“Are you asking me for help in your revenge plot?” He pauses for a second and shakes his head. “Not that you’ve needed much help thus far. Sinking the cars, that was brilliant. And Becky is still crying over her hair.”
“Get me on the team,” I tell him, staying firm. When he reaches out to touch a stray strand of rose gold hair, that’s when I call it quits, ducking underneath his arm and putting my back to the room. Zack watches me and sighs, dropping his hand to his side.
“Done.” The smirk disappears from his mouth and he frowns at me again. My mind conjures up an image of him dumping a garbage can full of used feminine products on my desk, and I almost throw up. I started my period earlier than most of the other girls, and I was mercilessly destroyed for it. Just one of the many, many things he did to me. I’ll never forget that. “That is, I can fix my vote, and I can probably convince Amy to give you some good marks.” The way he smiles when he says that tells me he thinks very highly of himself with the ladies. But then the frown’s back as quick as the smile came. “Other than that, you’re on your own. Do you know anything at all about cheerleading?”
My turn to vaguely shrug my shoulders.
“I was busy this summer,” I tell him cryptically, turning and heading into the center of the gym. I push right through the crowd of girls, ignoring the whispered insults, and then lean down to sign the form on the table. The coach blinks at me in surprise and raises her eyebrows, but she doesn’t say anything, just hands me a number, and tells me to get in line.
Zack takes his place behind the table as Coach Hannah explains how tryouts are going to work. The only girls who are here are the ones who were on the team before, plus a few first years like Ileana. That’s it.
I’m the only outlier.
The only hated one.
“You’re going to wish you’d never trashed my brother or my pool,” Ileana whispers as she takes up my right side, and Kiara stands on my left.
“Did you really think Tristan was into you?” Kiara asks, scowling in my direction. Her dark hair is slicked back into a tight bun, making her face seem even more severe. It takes every ounce of effort I have not to imagine her bent over that counter in the bathroom. “He never liked you. He’s on his way to being one of the most powerful men in the world. Did you really think some commoner trash like you would satisfy him?”
I ignore her as the coach speaks quietly with her assistant for a moment. My eyes meet Zack’s from across the room. His gaze is so dark, so unreadable. It makes me want to pry it open and see what’s going on inside. My original plan had been to destroy his football career. But I’m still not sure how to go about doing that without injuring him, and I refuse to hurt anyone physically. I nibble on my bottom lip as Kiara leans in close to me, frustrated with my lack of response to her taunts.
Once upon a time, the Marnye Reed I used to be would’ve felt those barbs deep down in her soul. She would’ve bled on the inside, cried on the out, and gone home to curl into a ball on her bed. Not anymore. Not ever again.
“How many times did you spread your whore legs for him before he dumped you like the useless slut you are?” Anger flares sharp and hot inside of me, but I ignore it. Kiara elbows me as hard as she can in the side, and I grunt, but before I can retaliate, Coach is turning back to face us.
Damn it!
Exhaling against the pain in my ribs, I listen to her instructions and toss my bag aside. I’m already dressed in my PE sweats and tank top, a sports bra, and sneakers. I can do this. I spent all summer working out, swimming, running. I’m in the best shape of my life.
We start with a warm up that I’m totally self-conscious about thanks to Zack. I can feel his eyes watching my every movement, tracing the beads of sweat on my forehead, the moisture sticking my shirt to my body. He leans forward, eyes heavy lidded but nowhere near as lazy as Creed. Instead, he looks … interested. My heart thunders as I struggle to keep up with the assistant coach and her quick, strong movements.
By the time it’s over, I feel like I might pass out. The pain in my ribs is killing me, and I’m pretty sure if I had a knife, I’d stab both Kiara and Ileana. One is dark-haired, fair-skinned, and slender while the other is pale-haired, tan-skinned, and curvy. I hate them both equally. They flank me as I drink from my water bottle, and I make sure to stay out of their reach. Their eyes, however, follow me around the room, and when I step away from my water, I’m pretty sure they mess with it.
Sigh.
Since it’s Friday, they both have their phones and they make no attempts to hide the fact that they’re using them.
