“Don’t be jealous,” Rex said. He reached out to massage Amber’s shoulders, but she jerked away from him. “Come on, why are you pissed at me?”
Amber clenched her jaw but refused to answer.
“I’m not the bad guy here,” Rex said sharply. “We need to focus on the real enemy.”
“Which is?” Amber said without looking at him.
“DGM.” Rex leaned back against the lunch table. “We weren’t tough enough on them last year, and look what happened. First week back and bam! They hit us.” He slammed his fist into the tabletop. “We need to take matters into our own hands. Do whatever it takes to protect the school.”
Olivia didn’t like the anger in Rex’s voice.
“How?” Kyle asked.
“We can start by targeting possible suspects.” Rex stared across the courtyard. “Someone who consistently breaks the rules, even brags about it. Someone who has absolutely no respect for the name Bishop DuMaine and what it stands for.”
Olivia followed his line of sight across the courtyard to Bree.
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EIGHT
BREE EYED THE LUNCH TABLE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE grassy quad, where Rex and his band of ’Maine Men fucktards pointed in her direction.
“In the pandemic of douchebaggery,” she said thoughtfully, “Rex Cavanaugh is Patient Zero.”
John slowly glanced up from his comic book. “Did you think up that line yourself?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. Like it?”
“A little forced,” John said. “But you get points for originality.”
Bree smirked, but there was something about the intensity of Rex’s conversation that made her nervous.
Out of the corner of her eye, Bree caught sight of a small, huddled figure, moving quickly through the shadowed edge of the quad. Margot. She paused briefly to readjust the enormous backpack she had slung over one shoulder, then tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and disappeared into a hallway.
Bree’s eyes darted back to Olivia, who quickly gathered up her things, muttered something to her friends, and hurried after Margot.
Phase one of Mission Ronny DeStefano was in motion. Now Bree could turn her attention to more important things . . .
A quick sweep of the quad showed that her “more important thing” was nearby. Shane White sat on a bench beneath one of the giant elms.
Perfect.
Bree pulled out a copy of Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra, opened it to a random page about two thirds of the way through, and leaned back against the wall, propping the book up on her knees so everyone could get a good look at the title while she pretended to read.
She glanced up occasionally to see if Shane had noticed her. He seemed so normal and clean-cut hanging out with his friends at lunch, the perfect image of an everyday, unassuming DuMaine senior.
But Bree knew better.
She knew what Shane was like onstage, singing lead vocals in a local indie punk band called Bangers and Mosh. She’d seen him in a tight tank top, skinny jeans, and combat boots, guitar slung low across his waist. She’d seen the full sleeve tattoos on his left arm, and when he peeled off his shirt, drenched in sweat from a performance, she’d seen the tattoos that covered his stomach as well.
Bree knew everything there was to know about Shane White, and most importantly, she knew that he was a huge Nietzsche fan. She’d heard him asking the school librarian about Nietzsche last spring, and she’d been waiting all summer to flaunt her new collection of his works, hoping Shane might notice, might talk to her, might . . .
“Are you even listening to me?” John asked.
“Of course,” Bree lied.
John folded his arms across his chest. “Then what was I saying?”
Bree had no clue. “You were telling me how hot you think Amber is, and if I thought she’d dump Rex for you.”
John stared at her for a second, blinking rapidly; then his body convulsed, once, twice. His hand flew to his mouth as he leaned over and made a fake puking sound.
“Oops. Guess that wasn’t it after all.”
John wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I said I can’t meet you at the Coffee Clash tonight.”
“Pourquoi?”
“Band practice.”
Bree dropped Nietzsche to the ground. “Clearly, I’m hallucinating. I thought you said band practice. Clearly, you didn’t though. Because that would mean you’d finally auditioned for a band. And if you’d finally auditioned for a band, CLEARLY you would have told your best friend.”
John smirked. “Band. Practice.”
“Deets,” Bree said, snapping her fingers. “Stat.”
