Hunted

by Dean Murray

  I knew that quitting the team would paint giant crosshairs on my back though, so instead I lied.

  "I really am fine, Miss Winters."

  She gave me a long look. "Okay, I'm willing to trust you at least a little, but I want you to go see a doctor next week and get a physical. Ask him to write up his findings and then I want you to bring them to me. If you don't, or if the findings indicate that you're getting into any kind of dangerous territory, then you're off the team."

  "Yes, Miss Winters."

  I turned to go, but she reached out and touched my arm. "Adri, I really am just worried about you. I want to believe you, but your physical transformation over the last month or two is nothing less than astonishing."

  "It's okay, I probably wouldn't believe me either. I know it's crazy, but I really haven't been doing any of the stuff you're worried about."

  Something in my eyes must have convinced her because she took a deep breath and nodded. "I need you on the team, Adri. It's past time to break Missy's clique and I can't do it without you."

  **

  Practice went by in a kind of slow agony where time couldn't seem to manage much more than a faltering limp. True to her promise when I'd first agreed to become a flyer, Miss Winters kept Jackson with me the entire time. It was torture.

  I could tell that Jackson was trying to pretend like nothing had changed, but I knew it was just an act. I tried to lose myself in the stunts, but even that didn't work. The second or two when I was in the air was pure joy, but I always had to come back down and I always came back down to Jackson's arms.

  His touch seemed to burn. I knew it was my imagination, knew that nothing had changed other than me being hyperaware of him, but having him touch me now was painful. It was silly, we hadn't ever kissed or even held hands, but I'd started thinking of him as mine. Only he wasn't, not even close.

  Making it home didn't provide any relief from my misery either. Missy and a few of the other girls walked home with us—home with Cindi, really—so that they could help get things ready for the party. Nobody even pretended to include me in the conversation as we walked the few blocks to our house. It was too much for me; once we arrived I just went to my room and shut the door.

  I came out after a couple of hours so that I could grab something to eat and was astonished at the transformation that had taken place. I vaguely remembered Cindi doing some prep work the night before, but that had involved little more than moving everything that was valuable or breakable into Mom and Dad's bedroom so that she could lock it up once the party got started.

  Things hadn't looked all that different then, but now there were black lights, strobes and all kinds of crazy stuff scattered all over the house. They'd even put black paper over all of the windows, probably in an effort to keep the strobe lights from alerting the neighbors to the fact that there was a party going on.

  It was actually a pretty smart thing to do. We weren't particularly close to our neighbors, but that didn't mean that they wouldn't tell my parents about any parties that took place while Mom and Dad were gone.

  Missy apparently didn't have to go home before the party, because she'd already changed into a black tube top and shorts so tiny that she wasn't particularly hiding much. The rest of the girls were still just wearing the clothes that they'd worn to practice, but Missy's clothes were a definite preview of what was still to come.

  I grabbed some cold cuts, put them between two slices of bread and then retreated back into my bedroom. It was amazing how much homework you could get done when you no longer had anyone to talk to or anything else to do.

  It had taken a while for my bubble of indifference to fully dissipate after Miss Winters had pulled me aside, but as the last of it started to disappear a slow, burning rage began filling me up. There was nothing about this situation that was fair. It was bad enough that I had to deal with all of the squad's crap when I was at school. Having it—having them—follow me home was a million times worse.

  My first instinct was to bow out, to spend the night in my room and just make the best of a bad situation, but I was realizing that I needed to take a stand or they'd just continue to push. I needed to go out there and pretend like I was having a good time. I needed to go out there and flirt with whatever guys showed up. I couldn't change how the cheerleading team felt about me, but possibly I could start showing some of the rest of the student body that I wasn't as bad as they all seemed to think.

  I was still wearing my workout clothes, so I started there. I changed into a different tank top and some clean shorts, not because I was trying to compete with Missy when it came to who could be the most slutty—my shorts weren't anywhere as revealing as hers—but because I didn't want to come across as a prude.

  Some small part of me thought it was a sad state of affairs when wearing jeans made you a prude, but it seemed like that was how things worked now, at least when it came to the kind of party I was suspecting this was going to end up being.

  I snuck back out to the bathroom and checked my hair before putting on some mascara and eyeliner. Honestly that was about all of the makeup that I owned and I wasn't going to borrow any of Cindi's, not as pissy as she was being lately, but even if I'd had more options I still probably would have just stuck to the basics. I'd never felt like putting makeup on was going to make enough of a difference for the average guy to get past my chubbiness, so I'd never bothered learning how to apply lots of makeup like Cindi usually did.

  Five minutes later my teeth were brushed and I'd decided that I looked as good as possible. All that was left was to go out and deal with the bevy of skanks that I'd heard leave an hour or two ago and then start trickling back in over the last little while.

  It was obvious that the party hadn't really gotten started yet, there were only a dozen or so people there, but as I stepped out of the bathroom someone turned on the music and it was like some kind of signal had been given.

