“We’re here to give you a ride,” he says, holding the backseat door open for me. He flashes his little boy grin at me. “Good morning, Juliet.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need a ride. I have a car.” I gesture to my reliable little Nissan.
“It’s your first day at Leclare, girl. You need to arrive in style,” Mack declares. He pats the outside of the door for emphasis.
I look from him to Nick, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Did Johnny put you guys up to this?”
“No—” Nick starts to deny, but Mack cuts him off with a snort.
“Johnny hooked up with Jack Daniels last night, and now he has morning-after regrets. Dude can’t say anything but, ‘owww.’ I never saw him that hung over.” He laughs. “Dean told us to pick you up.”
“Dean?” I mouth, completely surprised. “Why would he care?”
“I think he felt bad about Friday, you know? We all do.” Nick looks down at the ground, shrugging uncomfortably. “He would’ve come himself, but he had an early morning meeting with Coach.”
Dean felt bad? Dean has feelings? Confused, I slide into the backseat without another word. Truthfully, I’m relieved to have these two in my corner. Suddenly, my first day doesn’t seem so daunting, not with Nick and Mack around.
“Hey, I was thinking about you last night,” Mack says, half-turning in his seat to look at me.
“You were?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Not like that! Actually, my stomach was thinking about that awesome—what did you call it? The thing with the tortillas, and eggs, and salsa. You made it for us once? It was so good.”
I settle back against the comfortable leather seat, smiling. “The Mexican lasagna?”
“Yeah! Man, I was drooling, picturing it last night.”
“That’s what you were thinking about?” Nick chuckles, slipping on his sunglasses. “Thank god. You were looking in my direction with this dopey ass grin on your face…I thought you were gonna start buying me flowers and shit.”
Big Mack laughs along with him—just for a few seconds. Then his face turns to stone, and his puppy dog eyes turn into a mad dog glare.
“That’s not funny.”
Nick winces. “Kidding, dude.”
“I could make you another one,” I say from the backseat. “Anytime. I love cooking for you guys.”
“Ah, I love you, pretty girl! You’re awesome.” He grins over at me, then turns to Nick with a severe look, pointing a finger at him. “You, I could never love. And you definitely ain’t pretty.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I say teasingly, leaning forward to tug on Nick’s tousled brown hair. “A little mascara, a little blush…maybe some fuchsia lip gloss?”
“Nah, fuchsia’s not my color. I look like shit in it,” he says casually.
“And you know this how?”
I lean forward between the two fronts seats and twist my body to look at Nick. He’s rubbing his stubbly chin, a cute little smile on his face.
“Well, you know…hm. Okay, I made the mistake of passing out at Ben’s house one night. I was, like, drunk off my ass, and—you know his little sister, Mackenzie? She enters all those Little Miss beauty pageants, and she’s got these crazy makeup kits. So I pass out on his couch, right, and the next morning I wake up in full drag. He even got those—those little fake nails on me. I had a bitch of a time getting them off.”
An image pops into my head of Nick, dressed like a beauty queen, fake wig askew as he desperately tries to yank off his press on nails. I lean back, trying to stifle my snickers.
He lifts his head to look at me in the rearview mirror. “Don’t think I don’t see you laughing over there, Juliet,” he says mock accusingly.
“I’m not.” I press a fist to my mouth to cover my huge grin. “I’m just…I’m so happy.” I choke on a giggle.
Mack, who had been silently amused until now, speaks up. “So, when was this? And does anyone have pictures?”
Nick stops at a red light, and turns to Mack. “You’re kidding, right? Ben had my picture on his online profile for, like, a year.”
Mack looks blank for a second, this his eyes grow comically big. “Holy shit!” he breathes, horrified. “You’re Sleeping Beauty!”
“Well, thank you…”
“Ah, damn it! That asshole, Ben!” Mack roars, moving his big shoulders irritably. “He told me you were his hot cousin from Norway. I’ve been trying to get her number for months—and all this time it was you?”
“You were gonna ask me out, man?” Nick starts laughing.
