The Masks We Wear: High School Bully Romance (Emerald Falls Series Book 1)

by Lee Jacquot

  She nods her graying head slowly, still perusing the file. My fists clench at my sides, and I ignore the pain of my stiletto nails piercing into my palm.

  “Can you elaborate, please, Ms. Bolwig?” The words are meant to be friendly, but coming through bared teeth, I know she hears the bite in them.

  “You have an average record, but nothing to stand out for the program you’re seeking at Kentucky.”

  My mouth pops open in protest, but she holds a hand up. “Cheer captain. Yes, I know. And winning regionals this year will do wonders, but you need to be more than a pretty face and a good tumbler.”

  She spits the last word out as if it’s a curse. A good tumbler. Anger and irritation ripple down my body, and I could swear someone turned on the heater. I wipe my brow with the back of my hand as I search for the right words.

  I’m smart, not like an Amelia Earhart, but I’m smart enough. Most notable of all, I am the best damn cheerleader and captain to come out of Emerald Falls since 1974. Which says something considering it’s a big city with twelve different high schools scrambling for that title. I’ve brought more recognition to EFH than our most prized football players. Not to mention my girls rock out every damn appearance, which takes real leadership skills. I’m not just a good tumbler.

  “I want to switch a course you’re currently in. I know it’s late in the semester, but Mr. Jones said he’d be happy to have you.”

  My eyebrows furrow. “Mr. Jones teaches AP Sciences…”

  She huffs. “To be a slightly above average student, you can be rather dense, Miss Conley.”

  I bite my tongue to keep the retort from seeping out. Whether I like her snide-ass comments or not, the woman is known for making things happen, and I need to get into Kentucky.

  “He is taking his students to a competition. I think it would be just the thing to lift your head above the sea of other cheerleaders clawing their way to that university.”

  She keeps talking about some competition, but I’m not listening. The only one I’m worried about is regionals and all the practices in between. Cheerleading didn’t come naturally to me. I had—have—to work on it every damn day. It’s a commitment that most marriages don’t have, and I bleed my soul into it each passing second. I deserve to go to Kentucky.

  Go big, or go home, and I’ll be damned if I stay here. Especially now.

  I grimace but finally nod in approval. I don’t intend to claw my way anywhere. I’ve put countless hours into paving the road myself, and I plan to walk on it in six-inch heels and a fresh manicure. Even at the expense of setting half my garden on fire to rid it of one particular weed.

  She scribbles something on a pad before tearing it from the yellow backing. “Good choice. Take this to the registrar and hurry along. His period starts in ten minutes.”

  I take the paper from her gingerly, careful not to snatch it, murmuring a quick “thanks.” My eyes drift to the pictures on the wall one last time before slipping out of her office.

  This had better be worth it.

  After leaving the registrar, I manage to slink past the cafeteria and down the AP hallway where I take a deep breath. As much as I want to focus on the shitty words of Ms. Bolwig, I can’t help but wonder why Spencer acted like he didn’t know me...

  A tingle creeps up my spine, and my ears ring with the whispers of what this could mean—the things people could find out. Image is everything here. I’ve spent a long time polishing myself to the perfect shine, careful to get inside all the nooks and crannies.

  He can expose my rusted core in seconds.

  Fear takes over, weakening my knees to the point I have to lean against the set of lockers on my right. The smooth metal cools my back as I take a few more breaths.

  I can’t let him say anything.

  My wheels begin to turn, ideas forming on how I can keep my old friend quiet. There is one thing that might—

  “Mija, how did your meeting go?”

  I freeze, and my idea on the verge of creation vanishes, replaced by my shoulders tensing back up. Whirling around, my mother stands at the edge of the hall. She smooths down her navy uniform with one hand and holds on to an oversized trash bin with the other. A misplaced, warm smile spread across her face.