  Lights started going out and being replaced by strobes or black lights as couples started dancing or making out depending on how long they'd been dating. Part of my mind kept up a running commentary about the stupidity of what I was seeing, but I shoved aside thoughts about the strobe lights causing us all to get headaches and started towards a couple of football players who were standing off in a corner of the living room holding red cups and talking.

  The music was thankfully quiet enough that it was possible to carry on a conversation with someone as long as you stood really close to them. That surprised me for a second until I realized that Cindi and the others were probably keeping the music to a dull roar in an effort to help make sure that none of the neighbors realized we had a party going on here.

  "Hi, I'm Adri."

  The bigger one nodded. "Right, the new cheerleader. You're Cindi's sister, aren't you?"

  "Yeah, what are your names?"

  "I'm Vince and this is Reginald."

  Reginald, the smaller, African American guy, gave me a look that was almost as smoldering as Tristan usually hit me with.

  "The pleasure is all ours. I've seen you cheering at the games, you're slamming out there, girl."

  It took me a second to process his compliment. The look threw me for a bit of a loop. I still wasn't used to guys who were that confident directing those kinds of looks at me. What was it with the football team—did they all take classes on how to sweep girls off of their feet with nothing more than heavy eye contact?

  Vince apparently didn't want to just give up without a fight. "You are awesome out there. You're a year older than Cindi though, right?"

  "Yeah, I'm a junior."

  "Why didn't you try out last year or the year before? You're good enough and hot enough you would have totally made it onto the team."

  "They wouldn't have wanted me back then. I…well, I lost a bunch of weight recently."

  Vince's smile hadn't been quite as impressive as Reginald's but it lost most of its brilliance as he realized what I'd just said. Once a porker, always a porker. Maybe t
hat wasn't exactly what he was thinking, but I was pretty sure it was close.

  Things had already gotten awkward, but before they could get more awkward someone put their arm around my waist. I could only think of one person who would display such easy familiarity and I turned to smile at Jackson in relief that he'd been able to come after all. Only it wasn't Jackson.

  Tristan started to return my smile, but stopped when I frowned at him.

  "I liked it better when you were happy to see me."

  I stepped away from him, moving his arm away from my body, but he followed—not too aggressively, but enough so that I knew he was going to be harder than normal to discourage.

  "I wasn't excited to see you, I thought you were someone else."

  "Jackson, right? What is it about that freak show that draws you in so much?"

  "He's not a freak show, but for starters he doesn't throw himself at me like a drunken idiot."

  Tristan smiled, but it was just a happy smile rather than something designed to turn me into a little puddle at his feet. "Just because he doesn't know how to have fun doesn't make him better boyfriend material than me."

  He'd completely missed the point, but until then I hadn't realized that he'd been drinking. As he got closer to me again I could smell it on his breath and I winced a little. I had zero experience dealing with drunk people, but I had a suspicion that Tristan was going to be even more difficult drunk than he was sober.

  "Tristan, please give me a little space."

  "I could do that, but I have an even better idea. Let's go find somewhere private and talk about us."

  He'd pretty much backed me into a corner. I looked over at Vince and Reginald, hoping that they'd come help me, but it was like I didn't even exist now. They were busy talking to each other and very carefully not looking over at Tristan and me.

  "There is no us, Tristan."

  "I know you keep saying that, but we could be incredible together. You don't know how to deal with all of the crap that comes with being in the popular crowd, but I do."

  His face was only a couple of inches away from me, but I shook my head, carefully so as not to make him think I was trying for a kiss or something.

  "I don't want to be part of the popular crowd; I just want to be left alone."

  He leaned in even closer so that he could whisper in my ear. "That's too bad, because you're already part of the popular crowd despite how hard they are trying to keep you out. You're a cheerleader and you're hot, that automatically puts you in. You're lucky though because I want you for my girlfriend. You're not bitchy like the rest of the girls on the squad. I've had enough of that to last me a lifetime."

  It was more insight than I expected out of Tristan, and I mentally moved him up a couple of ranks. He was probably still a jerk, but the mere fact that he'd decided not to let Missy and her friends be mean to him was a plus. There didn't seem to be many guys who could walk away from a hot girl regardless of how badly they were being treated.

  The sheer shock of finding out that he was more than just a pretty face and a strong arm set me back enough that I didn't have an immediate response. I never got to find out what I ultimately would have said because a flicker of movement pulled my head around so that I could see past Tristan.

  I was just in time to see Cindi walk up and pull Tristan back away from me. I opened my mouth to thank her, but she slapped the side of my face before I could get the words out. My ears were ringing badly enough that I missed the first part of what she said.

  "…stupid whore! Is there anything you won't try to take from me? You're a fat cow and I'll hate you forever."

  Cindi stormed off towards our bedroom and Tristan grabbed my arm, stopping me from following her.

  "Let me go! This is your fault."

  Tristan shook his head and pulled me in close again despite the fact that I was pushing on his chest with all of my might.

  "I told you I could find out who pranked you. Don't you want to know who it was?"

  "I'm only going to tell you this once. Let me go right now so I can go try to explain stuff to Cindi."