Mack is growling under his breath, a low-pitched rumbling noise. He seems very disturbed. Hell, I’m disturbed on his behalf.
Ben and his pranks! I clear my throat. “Hey, who wants to listen to some eighties mixes, huh? Nick, can you…?”
I hand him my phone, and he hastily plugs it in. He turns the volume up, and soon pure eighties goodness fills the Range Rover’s interior with its feel good beats and cringe worthy lyrics. Who can remain pissed when aggressive women are advising you to push it—push it good? Not Mack. Pretty soon, the three of us are rocking out to the music, dancing in our seats and shouting out the words to the songs. I probably would have felt like a big dork if I got caught doing it alone, but with Nick and Mack there—I just don’t care when the people in the passing cars stare at us like we’re lunatics. I even briefly consider licking the window for the glaring old couple in the car next to us at a stop sign.
I wouldn’t have. I don’t even know why that popped into my head.
All too soon, we arrive at the Leclare Academy for Rich Kids. Okay, it’s just Leclare Academy, but have you seen their parking lot? My little Nissan will get a complex being sandwiched between all the Porsches and the Lexus.
The campus is comprised of sprawling green lawns and three gleaming white buildings that look like they were designed with a Spanish monastery in mind. There’s even a little bell tower in the main building. Nice touch!
There are students milling around in the parking lot and on the lawn in front of the main building, and many of them greet Nick and Mack as we make our way to the office. I can feel curious eyes on me, but it’s easy to ignore them when I’m sandwiched between my two hottie escorts.
Still, I wonder how many of them were at the party on Friday. How many people know that I’m Johnny Parker’s very recent ex? Is it just paranoia that makes it seem like people are whispering to each other as we pass by? I get a weird itchy feeling between my shoulder blades, and I hunch my shoulders, trying to get rid of it.
After I get my schedule and a locker assigned to me, Mack gives me a big hug and wishes me luck before he takes off to talk to his French teacher about a make-up quiz. On the way to my locker, Nick takes a look at my schedule to see if we have any classes together.
“Just Government,” he says with a shake of his head. “Shit…Physics and Calculus? Are you trying to kill yourself?”
“What? I like those subjects,” I laugh, pushing my hair over my shoulder. Someone knocks into me, almost throwing me off balance, but Nick quickly reaches out an arm to steady me. “Thanks.”
“No problem. AP Lit with Shannon—Dean, Ben, and Sloane are in that class. They say Shannon’s great. Most of the teachers here are pretty nice—they won’t hassle you much. It’s the assholes in uniforms you have to look out for,” Nick says, and casually tries to trip a dark-haired boy walking by.
The guy stumbles a little, laughing. He swings his backpack at Nick, who ducks. “Dick!” he shouts good-naturedly before he rushes off.
“Yeah, if any of these guys give you a hard time, just let us know,” Nick says, nodding at a couple of pretty girls who enthusiastically greet him as they pass us.
“It’s not the guys I’m worried about,” I reply, noticing the girls giving me curious sidelong looks out of the corner of my eye.
He stops me with a hand on my arm. “Here’s your locker,” he says, pointing to locker B-115. He leans an elbow on the one n
ext to it, and smiles down at me. “Well, I can’t beat up any girls for you, but I can tell you I’ll always be here if you need someone to talk to.”
“Thanks,” I say gratefully. Then I shake my head. “I’ll be okay. I just…it’s high school, so I know people are going to be talking about…you know. He’s a big deal around here, isn’t he?”
I don’t have to say his name. Nick nods sympathetically. “Listen, it would kill Johnny if he knew anyone was hassling you because of him. Just ignore that shit, and eventually it will blow over. If not, I could always make an ass of myself so the gossip freaks have someone else to focus on.” He grins crookedly.
“Hm, thanks, but you’re a high school football player—aren’t you pretty much required to make an ass out of yourself on a daily basis?”
“Um…ow. But, yeah, you’re right, we all have a quota to fill.” Nick ruffles my hair in a playful way. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your first class.”