I’m assuming it’s to text the Idols, because we’re just getting ready to line up to learn the dance when the gym doors open, and Tristan walks in with Harper at his side. She’s spitting mad, but nowhere near the level that Becky’s at. The way she glares at me … looks might not be able to kill, but I can feel the hatred on my skin like the searing heat of a scorching sun. My flesh feels like it’s liable to peel off under her gaze.
She’s got her long, blond hair tucked up in a bun, but it’s impossible to miss the naked patch on the left side of her scalp. Harper might not know it, but she’s next. I don’t know how or when, but it’s totally happening.
Zayd follows in behind Becky, his jaw so tight it looks like he might crack his teeth. His tattoos are bright and colorful, tracing their way up his muscular arms and disappearing briefly under the thin sleeve of his black wife beater. He’s got on baggy jeans with zippers stitched across them, and Doc Martens. Basically, he’s the opposite of Tristan with his freshly pressed white academy slacks, flawless jacket, and super straight tie.
Creed is somewhere in the middle, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, a pair of jeans and Barker Blacks paired with it. They might not technically be doing in-school suspension anymore, but they’re also not allowed off-campus until after Halloween. If they’re caught breaking that rule, it’s an automatic expulsion.
I smile.
I’ve really fucked their party schedule up.
The Idols take a seat on the bleachers, a cadre of Bluebloods behind them. I recognize the usual suspects: Myron Talbot, Ebony Peterson, Gregory Van Horn, John Hannibal, Valentina Pitt, Sai Patel, and Jalen Donner.
The remaining girls: Anna, Abigail, and Mayleen are all here trying out for the team.
Looks like they have yet to find a replacement for Andrew, and I already know Ileana is Miranda’s replacement. Great. So … the party’s all here then?
It’s impossible not to feel their eyes on me as I take my place in the center of the group. There’s a visible amount of extra space around me, like I’m some sort of leper. I ignore it and focus on the dance moves instead. Well … the dance moves … and Zack’s eyes.
There’s something about his dark gaze that draws me in, focuses me. At first, it bothers me so much that I stumble and mess up the steps. Laughter bubbles up from the bleachers, but I ignore it. My attention becomes laser focused on the way Zack’s watching me, his lips parting slightly, his lids getting heavier and heavier. At one point, he even runs his tongue across his lower lip, catches himself doing it, and curses. Amy Plumber, a fourth year seated next to him, jumps a whole foot in her seat, and I feel a grin split my lips.
We go over the dance several times before coach calls for another break. After this, we’ll come out in groups of three and perform it in a row. Scores will be passed out, and after, members will be chosen for the team. I have to get on it. I have to invade their spaces. By lifting myself up, I put them down. And that’s their own problem. My success should have nothing to do with them, but it pisses the Bluebloods off. Infuriates them. When I succeed, they feel like they’ve failed. If that’s how they want to live their lives, I’m okay with that.
During the next water break, the entire crew heads over to worship at the Idols’ feet, leaving me alone with the bottles, duffel bags, and an entire span of time where nobody is looking.
Kiara’s orange bag, and Ileana’s bl
ack one are right next to me. Bending down, I move my own bag, so that it looks like I’m digging through it. Instead, I search through theirs. Kiara’s is empty save for her clothes and some condoms. But in Ileana’s … there’s a half-empty bottle of ex-lax.
I knew she was up to something over here.
That bitch.
A shadow moves over me, and I jump, but it’s just Zack.
“Do it, quick,” he tells me, using his huge body to block me from the view of the Idols. While I’ve got a chance, I quickly dump Ileana’s water into my own duffel bag, hoping the moisture resistant material will hide what I’ve done. It’s worth the sacrifice. I pour the remainder of my own water into her bottle, and let fate take its course. If she hasn’t messed with my water, she’ll be fine.
If she has, she’s screwed, and it’s her own damn fault.
Zack moves out of the way just as I place Ileana’s bottle back, and she appears on his left side.
I sit down and change out of my sneakers, grabbing a pair of socks that’ve managed to escape the water fiasco, and pretend like this is what I was doing all along. Ileana chugs her water and wipes her arm across her mouth as I stand up. She moves toward us, a horrid smirk twisting her pretty features into something ugly.