  My eyes dart around, making sure no one is coming. She’s never supposed to be here before five. By then, we don’t risk the chance of running into each other. Sounds shitty, but if the Queen of Emerald High’s mom was exposed as the school’s head custodian, nothing I’ve done in this place would matter. I’d lose my spot faster than Amora’s skirt after a game.

  The curious part of me wants to ask how she knows I was meeting with Ms. Bolwig, but instead, I feign a bored expression. “Dandy.”

  Her smile fades, replaced by the snarl of her true form. “Such a stupid girl. I bet you won’t make it to that cheer school.”

  I latch a finger around my necklace, pulling it side to side. “Hmm, see ya.”

  I don’t wait for a response and turn toward Mr. Jones’ class. The last thing I want to do is invoke her wrath and chance someone seeing. Straightening my spine, I flip my golden locks over my shoulder and open the door, letting the day’s shit show stay behind me. At this point, I don’t think it could get much worse.

  Let’s do this.

  I’ve never seen a class of kids so engrossed in their work before the bell has even rung. Everyone’s head is down, shoved in the pages of their journals, their pens working furiously across the paper. None of them even glance up from their notebooks when they hear me walk in.

  A small girl with hexagon glasses and inky hair glances my way as I pass before looking back down. After a beat of silence, her head pops back up comically, and she elbows the boy next to her, motioning to me with her chin.

  It sets off a chain reaction until all eyes are glued on me, a soft whisper floating around the room.

  I’m used to the effects that come with being Queen of Emerald High, but it doesn’t make it any less cringy.

  Trying not to grimace, I stride over to Mr. Jones, who has his face glued to his computer. His eyes flash to me before returning to the screen. Like the four-eyed girl, he does a double take before standing too abruptly, knocking over what looks to be week-old coffee.

  I recoil, terrified the dark liquid will land on my white suede heels, and watch him fumble to clean his mess. “I’m so sorry, Miss Conley.”

  “Not a problem, Mr. Jones.” But even so, I take a few cautionary steps backward.

  After wiping up most of the coffee, he ambles around the desk, rising to his full height, and straightens a wrinkled candy corn tie.

  “Class, I’d like to introduce you to our newest member, Liliana Conley.”

  His confirmation that I’m joining the class sends an even louder murmur vibrating through the room, but I ignore it, holding up a hand in a light wave. “Please, just Lily is fine.”

  Mr. Jones beams at me, rubbing his stubble. “Of course. I’m going to pair you up with the lad back there.”

  He motions to the table on the far left side of the classroom, where the only student who hasn’t looked up is scribbling in his notebook. Mr. Jones leans a little closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. “He’s having a hard time adjusting to the idea of a partner, but I know you’ll be able to work it out.”

  I raise an eyebrow in question. “Partner?”

  He nods. “Didn’t Ms. Bolwig tell you?”

  Tilting my head, I wait for him to elaborate. The woman told me a lot, ninety percent of which has already been blocked out for the well-being of my mental health.

  He shifts back, swallowing hard around his evident discomfort. “You’ll be the fill-in we need for the science competition. We had a student move away.”

  My eyes widen of their own accord, and I feel my jaw tic, but I recover quickly, smiling at Mr. Jones. I knew there was a competition, but I didn’t think I had to participate.

  After granting him a curt nod, I stroll to the back and sit at th
e edge of the seat, setting my purse on the worn lab table and cross my feet at the ankle. A perfect ladies pose.

  As if he’s just realized I’ve entered the room, Spencer’s mesmerizing brown eyes collide with mine.

  THREE

  Lily’s pupils constrict under the light, letting her natural brown color peek from beneath the contacts. It’s the first I’ve seen of them since middle school—when I knew her better than I knew myself.

  There was a time when her eyes were the light leading me out of my dark ass cave. But that Liliana has come and gone, leaving nothing but a cutout of a basic bitch with a bad attitude named Lily.

  I scoff, clenching my teeth at the thought of all the lost time I spent on her during those summers. I could have been with my mom or studying more, hell, maybe even learning a fucking sport. Either way, my time is the one thing she won’t be able to waste again.

