Get Even

  Girlfriend? Got back together? “I’m not John’s girlfriend,” Bree said, automatically.

  “Wait,” Shane said, leaning into her. He smelled like cigarettes and perspiration. It was intoxicating. “You guys aren’t a couple?”

  Bree shook her head.

  “Are you serious?”

  “John and I are friends. Period.”

  Even as the words came out of her mouth, she could feel something shift within her. They felt hollow and, for the first time in her life, not entirely true.

  “Dude,” Grizzly said, stealing Shane’s attention. “Can we go over the set again?”

  “Same as we rehearsed,” Shane said. “Open with ‘Bangin’ Love,’ hit the two B-sides from the EP, then the new songs for the play. And I want to do the cover song Bagsie brought to rehearsal the other night.” He nodded to John. “You cool with that?”

  John cast a fleeting glance in Bree’s direction. “Yeah, man. Totally.”

  “Sweet,” Shane said. “Then we’ll close with ‘Bang It Out.’ Kosher?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Thirty minutes to showtime,” Shane said with a smile. “Let’s blow it up.”

  Shane, Grizzly, and Devil Dan headed to the stage to do an amp and mic check, but John lingered. He laid his case on a table, opened it, and stared at the shiny red-and-white bass.

  “Are you okay?” Bree asked.

  John continued to gaze at his Fender. “No reward is worth this.”

  “No Star Wars,” Bree said. “Be serious.”

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  Bree laughed. “You’re the only one, then.” She stood by his side, her eyes involuntarily tracing the sharp lines of his jaw. “Anyone who’s ever seen you play knew it was only a matter of time before you got a chance like this.”

  John turned his head and gazed down at her. Bree was surprised to see sadness in his eyes. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  John took a step closer to her. “Is there anything you want to tell me? Anything at all?”

  Bree searched his face and saw worry, confusion. What did he want her to say?

  “I don’t think so.”

  John took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Everything’s about to change, Bree. After tonight, nothing will be the same.”

  Bree cocked her head. The combination of the distress in his face and the gravity in his voice worried her. “What do you mean?”

  John was so close she could feel his breath on her face. She wanted to repeat her question, ask him again what he meant when he said everything was about to change, but as she looked up into his eyes, the words died on her tongue. John leaned closer and for a heart-stopping moment, Bree thought he was going to kiss her.

  Then he stopped himself, grabbed his bass, and slipped out the door without another word.

  She leaned against the table, out of breath. Why was her heart racing? Why did her skin feel cold and clammy?

  Bree closed her eyes and replayed that last moment. Lips parted, his eyes half-closed as he leaned down toward her upturned face. Bree started, her eyes flew open. John had almost kissed her. Of that she was absolutely freaking positive.

  Even more disturbing? Bree had wanted him to.

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  FORTY-FOUR

  AMBER TAPPED HER FOOT IMPATIENTLY IN THE PARKING LOT as Olivia and Peanut rounded the corner. “Come on,” she barked. “There’s already a line and you know how I hate to be in the back.”

  “Yeah.” Jezebel folded her arms, mimicking Amber’s stance. “I hate to be in the back.”

  “Sorry!” Peanut scurried to her side, scuffing her wedges across the asphalt. “There was traffic.”

  “Mm-hm.” Amber cast a searing glance at Olivia. “More like you had to make an extra stop.”

  Really?

  “But I always pick Olivia up,” Peanut pleaded.

  Amber looked Olivia up and down. “My old Zac Posen. How very two years ago.”

  “You never looked that good in it,” Jezebel muttered.

  Amber ignored the dig. “Olivia’s used to my leftovers,” she said to Jezebel, planting a hand on her hip. “But sometimes she gets greedy.”

  Greedy? “What are you talking about?”

  Amber’s nostrils flared. “You think I don’t know about you and Rex?”

  So that’s what this was all about. Amber thought Olivia was after Rex. The idea was so ludicrous, Olivia laughed out loud.