I realize just how popular Nick is when pretty much everyone we walk by acknowledges him in some way. And he always greets them back—from the popular-looking kids to the…not-so-popular-looking ones. He’s such a great guy. No wonder Johnny’s friends with him.
It’s going to be awkward hanging out with his group. I didn’t think about it. Who gets the kids in the divorce? I suppose they were his friends first. I guess I could make new ones here, and gradually start distancing myself from the guys.
Or I could entice them over to the dark side with my Mexican lasagna and baked goods. He can keep the girls. And Ryan and Jason. That’s fair, right?
I try to make Nick leave when I find out his first class is in a different building, but he insists on walking me to the door. He pats me on the shoulder and tells me he’ll see me in Government before he takes off at a dead saunter.
For one brief humiliating moment, I feel like a child whose parent has just abandoned them on the first day of school. I have a strong urge to run after Nick, and wrap my arms around his legs as he tries to walk away. I can even see it in my head. Why are only little kids allowed to do things like that? Am I not allowed to be needy, too?
Shut up, Juliet. Time to face the music.
It’s actually not that bad. My first two classes go off without a hitch. Some people are nice, some stare and whisper. No one goes out of their way to talk to me, which is fine by me. I could go up to them and introduce myself, but I don’t. I’m not exactly the friendly type, myself.
Note to self: never ask a bitchy-looking cheerleader for directions. They’re mean, and they lie.
Thankfully, I run into Aunt Jo before I can embarrass myself by bursting into frustrated tears. I hate being late!
“Aunt” is more of an honorary title. Joanne Liddell is a family friend, as well as head of Leclare Academy. Her influence, along with my grandmother’s generosity, is the reason I was accepted after the admissions deadline. She doesn’t have to tell me I’d better not screw it up.
“Well, Juliet,” Aunt Jo says. “What class are you about to be late for?”
I skid to a stop in front of her, my shoes sliding a little on the slick floor. “Hi, Aunt—Ms. Liddell. Government, room 211. Am I even close?”
Aunt Jo’s stern face relaxes into a slight smile. “You aren’t even in the right building. Come on, then. I’ll walk with you.”
I sigh in relief. “Thanks.”
“So, what do you think of Leclare so far?” she asks, and there’s no mistaking the hint of pride and satisfaction in her voice. Like there’s no doubt I’m suitably awed by her school’s utter perfection.
“It’s great,” I say quickly, trying not to give in to my urge to yank her into a faster pace. “It’s a big change from my old school.”
“I’ll bet,” Aunt Jo comments with a little smirk. “I can’t tell you how pleased your grandmother was that you finally decided to attend the Academy. She always said you were Leclare material.”
I swallow the sarcastic comments I want to make right now. “Yeah, she’s been wanting me to go here forever. And I’m so grateful that she paid for my tuition.”
Aunt Jo raises her thick dark eyebrows. “Yes, and it only took a boy to change your mind.”
“Huh?” I don’t even know why I pretend to be so shocked, but my eyes widen and I put a hand to my chest dramatically. “A boy?”
She just gives me a look. “You’re dating Johnny Parker. I’ve got ears—I’ve heard the gossip. You and Johnny are a hot topic around here.”
I look down at my shoes as we cross the skywalk to the other building. Her ears can’t be that good if she hasn’t heard about the breakup yet. I know people are talking about it. And what exactly did she hear? Is she going to tell my grandmother? Oh, god. Think what you want, but that woman scares the shit out of me. Her and her doll collection…judging me…with the glass eyes…
Oh, Aunt Jo is still talking.
“—always on the brink of disaster.” Disaster? She must be talking about Johnny. She shakes her head. “He thinks he’s untouchable, but he’s in for a rude awakening. I don’t think your grandmother would approve of him,” she concludes warningly.
Oh, yeah, that’s right. Remind me how I’m under Grandma’s thumb now thanks to her generous contribution toward my education.
“…date Dean Youngblood. He’s an excellent student and athlete, as well as extremely good-looking.”
“Say what?” I turn to her, shocked. “You know they’re stepbrothers, right?”
