by Cole Gibsen
I winced inwardly. The truth was, Payton and I talked about Amber all the time. I mean, yes, Amber was our friend, but she had the personality of a charging rhinoceros. One wrong move and she’d pulverize you. If Payton and I couldn’t vent to each other about her, we’d probably go crazy—or in my case, crazier. The three of us had been friends since freshman year when Amber spread a rumor that Macy Simmons’s mono was really gonorrhea in order to steal her boyfriend.
That was when I’d realized Amber was dangerous.
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, Mom always said. Being Amber’s friend enabled me to keep an eye on her and make sure she didn’t stab me in the back. I suspected she was my friend for the same reason. Either way, over the years an unspoken agreement had passed between us. I kept her secrets and she kept mine.
“Where’s Jeremy?” I asked in a pathetic attempt to change the subject. As the current fly ensnared in the black widow’s web, he was never more than arm’s length away from her—probably because he was always using those arms to slide his hands up the hem of her skirt. Seriously disgusting.
“The showers.” Amber wrinkled her nose. “The entire wrestling team had weight training this morning. He was so sweaty; it was gross.”
Yeah, it wasn’t the sweat that made him gross, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. As discreetly as possibly, I jabbed my elbow into Payton’s side to get her to stop giggling like an idiot.
“Forget Jeremy.” Amber placed a hand on her hip. “So, were you bitches talking about me or what?”
I remembered watching a therapist on Dr. Phil say how cheaters were the first to accuse others of cheating. I guessed the same held true for throwing shade. “No one’s talking about you, Amber,” I said. “My mom gave me another one of her motivational speeches this morning, and I was just telling Pay about it.”
“Uh-huh.” Her lips curved into a wicked grin. “I can’t imagine how you’d have time to tell anyone anything with all the texting you’ve been doing.” She held up her hand and counted down with her fingers. “First the kiss-ass text to Christy, then the generic text to half the squad. Nice touch saying the rest of us looked like shit, by the way.”
I choked out a laugh to cover my gasp. “You’re making it sound worse than it is.”
Amber snorted. “Please. That Little Miss Innocent bullshit might work with everyone else in the school, but it sure as hell doesn’t work with me. I know exactly what you said in those texts.”
It took all of my strength to lock my knees and keep my legs from shaking. “How?”
Amber shrugged. “Because I’m co-captain of the squad, beyotch, and people tell me everything. I don’t know whether to be really impressed or hurt that I didn’t get my own conniving, kiss-ass text.” She stuck out her bottom lip. “I’m the fucking co-captain. Do I not rate at all on the Regan give-a-fuck meter?”
“What?” I took a step back. “No. I mean, yes. I mean—” Honestly, I hadn’t a freaking clue, because I didn’t quite understand what was happening. My heart pounded like a fist against my sternum, and all of my fingers were tingly and numb.
“Oh my God.” Her eyes widened, and she barked out a laugh. “You should totally see your face right now. You’re totally freaking out, aren’t you?”
I wanted to argue, but my throat was so tight that I couldn’t squeeze out the words.
“Look at her, Pay.” Amber spun me around so I faced Payton. “She’s totally freaking out, isn’t she?”
I wrenched my arm free from her grip. “Stop it. I’m not freaking out.”
Amber folded her arms across her chest and smirked. “Obviously.”
I clutched the straps of my backpack so she couldn’t tell how badly my hands shook. “Look, I don’t know who lit the fuse on your tampon this morning, but you need to back off.”
The smile slid off her face, and her glare turned icy. “Or you’ll what? Send nasty texts about me?”
“I would never do that. We’re friends.”
“Of course we are, which is why I’m totally fucking with you.” Amber’s icy expression melted into a grin.
I wanted to believe her, but there was a tension I couldn’t explain hanging in the air between us.
Maybe I was imagining it. Maybe I was reading too much into a look that didn’t exist in the first place. Anxiety had a tendency to do that—to warp the way I thought people perceived me, painting everything in a negative light. At least that was what my doctor was always telling me.
