finally answer. “If I hear anything I think you could use, I won’t hesitate.”
@QweenPandora: Well, The Pink List is out and no surprise who’s number one. But I, for one, propose that we consider foregoing this tradition moving forward. I mean, does no one else deem the idea of labeling girls in town as sluts a tad archaic?
No?
Just me?
Either way, it’s out there for now and twenty young women just had their hopes dashed of ever being seen as virginal trophy wives. Sorry, girls, but everyone knows your secret.
Whether those secrets are true or not.
C’est la vie.
Later, Peeps.
—P
Chapter 4
BLUE
Even with the stack of papers Pryor confiscated, there were still a crap-ton of copies going around. Apparently, The Pink List is a pretty big deal at Cypress Prep. Of course it is, though. These kids thrive on tearing each other down and feasting on the remains of their classmates.
But I won’t be one of them, one of the fallen left for the vultures to pick apart.
I walk into the lunchroom like I’ve walked the halls all day—with my head held high, meeting the gazes of everyone who gawks as I pass. To hell with them and their judgment. If they want to label me a slut, so be it. I’m tired of caring.
Lexi flags me down from a table against the far window. We’ve permanently moved indoors now that fall is beginning to feel more like winter. It puts us in close quarters with the devils on the opposite side of the cafeteria. The ones I spot wearing black and gold jerseys—representing their win at regionals, I guess.
I’ve successfully avoided any and all members of the football team today. Them being in uniform was a blessing in disguise, making them easier to pick out of a crowd. But not having classes with the Golden boys the first half of the day was only a tease. It’s inevitable that I’ll see them in P.E. sixth hour.
“Well, you look surprisingly stable. You know, for a girl rocking a modern-day rendition of the Scarlett Letter,” Lexi teases.
I take my seat, and as soon as I do, there’s explosive laughter from a table nearby. No need to wonder who they’re talking about. It’s me. It’s been me all day.
“Yeah, at least I came in first place at something right? Slut lists count, too.”
She laughs when I do, trying to take it all in stride.
“I waited at your locker before first hour, but had to bail so I wouldn’t be late.”
I sip from a bottle of water and nod. “Dr. Pryor wanted to see me before class. Sorry about that.”
“Uh oh. Pryor?” she says, curiously popping a brow. “That’s never a good thing.”
“It wasn’t,” I admit, “but it’s not her fault she gets stuck being the bearer of bad news. She’s pretty cool other than that.”
The image of her shutting Parker down this morning comes to mind and I’m still grateful she saved me from myself. Especially seeing as how I’m already on probation. As soon as I let myself think about that part, my lunch starts looking less and less appealing.
“Well, it’s probably best you left me hanging,” Lexi adds with a sigh. “After a while, West showed up to wait for you too.”
My stomach sinks hearing he actually had the nerve to seek me out. Now, I’m wondering if I didn’t imagine him trying to get to me before I slipped into the counseling office.
“Don’t worry, though,” Lexi continues. “I told his ass to leave you alone.”
“Think he’ll listen?” I ask, laughing a little while picking over the sandwich I packed.
“Oh, not a chance, but I had to speak up regardless. You know, girl-code and whatnot.”
I shake my head, trying to imagine what would possess him to think we’re actually on speaking terms. My best guess is he’s trying to worm his way deeper under my skin. I’m even willing to bet he knew I was put on probation before I found out.
“He’s such an asshole,” I grumble. “Should’ve known he wouldn’t let up.”
Not that I expected West to change his stripes, but damn. Hasn’t he done enough damage? Humiliating me in front of not just the school, but the entire city? Just saying, a day or two to catch my breath would’ve been nice.
That burn returns to my eyes, but I refuse to cry. Not here for everyone to see.
I swear I can feel West’s stare locked on me. More intensely than all the others currently set in my direction. I hate it. Hate that I still feel remnants of a connection to him. Even after all this. But I will never let him close enough to fool me again.
Ever.
“Shit. Heads up.”
Lexi barely gets those words out before the seat beside me fills. And in it, there’s a large, muscular body. One cloaked in that stupid black and gold jersey, wreaking of funky cologne he must’ve taken a dive in this morning.
Peering over, I lock eyes with the guy, one of the football players I don’t know by name, and he isn’t alone. Seconds after making himself comfortable, two more drop down into seats surrounding Lexi and me. One of them was bad enough, but this feels like an ambush. Mostly because of all the creepy stares and eye-bang action these three are giving me.