  Staring back down at my journal, I shift my shoulders away from her. Maybe if I ignore her long enough, she’ll get the hint. Might even get lucky, and she’ll go away.

  A moment of silence passes before Lily dips her head low, tilting it to read my scribbles. I move my body, so I can’t even see her in my periphery. I hope she feels the heat radiating from me and backs off, but she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

  “So, what are we working on, Spence?”

  I’m not sure which word pisses me off more. The way she holds the last syllable of my name and sounds like a fucking snake or the fact she said we, as if I would actually consider letting her help me with my project.

  Damn Maurice for moving.

  I don’t look at her, but hiss my words to match her reptilian tone. “Don’t think I’m letting you lay a finger on this project.”

  Her chair scrapes across the tile, forcing me to glance over my shoulder at her. Her small nose is scrunched as if she’s smelled something grotesque, and I have to bite back a laugh of satisfaction. I’m sure she’s not used to being talked back to by any of her minions. Or anyone in the school, for that matter. I’ve only been back for two months, but it doesn’t take long to learn what the school thinks of Lily Conley.

  Captain of an elite cheer squad, sure, but what they talk about most is how she has the aura of a fucking goddess and is every guy’s wet dream. They say she doesn’t talk too much—rather not get her hands dirty, and instead, lets her team carry out any trash she needs to dispose of. Nothing like the Liliana, I know. Knew.

  Others say she’s the female version of her best friend, Blaze. He’s the star running back of the school, and like dear Liliana here; he runs this place. I’ve only run into him once, and that was enough. He has multi-colored eyes, one a metal gray, the other a piercing dark blue. It’s unsettling when he looks at you, almost as if he can read your thoughts.

  It makes sense that they’re friends, though. Both seem void of any feelings and reek of entitlement.

  “You don’t have a choice, fuckwad.” Lily snatches my journal from under me, and when I snap my head to her, my damn glasses fall off.

  I ignore her snickers as my hands find the frame and shove them back on. My pulse becomes erratic, ticking in my veins so violently, I can feel my heartbeat in my toes. “If you think I’m going to let you have any input whatsoever, you’ve lost what little fucking brain you got up there.”

  She giggles, and it’s so full of fake sweetness and corn syrup, I wonder if I can get secondhand diabetes. “Was that meant to insult me? Come on, Spencer, you’re smarter than that. Well, used to be, at least...” She tilts her chin and looks to the ceiling as if thinking about something. “I don’t remember.”

  I grind my molars, anger flushing through my body as she stands and sashays to the front. She whispers to Mr. Jones, whose face blooms a light pink before he nods and hands her a slip.

  When she walks out, the rage doesn’t leave with her—it intensifies. I have one fear in life. One. Last I checked, we shared the same sentiments. We go about them in different ways, but the roots are the same.

  Being forgotten.

  It’s easy to lose yourself—to an addiction, an obsession, society, or illness. It’s even easier for the world to forget you.

  My mother, once a renowned photographer, made it her life’s mission to capture people in unforgettable ways. She says everyone should leave a mark, or else there’s no point in enduring all the torture this life will throw at you.

  It’s always felt like a silly fear—worrying if people would remember you, but when I told Lily, she understood. That’s when she told me about her parents. A father that was never home and a mother that never left her room. It’s something she didn’t want to experience ever again—being invisible to the people that are supposed to love you the most.

  I sit back and sigh as my phone vibrates in my pocket. Staring at my notes, I decide I’m done with school for the day and begin shoving my things in my bag.

  Fuck her and fuck me for even caring.

  “Ar-are you okay?” Remy appears at the side of my table. Huge hexagon glasses amplify the small almond shape of her natural hazel eyes.

  Remy is a classmate and my co-worker at Jenny’s Smoothies and probably the only one at Emerald High that’s smarter than me. I found myself kind of bummed when we didn’t get paired up for the fair project. It would have been epic.

  I nod, tossing a pencil behind my ear. “Yeah, I’m going to go home. My head hurts.” I rub at my temple for good measure.