She raises an eyebrow. “And? All’s fair in love and war, right? Do you know who said that, Juliet?”
“I don’t know,” I mutter. “Some dead guy?”
“John Lyly, an English poet and playwright, among other things. He also said—to paraphrase a quote—‘there’s no smoke without a fire.’”
Huh? “Okay,” I say hesitantly. “I’m not…sure how that applies to…”
But Aunt Jo is frowning, glaring fiercely down at her clenched fists. I don’t know what’s going through her head right now. Maybe she’s pissed about the fires. Kind of non sequitur, but I can see why it’d be on her mind, and pop up at random times in conversation.
Fortunately, we arrive at my class before it can get any weirder. Aunt Jo walks in and greets the teacher, an older Asian man, while I cower by the door. To my horror, she waves me over and introduces me to Mr. Han and the rest of the class. She keeps a hand on my shoulder while she proceeds to tell the class—basically, what a catch I am. I’m not kidding. And while it’s true that I do enjoy watching sunsets at the beach, I am absolutely certain that my new classmates do not need to know that.
I can only stand there with a casual smile on my face, and a vacant look in my eyes. I can see Nick, sitting way in the back and snickering at me, but I have no desire to acknowledge him during this time of humiliation.
Aunt Jo finally leaves, to the subtle relief of the students—and Mr. Han, who turns out to be pretty cool. He tells me to have a seat anywhere that’s available, and I immediately head for the back. I plop down at the desk behind Nick, and the pretty brown-haired girl sitting next to him turns around to give me a curious look. When I flash a smile at her, she smiles back. I sigh in relief. Good, they’re not all bitches.
Mr. Han has us get into small groups to discuss current events. I find myself sitting in a little circle with Nick and the brown-haired girl, whose name turns out to be Sara. She seems okay, a little on the quiet side—which is nice. I can tell by the way she sends Nick little sidelong glances that she likes him. Nick seems clueless, joking and laughing with the both of us like we’re the best of friends. When he leans forward to brush a stray lock of hair over my shoulder, I notice the tiny grimace on Sara’s face, gone in a flash. Not good.
He walks me to Spanish, which I was counting on as being my easiest class of the day.
So wrong.
I walk in, and the first person I see is Kara. Her ice blue eyes lock with mine, sparkling with malicious glee. Next to her is Arianna, and on the
other side…
My stomach drops, and I gasp involuntarily.
Laundry Room Girl.
******
Chapter 8
I want to run, leave this school, and never look back. I want to grab Laundry Girl by her long blonde hair and slam her into the wall. Both compulsions are equally as strong, but instead of giving in to either one, I find myself rooted to the spot.
The three girls are standing by the window, wearing their school uniforms like Victoria’s Secret models dressed as sexy school girls. They whisper to each other while smirking at me.
I can’t stop staring at Laundry Room Girl. She’s really pretty, tall and lanky, with the kind of hair and skin you only see in commercials. She’s the only one who refuses to meet my eyes. The other two openly laugh at me.
I have to remind myself I’ve done nothing wrong, and I have nothing to be ashamed of. Taking a deep breath, I walk into the room, trying to force my movements to be casual. It doesn’t work—the best I can manage is a zombie-like strut.
The teacher must be late. Students are milling around, or chatting in little groups. Since most of them aren’t in their seats, I’m not sure which desks are available. I could stand by the window and pretend to be intrigued by the pretty scenery, but that would put me too close to the bitch group. I have to pass by them, anyway, to get to the desks.
“Slut,” one of them cough/says as I zombie shuffle past.
I freeze for a split second before whirling around. I know if I say something, I’ll be starting a war that I’m absolutely certain I don’t want to be involved in—but I can’t help myself.
“Excuse me,” I say incredulously. “Did one of you just fake cough ‘slut’ at me?”
Kara’s wide innocent eyes are at odds with her smug smile. “Wasn’t us. Must be your imagination. Or, perhaps, a guilty conscience.” She snickers.
Guilty conscience? What is she talking about? She has a mole right under her left eye. I never noticed it before—can she see it when she looks down? It’s pretty big.
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