I glance toward the first guy’s hand when he fishes something out of his pocket. My heart doesn’t sink until he pulls out one of those stupid pink sheets of paper and starts unfolding it.
I shift my gaze toward Lexi and hers is already on me.
“Blue, just say the word and I’ll flatten these bitches or die
trying,” she states plainly. As though it’s nothing at all to take on guys this size. However, the lack of hesitation in her tone has me thinking this is no empty threat.
“Shut it, Rodriguez,” the one sitting to her left warns. “Austin just has a quick question for your friend.”
Now I know Neanderthal-Number-One’s real name—Austin.
“Well, I suppose you could say it’s less of a question and more of a proposition,” the guy clarifies.
My fist tightens at my side and I’m channeling the unshed anger from earlier. From when I ran into Parker and didn’t get to sink my fist into her face. On cue, my gaze shifts to her and, of course, bitch is already watching with her usual smirk. She loves everything about this situation—the taunting, the embarrassment—which makes me hate it even more.
“Fuck you,” I hiss, feeling unstable as I aim those words right at Austin.
I’m completely aware of being on probation, but instead of that making me walk an even straighter line, it’s left me feeling like I have less to lose.
“Fuck me?” Austin huffs a laugh with the statement. “Very interesting choice of words. Kind of in the same vein of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“That’s it.” Lexi’s on her feet, prompting the two seated beside her to stand too.
“Relax, I only came over to see if West’s leftovers are still warm,” Austin says to his teammates, before turning to face me again. “I’ve been thinking. If we win semifinals this weekend, a little reward would be nice. You know—you drop by my place and hook me up. Maybe some of my boys, too. That is, if you can still walk after I get done with you.”
The edges of my vision darken and all I see is the idiot seated beside me. Without thinking, my hands plant flat against his solid chest and I shove as hard as I can, knocking him right off his chair. I don’t flinch when his ass slams to the floor. In fact, it sends a wave of relief surging through me and I don’t even regret it when he gets to his feet quicker than expected, fury raging in his eyes.
“Psycho bitch!” he thunders. “Put your filthy fucking hands on me again and see if I don’t end you!”
I’m poised to snap right back at him, fearless because I’m pissed as hell with everything right now, but before I can come to my own defense…
“Wanna try saying that shit to me, motherfucker?”
My heart pounds inside my chest and I’m suddenly riding a wave of rage and confusion. All because of who just spewed those angry words—West, full of fury, nose-to-nose with Austin as he backs him down like a trained puppy. It’s insane how quickly the loyal subject falls into place when his king delivers a swift reminder.
Dane and Sterling are late to the party, proving just how quickly West must’ve stood and rushed over. Under different circumstances, the move might’ve been seen as valiant, but nothing concerning West Golden impresses me. Not with who and what I know him to be. Actually, I wouldn’t put it past him to have set this whole thing up—some sort of ploy to fool me into thinking he has a soul after all.
From where I stand, I see West’s jaw tick, see his nostrils flare with anger—whether real or faked.
“Look, man, I don’t want any trouble. I was just joking with her,” Austin explains, putting his hands up in surrender as he backs away. The maneuver is so hasty his thigh slams the corner of a lunch table, knocking him a little off balance.
“Let me catch you so much as breathing in her direction and I’ll mangle you. You understand me?” West seethes, so tense the veins in both arms protrude just beneath his ink.
“Yeah, I got it,” Austin concedes, volleying a look between West and his brothers, seeming to regret having ever walked his happy ass over to my table.
By now, nearly the entire lunchroom is watching and it’s just a matter of time until a staff member notices, too. And thanks to West, I can’t afford to even be associated with trouble.
Sticking around to see how it all unfolds is out of the question. So, the moment I see a lunch monitor’s brow furrowing at the situation, I hightail it down the center aisle, headed straight out of the lunchroom. Not even stopping when I hear that deep, familiar voice calling after me.
“Southside! Wait up!”
Move faster, Blue. Don’t give him a chance to speak. Don’t give him a chance to fill your head with whatever lies he’s come up with to draw you in again. Everything he’s ever said, everything he ever will say, is a lie.
The doors burst open when I push into the empty hallway, and to my horror, they burst open a second time as heavy steps come bounding through right behind me.
“Wait,” he calls out again.
I pretend not to hear him, picking up speed as I head God-knows-where. The one thing I do know is that I have to get as far away from West as possible. The urge to kill him still hasn’t dulled and if I thought I could overpower him, I just might try it.