She doesn’t get a single word out before Zack is inserting himself between us and moving me behind him. I don’t need his help, and frown, but he does it anyway.
“What? Are you her pet now, too?” Ileana asks, tossing her long, blond ponytail. “She spread her legs for you nice and good?”
“You should shut your mouth,” Zack whispers, his voice so dark and cruel that I shiver. “You should kill yourself, Marnye. Nobody would care. In fact, we’d have a party celebrate.” My mind shuts that down quick, locks the bad memory away, and tosses the key. That’s the last thing I need to be thinking about right now. “And keep it closed before you say something that really pisses me off.”
“What, you gonna hit me or something?” Ileana asks, stepping forward and getting in Zack’s face. I move around to stand beside him and catch a glimpse of the darkness that skirts across his expression. It’s ominous and chilly, and I realize then that the side of himself he turned on me is still very much there, crouching inside of him like a demon waiting in the shadows.
“No, but you’ll wish I had, when I’m done with you.” He looks her up and down, and then grins. Only it’s not like a grin I’ve ever seen from him, not even when he was making my life a living hell at LBMS. No, this is glee in the maliciousness, something he never displayed to me before. “Why don’t you tell everyone why you have those bruises on your inner arms? What sort of naughty things did you get into this summer? Because those are most definitely needle marks.”
“I had tests done,” Ileana blurts, but her face is reddening, and I can’t tell if she’s just embarrassed or if Zack is telling the truth.
“What kind of tests?” Zack presses, stepping even closer and putting his hands on her upper arms. Ileana shivers, but when she scowls, it’s as nasty an expression as it ever was. “Surely, that’d be an easy question to answer … if you were actually telling the truth. What was it, really? Meth? Heroin? Careful, Ileana, your trailer park is showing.” Her eyes widen, and I can see Zack’s struck a nerve. He’s good at that, though, and I get no pleasure out of watching him destroy someone else with his special talent. No, it hits too close to home. As awful as Ileana is, I can’t watch this anymore. “Did you know her parents got cut off from their fortune once, just like I did? They ended up in a trailer park, high on drugs and out of their—”
“Zack.” Just that one word from my mouth, harsh and final. Rule #6: Know when enough is enough. “Go back to the judges’ table.”
He stares at me for a moment, and then moves around Ileana.
I reach for her water bottle, but she jerks it out of my hand and spits on me. Literally. Spits right into my palm.
“Keep your grubby whore hands to yourself. The last thing I want is to get chlamydia.”
“No, you’re more likely to catch that from Tristan,” I blurt into the silence. This tension settles over the room as Coach walks back inside with a duffel bag bursting with pom poms. She sets it aside as I turn and meet Tristan’s gray gaze from across the room. He’s stoic and unmoving, looking at me like I’m a fly that needs to be pinned to a board and left to squirm.
I stare right back.
Ileana tips her water bottle to her lips and drinks deeply. She makes a weird face, and I wonder if the ex-lax has a taste. Unfortunately for her, she doesn’t seem to make the connection.
Coach assigns her, me, and Kiara (go figure) into a group for the official tryout portion. Ileana doesn’t make it through two minutes before she grabs her stomach and flashes me a look of terror. I don’t stop dancing as she runs off toward the restrooms.
I’m not sure when she comes back, but when she does, I’ve already been measured for my uniform.
On my way out of the gym, I meet the stare of every Blueblood in that room—paying special attention to the three Idol guys—and then I flip them off and head outside into the starlight.
By the time Parents’ Week rolls around again, the Idols have made their decision: they’ve welcomed Ileana Taittinger into their ranks, promoted Kiara Xiao into the Inner Circle to take Miranda’s place, and reluctantly chosen a fourth year named Ben Thresher to replace Andrew.
Their circle of arrogance, assholery, and privilege is once again complete.
The bullying has amped up again, too. We’re back to condoms in my locker, stickers on my door, bags of dog shit on my welcome mat. But it’s difficult for them to hit back at me where it counts, not with the heightened security on campus. They’re going to have to try harder if they want to match me blow for blow.