John sighed. “Let me try a practice first, okay? They may think I suck balls and cut me loose.”
“Doubtful.” John constantly downplayed his talent, but Bree knew how amazing he was with a bass in his hands.
He nodded toward Shane. “If they keep me around, maybe I’ll be as famous as your boyfriend.”
Bree scowled. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“True,” John said, with a cold gleam in his eyes. “But not for lack of trying. Maybe you should have gotten a large-print Nietzsche so he could actually see it from over there.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Or . . .” John pushed himself to his feet, surprisingly nimble for his gawky frame, and stuck his thumb and middle finger in his mouth, emitting a whistle that would have stopped traffic on Market Street at rush hour.
“What are you doing?” Bree hissed.
John ignored her. “Shane!” he called out, waving his arm over his head like a lunatic.
“Oh my God!” Bree grabbed his pants leg and tried to pull him down before Shane noticed. Too late. To Bree’s horror, Shane returned John’s wave and trotted over to them.
“I hate you so much right now,” Bree whispered, trying to control the blush rushing up from her chest. “So much.”
“Bagsie,” Shane said. He held up his hand and John embraced him like an old friend. “We still on for rehearsal tonight?” John nodded. “I’ll be there.”
“Sweet. Can’t wait to get you up to speed. We were blown away by your audition.”
Bree blinked. Holy shit, did her best friend join Bangers and Mosh?
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NINE
OLIVIA KEPT HER DISTANCE AS SHE FOLLOWED MARGOT through pockets of lunching underclassmen, past the science building, to the courtyard outside the boys’ locker room. It was completely deserted except for one person.
Ronny stood at a vending machine, stocked with nonsugary waters and diet sodas, and much to Olivia’s eternal dismay, devoid of all candy or pastries deemed unhealthy by the administration.
Margot slipped into an alcove behind the water fountain and left Olivia to it. Showtime.
“Looking for something?” Olivia asked.
Ronny glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, then slowly turned. “Um, I . . . er . . .” His face flushed red as he tripped over his own tongue.
“I know, it sucks.” Olivia leaned against the vending machine, stroking the glass with one pink fingernail. “F.U. won’t allow any junk food.” Olivia giggled as Ronny stared at her blankly. “Sorry, that’s what we call Father Uberti.”
“Oh.”
Olivia tilted her chin. “Are you new here?”
Ronny nodded vigorously, his eyes fixed somewhere near Olivia’s cleavage.
“I thought so!” Olivia batted her eyelashes. “I’d have remembered you.” She stepped closer and Ronny dropped his backpack to the ground, instantly forgotten. Now all she had to do was lure him away from it for a few minutes . . .
“So,” Olivia said. “What’s your name?”
Olivia grabbed him by the hand and circled halfway around, spinning his body away from his backpack. “Ronny!” she squealed. “I love that name. I’m Olivia.”
“Olivia Hayes, right?” he said, clearly wanting to make sure he was talking about the right person when he bragged to his new ’Maine Men buddies.
“That’s me.”
Margot snuck up to Ronny’s discarded backpack and fished out his cell phone, quickly attaching the cloning device, which would copy all its information, including his passwords.
“So, Ronny,” Olivia began, keeping one eye on Margot. “Where did you come from?”
“Arizona.”
“Do you miss it?”
“No.”
Olivia bit her lip. At this rate it was going to be hard to keep him talking long enough for Margot to clone his phone. She needed to amp up the charm factor. “I’ve never been to Arizona,” she said, squeezing his hand. “But I hear it’s . . . hot.”
Her performance seemed to be loosening Ronny up. “Yeah,” he said with a slight laugh. “It’s wicked hot in the summer.”
“I bet,” she said, grazing the back of Ronny’s hand with her finger. “Since you’re new here, maybe I could show you around sometime?”
“That would be cool.” Ronny smiled.