  Her lips thin into a straight line, but she doesn’t push it. “See you at work?”

  “Of course.”

  Slinking past her, I slip from class. Mr. Jones doesn’t even notice. It usually wouldn’t bother me, but today… it does.

  I make it to the parking lot before I remember my phone and slide it from my pocket.

  Liliana: Come over tomorrow at ten, so we can work on OUR project.

  “So you guys used to be best friends?” Remy leans against the counter, a thin finger tracing the edge of her latest romance read.

  I filled her in on my little encounter with Lily while working the slow-ass counter at the smoothie shop. Like most weeknights, it’s been a proverbial ghost town, leaving us to our nightly vent sessions—mostly revolving around the insane workload from school. But tonight, I needed to tell someone what happened and calling my old friend William is not a good idea. Not right now, at least.

  Even though I’ve only known Remy a couple of months, it feels like much longer. She’s easy to talk to, a fantastic study partner, and it doesn’t hurt she’s nice to look at. Remy’s short, only about five-two if I had to guess, and her curves are dangerously sexy. She hides them under oversized clothes, claiming to be fat in comparison to others in her family. I try to tell her that they have genetics on their side, but she always has a retort about hard work and discipline in the Asian community. She says it extends to their body just as much as their mind.

  Disregarding the silly notion that she’s overweight, Remy’s got everything going for herself. Thinking about it now, her only downfall is the misfortune of having bad taste in men. She has a very misplaced crush on Blaze. I blame the romance novels she reads—they give her false hope and make her think she can tame the beast that lives within him.

  No matter how much I try to convince her that’s a bad idea, she blows me off. “It’s not like he’ll ever notice me anyway. It’s just a harmless crush.”

  “Yep,” I finally answer, wiping down the counter for the third time. The trickle of customers has left me too much time to think about the blonde-headed vixen, Lily.

  I didn’t want to spill my guts, so I told Remy surface details. Old friend, turned bitch partner, who’s probably going to do more harm than good on my project. Even still, Remy narrows her eyes and sighs. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve worked hard on the outline. Have you thought about whether you’re going to her house?”

  I shrug, ignoring the pounding in my chest.

  It’s all I’ve thought about. It’s frustrating that
Lily can somehow stir up dormant feelings inside of me. That my body seems to have forgotten the pain she inflicted in my heart, or that the logical side of my brain can’t remember the hours I spent in the dark searching for her light.

  I run a hand down my face, taking a deep breath. As much as I want to pretend I don’t give a fuck, I do. Even if it is minute.

  “Don’t let her know she gets to you, Spencer. People like her feed off that energy, and it will only make things worse. Focus on your part and try to give her busy work. Make her feel like she’s really doing something.”

  Remy chews absentmindedly on her bottom lip as she returns her focus to the open book.

  She has a point. I can see Lily making my life a living hell and derailing my project to spite me for the fun of it.

  Maybe I will go.

  Show Lily that I care just as little about her as she does me. Even if it is a lie.

  FOUR

  Playing with Spencer’s fear—our fear was a low blow, but I can’t find it in me to care.

  I rub at my nose, a failed attempt to rid my nostrils of his lingering smell—an alluring combination of fresh air and cedar wood. It’s a deep musk that calms me, reminding me of a time when nothing mattered but spending all night in a treehouse, surrounded by scattered popcorn and open manga. We would laugh until we fell asleep, always finding each other’s hand in the middle of our dreams.

  He never knew that part, though. I always woke up before him and would slip my hand out of his so he wouldn’t see. See how much he meant to me. See that when I looked at him, I was envisioning all the seeds I’d planted over the last seven years beginning to bloom into something magnificent.

  What I didn’t want him to see, was how terrified I was he would forget me like the people who were supposed to cherish me. Mom, Dad, and my aunt Mina, who I loved more than my parents combined. All of them disappeared without a trace, leaving me to wonder what the hell was wrong with me.