Amber grabbed my arm and pulled me toward our classroom door. Payton followed us while chewing on the bottom of her lip. She looked every bit as nervous as I felt.
“Don’t worry,” Amber whispered in my ear. “I’m not going to tell anyone about your texts. I only brought it up because I think you should be careful. I’m your friend, so I have to look out for you.”
She paused outside the door, and I turned to face her. “Why do I have to be careful?”
“Aw, sweetie.” She patted my arm. “We can’t have people finding out that Little Miss Perfect is really a huge-ass bitch. What would happen to your pristine reputation then?”
Before I could respond, she snatched Payton’s wrist and dragged her inside the classroom, leaving me alone in the hall.
What would happen then?
Chapter Three
The next morning, I sat in my car for several minutes, clutching my steaming caramel macchiato. Mom might have thrown out all the caffeine in the house, but she couldn’t stop me from making a pre-school Starbucks run. Sure, the caffeine didn’t help as far as panic attacks were concerned, but it wasn’t like I could function without it—especially after a night plagued by nightmares.
Sometime around three in the morning, I’d decided not to go after Christy. All I could think about was how I’d feel if everyone knew about my “stress problems,” as my mom would say. Even if all I managed to do was make half the school feel sorry for her, they’d still know. When I thought about it that way, I decided I would have to make the squad some other way.
All around me, students exited their cars and filed inside the brick building. Some hurried toward the entrance with smiles on their faces, while others staggered forward looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. It didn’t matter if we wanted to be here or not; we were all compelled inside, like insects drawn to the blue glow of a bug zapper.
“Today is going to be better,” I said, as if by speaking the words out loud, I could make them so. “Today is going to be a good day.”
I performed a quick makeup check in the vanity mirror. I’d slept a total of four hours last night, despite the fact that I went to bed around eleven. It never mattered how exhausted I was. Sleep was no match for the anxiety that wove through my body long after my head hit the pillow.
After rubbing away a smudge of mascara, my gaze settled on the eyes in my reflection. My lake-blue irises were a carbon copy of my mother’s, and with the vanity mirror too small to show my face, it was almost like my mother was in the car with me, staring at me with an accusatory expression.
My throat tightened. I quickly flipped the visor back into place before slipping on my sunglasses. I so did not need my mother inside my head right now.
With coffee in hand, I exited my car and plastered on another fake smile. Just the sight of the school’s double glass doors raised my blood pressure every day without fail. The second I passed through them, I flipped the switch and became a version of myself that didn’t really exist.
I had this fantasy where, on the last day of my senior year, I skipped through the halls with my middle fingers held high while I screamed, “Fuck you, I’m Regan Flay.”
Okay, so I’d never do it—that was why it was called a fantasy—but the thought still brought a smile to my lips.
I climbed the concrete steps. As usual, the eyes of every student lingering outside the doors turned in my direction. Showtime, Regan. After double-checking my smile to make sure it hadn’t slipped, I proceed
ed. I waited for the waves of greetings, but unlike every morning since the beginning of my freshman year, they didn’t come.
Weird.
I paused at the top of the stairs and glanced around. A sophomore girl pointed in my direction before she and the girl beside her laughed. A senior guy sitting on the base of the flagpole behind me smirked, the gesture anything but friendly.
Unease trickled down my spine, and the smile slid from my face. Something was definitely up. I was used to people watching me as I walked through the halls, but this was different. It was like I was the punch line of a joke no one bothered to share.
I just stood there, clutching my coffee to my chest as if its meager heat would be enough to warm the chills coursing through my body.
What the hell is going on?
I pushed through the double doors, and every head in the hallway turned in my direction. Fingers pointed and mouths curled in wicked grins. A group of girls whispered behind cupped hands, like they were trying to be discreet, but come on. Whispering behind their hands only drew attention to the fact they were whispering. So in reality, they were fully aware I knew they were talking about me, and they just didn’t give a shit. I understood this because I’d shared whispers that way myself.