“I just… please.”
Those words fall from his mouth, somehow conveying his need for me to stop and listen, but he doesn’t come across as desperate, needy.
He manages to get ahold of my hand, and I hate that his touch still triggers something inside me. There’s hatred and something else, but the ‘something else’ is only an illusion, a sick addiction to emotional abuse. I’ve seen it with my parents. One does some shitty thing to hurt the other. Then, somehow, they end up in the bedroom. But not me. I’m determined to break the vicious cycle.
“I just want to talk to you.” His voice echoes off the three walls surrounding me, because I’ve somehow managed to turn right into a dead end. This place is so huge, I still get turned around sometimes.
I spin, facing him because I don’t have much choice. He’s faster and stronger than I am, which means there’s no outrunning him either.
“Get the fuck away from me, West.”
There’s no missing the strain of emotion in my voice. Which is why I’m sure my eyes are red and glassy, too. I’m also sure he knows I’m about to cry again. For like, the umpteenth time since Saturday. Only, my tears aren’t a sign of weakness. They’re a sign that I’m mad as hell and fucking sick of his ass.
I swear he’s just heard my thoughts, as those damn green eyes of his search my face, reading me like he does so well. All he’ll find there is anger, pain.
He breathes deep and his jaw does that thing again, where it flexes and tenses as he comes closer.
“I just … I need you to know I’m—”
“No!” I shout. “You don’t get to say a damn thing to me. That’s not how things work in the real world. I know you’re used to stringing chicks along, having them pine over you no matter what fucked up thing you’ve done, but I’m not like them.”
I half expect an immediate rebuttal just to spite me, but he’s silent. Just goes to show how unpredictable he is, how hard his behavior is to pin down. Ugh … and here I go with the waterworks again. I hate myself for not being able to hold them in.
He’s staring while he wears this look I can’t place. His solid chest and shoulders rise slowly beneath his jersey and I focus there, where his heart should be. Only, I know there’s nothing in its place, but a cavern filled with darkness.
He opens his mouth to speak, but what comes out isn’t even a complete sentence.
“Damn, I—”
The words cut off there and he rubs a hand down his face, still keeping his gaze trained on the floor.
“Look at you,” I scoff. “The screwed up thing is, I think you know you went too far this time, but your pride won’t even let you admit it.”
Half a second later, he meets my gaze and I regret challenging him. There’s unexpected emotion swimming in his irises and I’m now more convinced than ever that he’s a great actor. Probably got a lot of practice over the years. It serves as a reminder that he can’t ever be trusted.
“You chased me down,” I snap. “Why? Didn’t get enough of humiliating me Saturday?”
“That wasn’t—”
His words trail off aga
in and I’m sick of whatever this game is he’s playing.
“This is the last time you will ever speak to me,” I assert, only managing to take a few steps away from him before he gets a firm grip on my arm. He’s not inflicting pain, but I can’t easily pull away when I try.
I don’t have it in me to face him, but standing shoulder-to-shoulder now, I catch his stare in my peripheral, filled with some feigned look of desperation.
“I know I fucked things up,” he admits with a low rasp. “But I’m trying to make it right.”
The statement rings inside my head and I can’t tell which I feel more—anger or disgust.
“Ohhh, okay. So, you want to make things right,” I say with an air of sarcasm. “Does this miraculous fix you’ve mentioned also make me being on academic probation go away?”
I glance over right as his brow tenses. “They threatened to kick you out?”
I laugh despite the tears streaming down my face.
“West, don’t you dare pretend that’s a surprise,” I scoff. “What’d you think would happen? They’ve only ever seen me as a poor kid from the south side, which means I’m expendable.”
I look him up and down and decide it’s disgust that’s ruling my feelings for him, but anger is still a close second.
“I didn’t realize they’d take things that far.”
“Hm. Well, now you know. So, congratulations. This is what you’ve wanted since I first walked through the school’s doors, right?”
His gaze lowers and he dishes out more of that false humility.
“I won’t make excuses for the shit I’ve done, but I can’t let you think what happened Saturday was intentional. I wouldn’t have done something like that.”
Another angry laugh leaves me. “Oh, yeah? So, you kicking me out wasn’t intentional?”
His jaw flexes like before and he winces hearing my question. “I wasn’t myself and—"
“Fuck you, West,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m done with you and I’m done with your bullshit.”