  "What if Cindi was involved in ruining your hair?"

  The question hit me with nearly as much force as Cindi's slap from a few seconds earlier. I looked at Tristan, trying to determine whether or not he was telling the truth, but I couldn't seem to get past the fact that he no longer looked drunk.

  The girl who'd stolen my phone had told me he was dangerous, but somehow I'd thought I'd be safe as long as I wasn't alone around him. Looking at him now I wasn't so sure of that.

  "Was she?"

  "She didn't spray the dye on you if that's what you're asking, but she knew about it and didn't even try to stop them."

  "Who sprayed me?"

  "Missy and Wendy, but everyone else on the squad other than Sheree knew. They figured that she wouldn't be able to keep her mouth shut if they told her."

  "Why are you telling me this?"

  He looked at me for several seconds before responding. "I don't like bullies, but I really don't like people who pretend to be your friend and then stab you in the back."

  My mind was spinning too fast to make sense of everything that I'd just heard, but I suddenly wasn't so sure that I wanted to go and try to smooth things over with Cindi.

  "Do you still want me to let you go? Are you still going to go tell Cindi that you're sorry?"

  "Yes to the first question, and I don't know about the second part."

  Tristan released my wrists and then stepped back slightly so that I could get around him. "What are you going to go do now?"

  "I'm not sure, I guess I'll just try to keep this party from boiling over into something that gets me into trouble."

  Tristan nodded. "That makes sense. How can I help?"

  "I'm going to go sit in the kitchen to make sure that nobody goes down into the basement and messes with my mom's photography gear. Whatever you can do to help out in the living room would be awesome"

  "That's smart, otherwise someone will probably sneak down there to…well, you know, for some privacy."

  "Yeah, I know. If you can just try to keep people from breaking things or getting too loud that would be awesome. Also make sure nobody crashes."

  "Sure, I can have a couple of the guys help me take care of that. Would you rather I just shut the party down instead?"

  "Actually, yeah, that would be even better, except if I did that I'm not sure that Cindi would ever forgive me."

  Tristan shrugged. "Okay, I can respect that. I think you're giving her way too much credit, but I can respect that. You realize that you're going to owe me one after this, right?"

  I nodded. I knew he was going to want something in return, but I still didn't even know if he was safe to be around, let alone if he was the kind of guy that I'd be willing to date.

  The appearance of the sunflowers at the last away game had distracted me from the crazy girl's warning, but I hadn't forgotten about it. My number one problem was still figuring out a way to throw the old man off of my scent, but I still had to keep in mind the fact that Tristan was more dangerous than he seemed.

  Maybe the girl I'd saved really was crazy, but I couldn't take that chance. I needed to find a way out of all of this, but I had to do it without Tristan, the old man, or anyone else realizing that I was on to all of them.

  Chapter 21

  To say that I spent the next few hours in a state of misery would have been a profound understatement. Tristan was as good as his word, keeping at least one fight from starting and generally stopping things from getting out of hand.

  A little after 3 a.m. he told me the party had been going long enough. I wasn't sure he was right until he took my hand and pulled me to the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. I'd never seen so many people passed out in one place before. It was hard to tell how many of them had had too much to drink and how many of them had just fallen asleep because it was so late, but Tristan was a pro at getting people to their feet a
nd sorted out. He sent the drunk girls home with other members of the cheer squad who were less drunk and then he and a few of the other guys from the team started hauling their teammates outside.

  By the time 4 a.m. finally arrived, the house was empty except for Cindi and me. I looked around at the mess in the living room and the disaster in the family room and decided to just go sleep in my parents' room.

  It was a good plan except for the fact that Cindi had locked their door and I didn't have any idea where she'd put the key. I stood outside of the door to our bedroom for a couple of minutes before deciding that regardless of how big of a fight it provoked with Cindi, I wasn't going to be sleeping anywhere other than my own bed.

  "Open the door, Cindi."

  "Go to hell!"

  I wanted to yell at her. The anger that had been slowly simmering before the party was at a roiling boil now and it took all of my willpower to take a calming breath instead of coming unglued on her.

  "Open the door or I'll call Tristan up and have him come put his foot through the door."

  It was a bluff. I didn't have his phone number, but it did the trick. Two seconds later Cindi had the door open and was in my face.

  "How dare you even threaten to get him back over here. I can't believe that I felt sorry for you. I thought it would be fun to have a sister I could do things I liked with instead of one who just sat around like some kind of depressed lump all of the time."

  I started to respond, but she'd already moved into my personal space and I realized that this could escalate beyond just words.

  "I had this childish dream of us being best friends, but instead you've done everything you could to ruin my life ever since I got you on the team. It's just like Mom said."

  My rage hadn't disappeared, but between one second and the next it went from hot and frothy to a frozen anger that I could feel corroding everything it touched.

  "What do you mean just like Mom said?"

  "You're just like Dad. You make everything about yourself, you push people around, you take and take from them to get yourself ahead and then when they finally start to stand up for themselves, you pull the old 'woe is me' card."