My lungs seized. I would have run back to my car, but my legs refused to budge. Whatever the hell was going on, I couldn’t deal with it alone. I scanned the hallway for Payton, but she was nowhere to be found.
While most students continued to stream around me, oblivious to whatever shift had occurred, another small group gathered nearby. The sounds of their hushed whispers twisted together into a loud hiss. What little latte I’d drank on the drive to school churned dangerously in my stomach. I had to move. It wasn’t like I could stand in the entryway all day. And if I did get sick, I couldn’t throw up in the hallway, not in front of everyone with their cell phones and Web access.
I took a step forward. Then another. And another. I continued this process until, miraculously, I was walking like each step wasn’t a conscious effort. The halls were thick with students, their gazes following me as I passed. I started to wonder if there was some news announcement about my mother. Yes. That had to be it. My perfect mother had gotten herself wrapped up in something unsavory.
The gathering at the entrance pressed forward as I moved, following me, closing the distance faster than I could walk, until I was sure their bodies would lurch and collapse on top of mine, burying me alive.
Stop being so dramatic, Regan. I took a deep breath. Whatever political scandal was unfolding with my mom, it would pass soon enough.
Ahead of me, visible above the crowd due to his height, was Nolan. He was the closest thing to Payton I saw, and I felt myself drifting toward him, even though he was the last person at this school I should be going to for comfort. But then I spotted the damned cell phone in his hand, raised so he could film me walking down the hall.
Oh, hell no. I might not have had a clue what was going on, but I sure as hell didn’t need someone recording my every move for replay on the five o’clock news. The anger flushed away some of the panic. I marched toward him until I reached two girls standing in the middle of the hall with their backs to me, blocking my path. I huffed in annoyance and twisted sideways to pass between them.
I slipped by and was nearly to Nolan when one of them called out behind me. “There’s the bitch now.”
Her words struck me like a fist to the gut, and I jerked to a halt. Surely I’d heard wrong. Nobody had ever called me a bitch before. I mean, nobody besides Amber, and definitely never in such a you-suck-please-die tone. I’d spent my life befriending everyone I could. Everyone loved me or wanted to be me.
Slowly, I turned on the heel of my ballet flat. Christy and her best friend, Sarah, stood in the hall, glaring at me like I’d cheated with their boyfriends or something. Even with the anxiety coursing through my blood, I managed to keep my hands from shaking. I placed one on my hip while balancing my coffee with the other and met Christy’s cool stare head-on. I had been nothing but nice to her yesterday. “Excuse me?”
She raised her chin so her hair swung away from her eyes. “You heard me, bitch.”
Several onlookers gasped. The crowd surrounding us shifted as more people pushed through for a better view. The electricity from their excitement prickled along my skin. They wanted a show, and I’d be damned if I gave them one. Regan Flay was not some show poodle to be paraded around a ring.
Still, I wasn’t about to let the girl off the hook. I’d put her in her place verbally for now, but later I’d really make her pay. Fuck being nice and my decision to keep her secret. I’d destroy her with whispered rumors about her eating disorder. About how she nearly ruined her parents by insisting on a ritzy clinic in Malibu. Another lesson from my mother: gossip was practically untraceable. And when you couldn’t be blamed, the dirt on your hands came clean easily enough. It made it that much easier to exaggerate the truth.
When I spoke, I concentrated on my voice to keep it calm and my words even. “I really don’t think you want to do this.”
“Sure do.” She took a step closer and, even though I tried not to show it, my heart leaped into my throat. From this close, she could touch me, hit me if she wanted. The thought made my mouth go dry, and I glanced over my shoulder, searching for Payton or Amber. Where the hell were they? I scanned the crowd, but both my friends remained absent. Nolan, however, and his damned phone were still happily recording away. At least I’d have recorded evidence if I filed a lawsuit.
“Everyone deserves to hear what you really are, Regan Flay,” Christy continued. “You’re so phony I can’t believe I never saw through your act. At least now the entire school does.”