“Something doesn’t feel right,” I tell Miranda on Sunday, staring at my phone and hating the butterflies in my stomach. Dad is coming back to the academy. This freaking academy where I was humiliated beyond belief. I hate that he had to see me like that; it kills me inside. Plus … if I said I wasn’t still ashamed that he got drunk last time he was here, that would be a lie.
I’m nervous.
I’m terrified.
If the Idols wanted to find my weak spot, well, Charlie is it. Charlie is my beating heart, and if they do a damn thing to hurt him, I swear I’ll kill them all. Closing my eyes, I exhale and then open them to find Miranda staring at me.
“Doesn’t feel right, how?” she asks, lounging in a baggy pink sweater that looks worn and comfy but which I’m pretty sure is cashmere and costs like two hundred bucks. “Classes? Parents’ Week? Cheerleading?” She grins at that last one. Miranda is beyond thrilled that I’m on the team with her girlfriend, Jessie. Well, I think they’re dating anyway. Miranda’s been pretty wishy-washy about it.
“The Bluebloods are too subdued,” I say, sitting down on the end of my bed with a sigh. “I’m throwing everything I have at them, and they’re just … sitting there. It’s creepy, and it’s making me nervous, and I’m starting to think they’re planning something big.” Miranda puts her phone down and pinches her lips tight.
“I’m not going to say you’re wrong …” she starts, and then grimaces. “I mean, there’s a good chance you’re dead-on with your assessment. They’ve been quiet, but when they hit you, it’s going to hurt.” I nod. Pretty much what I expected. Actually, I expected worse. It’s a strange form of psychological terror knowing they’re holding back on me.
“How’s Creed been doing?” I ask, trying to sound super casual. In reality, I want to hear that he’s suffering, that he felt he made a mistake, that he—
“Dating that awful Valentina girl,” Miranda spits, practically choking on the words. She tucks some blond hair behind her ear. “He stole her from John Hannibal, but only because it was a game. He doesn’t like her.”
“That doesn’t seem to matter much around here,” I murmur, touching a finger to the ice-blue dress in my closet, the one Creed
sent me for the graduation gala, the dance where I definitely did not choose him. Thinking about it now, I wonder if I made a mistake, if I should’ve refused to pick between the boys and— Groaning, I lean my forehead against the door of the wardrobe. Really? I’m concerned about Creed’s and Tristan’s feelings now, after everything? How they felt when I walked in that room holding Zayd’s hand is freaking irrelevant.
I slam the wardrobe closed and turn around.
“Is she the prettiest? Does she have the most money? Is her family name old and well-established? Can her parents’ company get something from your parents’ company, or vice versa? Because those all seem to be more important reasons than love or even like when it comes to marrying for the super-rich.”
“Probably something to do with the stupid Club,” Miranda scoffs, flicking her finger across her phone screen. Pretty sure she’s on Tinder, scoping out girls. Now that we’re both cool with her coming out, she’s been obsessing over girls the way I obsessed over the Idol boys last year. I wonder if I was that sappy and hormone ridden? Yep, yep, I definitely was. “My dad actually wants me to join it. My mom says no way.” She glances up and lets a soft smile fall across her lips. “You know, she’s excited to see you tomorrow.”
I grimace and turn away. I will never forget Kathleen Cabot’s face on that awful day, the way she looked at her son, like he was the scum of the earth, the way she fell on her knees in the principal’s office and cried while apologizing to me. According to Kathleen, I was her student, her responsibility, so how could she let this happen? I don’t blame her at all, but I know she blames herself.
“Yeah, I’m excited to see her, too …” I trail off and check my phone, tapping my thumb against the side. A whole year ago, Zack appeared from the back of that academy car, climbing out behind my dad. He helped him when he was drunk, and he told me … “Your dad got some news last night.” An entire year later, and I still don’t know what that news is, and Dad’s acting weirder than ever. He’s still trying to force a relationship with Jennifer, and he gave me Grandma’s bracelet with his wedding band on it … I don’t like it, not any of it.
Bad, Bad Blu Bloods Page 8