Now she just needed to set a date with him so Bree would have a chance to break into his computer. “What are you doing after school tomorrow?”
“Giving you a tour of my bedroom,” Ronny said, arching his left eyebrow in what he probably thought was some kind of subtle way.
Olivia made a mental note to never be alone with Ronny. Ever. “Why don’t we start with the Coffee Clash tomorrow? Say, four o’clock?”
“Are you sure that’s all you want to do?”
To Olivia’s relief, she saw Margot slip Ronny’s cell phone back into his bag and silently disappear into the hallway. Time to escape.
“It was so good to meet you, Ronny,” she said, blatantly ignoring the question. She stepped around him and began to follow Margot out of the courtyard. “I’ll see you tomorrow at four, okay?”
Ronny grabbed her hand. He wasn’t gentle. “Wait,” he said. He tugged her back to him. “Running away so soon?” He slipped his arm around her waist, holding her firmly in his grip.
Olivia tried to wiggle free. “I’m going to be late,” she said, searching the courtyard for any sign of people. Why did this have to be the most secluded part of the entire freaking school?
“That’s okay,” Ronny whispered in her ear. His breath smelled like banana and Altoids. “It’ll be worth it.”
Was this guy seriously going to assault her right there on campus in the middle of a school day? Mission or no mission, she was going to start screaming in ten seconds if he didn’t—
“Olivia!”
Ronny stopped at the sound of Olivia’s name, dropping both hands innocently by his side as if he hadn’t been attempting to paw through her clothes.
Olivia stumbled back as Ed the Head trotted toward her.
“Olivia,” he repeated, eyes darting back and forth between her and Ronny. “You okay?”
“Fine,” Olivia said. She wanted to hug Ed. “Have you met Ronny?”
“Transfer student from Arizona, right?” Ed the Head asked. His tone was steely.
“How did you know that?” Ronny asked.
Ed took a step toward him. “It’s my business to know everything about everyone.” He was a head shorter than Ronny and probably thirty pounds lighter, but Olivia appreciated the chivalric effort nonetheless.
“Right.” Ronny checked his watch. “Well, I gotta go.” He winked at Olivia. “I’ll see you later.”
Olivia forced a smile as he turned and disappeared around the corner.
Ed the Head stared after him. “Sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” Olivia said. “But . . .” She eyed Ed the Head’s backpack. “You don’t happen to have any donuts in there, do you?”
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TEN
“ERIK BIENKOWSKI,” MIKA SAID, NODDING TOWARD A GROUP OF senior lacrosse players at a nearby table.
Kitty shook her head. “I heard him bragging the other day in the weight room that he’s never read a book voluntarily.”
“At least he’s tall enough,” Mika said.
At six foot two, finding a guy Kitty didn’t tower over in flats, let alone heels, had been somewhat of a challenge. “Good point.”
Mika shifted her gaze to the table Olivia had recently left. “Tyler Brodsky?”
Kitty chortled. “You want me to date a ’Maine Man?”
“Fine.” Mika nudged her. “You know, if you had come with me to Jezebel’s back-to-school blowout, I could have introduced you to some hotties. The place was crawling.”
“Parties aren’t my thing.”
“It was pretty wild,” Mika admitted. “I got hammered. Don’t even remember how I got home.”
Kitty stiffened. That must have been the night Ronny assaulted her. “Really?” Kitty fished. “Do you remember anything?”
“Not really.” Mika shook her head sharply, then forced a laugh. “Just the usual: hangover, fuzzy memories. Don’t worry about me, Kitty Cat.”
“If you say so.” Kitty supposed it was a good thing that Mika didn’t remember the specifics of her assault, though Ronny had clearly taken advantage of her when she was too drunk to say no. Kitty clenched her jaw as the video flashed before her mind. DGM would make him wish he’d never laid eyes on Mika Jones.
Mika continued to scour the quad before she landed on a large group of juniors clustered around the outdoor amphitheater. A smile spread across her face. “Ah, I’ve got it.”