I racked my brain for anything I’d said to Christy that was fake. Maybe she wasn’t the best captain the squad had ever had, but since when was sucking up a crime? “What are you talking about?”
She leaned in, and it took every fiber of strength I possessed not to back away. “You had the entire school tricked into thinking you were perfect. But in reality, you’re the worst kind of bitch—the two-faced kind.”
Amber. I needed Amber. She’d know exactly what to say. Again, I scanned the crowd, but the moment I took my eyes off Christy, she slapped the coffee cup from my hand. It hit the ground and the lid shot off. I gasped and scrambled backward as hot caramel macchiato splattered my shoes and tights.
The crowd responded with a mixture of gasps and oohs. As much as I wanted to lash back with an attack of my own, shock kept me rooted firmly in place. I was vaguely aware of my mouth hanging open and how stupid that made me look, but no matter how many electrical impulses my brain fired, I couldn’t seem to make my lips work.
“I take that back,” she said. “There’s one bitch worse than you, and I think you just met her.” When I didn’t respond, she smiled. “Karma.”
Christy smirked and stalked away, Sarah right on her heels. Several girls who usually said hi to me turned up their noses and followed behind them. The rest of the students gathered around us backed away and cleared a path for her to walk. Several guys high-fived her as she passed. The second she disappeared, the buzz of whispers exploded around me, filling my head like a hive of bees.
This couldn’t be happening. Was it possible I was stuck in the middle of another anxiety-induced nightmare? I clenched my fists and dug my nails into my palms until the pain was enough to make tears well in my eyes. No. Not a dream. I relaxed my hands, and while the pain slowly drained from my palms, it didn’t ease the quickening of my heart or the tightness inside my chest.
I searched for a gap in the crowd or some sort of distraction I could use to escape. There was nothing. I was surrounded. Trapped. I raked my fingers through my hair. What would Mom do? I’d watched her opponents back her into corners during debates, and she never once lost her cool. So, deep breaths, Regan. I pushed my shoulders back and inhaled deeply. After a few seconds, I felt…no different.
If Mom wer
e here, she’d probably smile to throw everyone off. She’d make them think she knew something they didn’t—that they were making idiots of themselves. But I was a far cry from the confident, unmovable force that was my mother. The only thing I felt like doing was fleeing the school, driving home, and burying myself under the covers until I turned eighteen and could leave this hellish place once and for all.
But first, I needed to figure out what the hell was going on.
My throat tightened, and I heard my breathing go ragged. I realized I couldn’t stand here much longer, or the entire school would watch as my throat closed and I dropped dead in a pool of caramel macchiato. And while the words “breathe, Regan, breathe” played on a loop inside my head, they meant nothing.
I couldn’t fucking breathe, and the cool I tried so desperately to hold on to slipped from my grasp.
I whirled around and glared at the first girl I made eye contact with. “Fucking move,” I shouted. I half expected her to come forward and challenge me like the previous girl had, but I no longer cared. Right now, I’d risk a fistfight for a chance to get some air.
To my surprise, she backed away, along with several others beside her. A little path opened up in the crowd, and I took it. The words “fucking bitch,” “evil bitch,” and worse jabbed me as I passed. I had no idea who said these things as my vision swam with colors from my inability to draw breath, but I’d be damned if I let them know how terrified I was. So I retreated behind a look of indifference as I worked my way through the crowd. Every step I took, however, put another crack in the mask.
The whispers dogged me, even when I finally broke through the ring of people. They followed me down the hall, around every corner, and through the quad. Everywhere I went, students watched me, smiling knowingly at each other and laughing after I passed.
The coffee spots on my tights had grown sticky and pulled at my legs. I knew better than to pause and clean them off. I was an injured diver in a sea of sharks. If I stopped moving, I’d only give them a chance to attack again. I wasn’t going to rest until I found Payton and Amber. They had to know what was going on and what to do about it. But where the hell were they?