Kitty followed Mika’s gaze. Lounging in the middle of the group, taking up four rows of concrete seats with his massive frame, was Donté Greene.
Mika turned, her face beaming. “I know the perfect guy for you. Smart, handsome, and, most importantly, recently single.”
Kitty felt her face burning. Mika had to be talking about Donté. When Olivia broke up with him at the end of last year it had been the biggest gossip to hit Bishop DuMaine since DGM. What Mika didn’t know—what no one but Kitty’s journal knew, in fact—was that Kitty had a long-standing crush on the star forward of the basketball team. And there was no way in hell she’d have the courage to ask him out.
“Don’t you want to know who it is?” Mika’s smile was wicked.
Not really. “Don’t you want to tell me?” Kitty replied, taking a sip of water to hide her embarrassment.
Mika took a dramatic breath. “Ed the Head.”
Kitty spewed water all over the lawn. “Ed the Head?” she sputtered. He was at least a foot shorter than Kitty, not exactly what she had in mind as a boyfriend.
“Sorry!” Mika buried her head in Kitty’s shoulder. “Couldn’t help it.”
“If he could help me pass Algebra II,” Kitty said. “I’d consider it.”
Mika cracked up and Kitty joined her, snorting out loud as she laughed, an uncontrollable reaction that had plagued her since childhood.
“Hey, Kitty.”
Kitty froze as all the warmth drained out of her face. Donté Greene towered above her. His blue ’Maine Men polo shirt must have been custom ordered to fit his basketball player’s build. His eyes were wide, practically glowing in contrast to his dark brown skin, and the dimples that had puckered his cheeks a second before vanished as a look of concern washed over him.
“H-heh,” Kitty stuttered, horrified that he’d witnessed her snort-filled spaz-out.
“You okay?” he asked.
Kitty nodded, unable to find her voice.
“Hi, Donté,” Mika said, her voice full of mischief. “What’s up?”
Donté’s eyes never left Kitty’s face. “You have fourth-pe
riod algebra, right?”
Kitty nodded. So that was it. Donté needed help with his math homework. Too bad he was talking to the only Asian kid in school who wasn’t good at it.
Donté jerked his thumb toward the math building. “I’m, er, heading that way. Can I walk you to class?”
“Absolutely,” Mika answered for her. She jumped off the edge of the planter box and grabbed Kitty’s duffel bag, shoving it into her arms.
Donté’s entire face lit up. “Great!”
Kitty glared at Mika as she slid to her feet, tossing her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you later,” she said, trying to sound as menacing as possible.
“So how’s the volleyball team looking this year?” Donté asked, falling into step beside her.
“Good.” Kitty was happy for the small talk. “Not sure we can repeat as state champs, but we’ll definitely be competitive. How about the basketball team?”
“Awesome.” There was a softness in Donté’s voice that was completely out of place with his boulder-like physique. “A solid group of guys. I’m lucky to play with them.”
The warning bell rang as they approached the door to Kitty’s algebra class. “So,” she started, pausing with her hand on the knob, unsure why Donté had taken the time to walk her to class. “Was there some—”
“Would you like to go out with me?” Donté said abruptly.
Kitty caught her breath. Donté Greene was asking her out on a date. Fireworks exploded in her brain as all of her Donté daydreams replayed themselves in her head, no longer the fantasies of a secret admirer. Could this really be happening?
She smiled and opened her mouth to say yes, when she remembered Olivia. Even though she’d dumped Donté months before, going out with Olivia’s ex-boyfriend probably wasn’t good for the DGM group dynamic. As she wrestled with her answer, her eyes strayed to the ’Maine Men logo on Donté’s shirt. Not only was he Olivia’s ex, but he was a member of the ’Maine Men, sworn enemy of DGM. She couldn’t go out with him, not now, not ever.
Say no.
“Sure,” Kitty said. “I’d like that.”
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