  “What so funny?” Amber said through clenched teeth.

  “You think I want Rex? That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it?” Amber said. “I saw you. I saw you at the bonfire. When I told you to dump that loser Donté, I didn’t think you’d go after my boyfriend.”

  Dammit. The bonfire. Amber must have seen her kissing Rex. How could she explain that she was trying to make Donté jealous after he had dumped her?

  “You tried to take Rex from me,” Amber continued. “And now I’m taking everything from you.” Then she swung around and marched toward the line, Jezebel at her heels.

  There would be no reasoning with Amber now, but she needed Peanut to believe her. “Pea,” Olivia said. “I never went after Rex. You have to believe me.”

  “I’ll try and talk to her,” Peanut said. “If you get back together with Donté, that might help smooth things over.”

  Donté. That’s right. She scanned the crowd, looking for him.

  Peanut giggled. “He’s not here yet.” She tugged on Olivia’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get in line.”

  A decent queue had already formed at the door. Mostly Bishop DuMaine students peppered with a healthy dose of Bangers and Mosh fans of all ages.

  Amber stared disdainfully at the line. “I can’t believe how long it is.”

  “There’s got to be someone we can cut with,” Jezebel said.

  “Ooooh!” Amber squealed, pointing near the front of the line. “It’s Logan.” She stretched her arm up in the air and waved it frantically. “Logan!” she cooed.

  Olivia followed Amber’s line of sight and a smile spread across her face as she spied Margot at Logan’s side.

  She looked like a totally new person. Her hair was swept loosely back from her face, which was artfully framed by escaping curls. With a tiny amount of shimmer from the cosmetics Olivia had suggested, Margot looked radiant. Her face was glowing with happiness, and she’d traded in the bulky sweaters she used to hide her body for a form-fitting scoop-neck top and boot-cut jeans. Still not quite as fashion forward as Olivia would have liked, but it was a radical improvement over the clothes that hid her from the world. Finally she’d been able to do something nice for Margot.

  “Hi!” Amber said, reaching out to hug Logan. He gave her a friendly pat on the back and began to pull away, but Amber wasn’t having any of it. She entwined her arms around his neck and hung off his body. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

  Yeah, happy you have a place near the front of the line.

  “Me too!” Jezebel added.

  “Me too . . . too,” Peanut said.

  Logan extracted himself from Amber and took a step back. “It’s good to be here.”

  Amber touched his arm with her hand, clearly oblivious to his body language. “It’s nice to spend some real time together. You know. Outside of school.”

  Outside of Rex.

  “Um, sure.” Logan ran his hand through his long blond hair. Amber’s attention seemed to confuse him. He wrapped his arm around Margot’s waist.

  “Have you met Amber?” he asked. “We’re in the play together.” Logan laughed uncomfortably. “Oh yeah. You already know that.”

  Amber gave Margot a once over. “Who’s your friend?”

  “This is Margot,” Logan said. His face lit up.

  Amber glanced from Logan
to Margot and back. “Huh?”

  Logan squeezed Margot close. “From rehearsal? She’s helping Mr. Cunningham run lines for Twelfth Precinct.”

  “Huh?” Amber repeated.

  Olivia could actually see the moment when Amber recognized Margot. Amber’s eyes grew wide and her face tensed up. Her jaw dropped a mere inch, and Olivia noticed the almost imperceptible intake of breath.

  The shock lasted a moment, replaced almost instantly by a steely, hardened look that froze Olivia in place.

  “Margot Mejia,” she said, drawing out each syllable. “I didn’t recognize you without all that . . . weight.” She turned to Logan. “Did you know Margot used to be really fat in junior high?”

  Margot’s shoulders instinctively hunched, head lowered as if she was attempting to hide herself in plain sight. No way would Olivia allow Amber to crush Margot’s spirit. Not again.

  Margot felt all the heat in her body concentrate around her face and was terrified that she was either turning a fluorescent shade of crimson or sweating like a turkey in late November. She was immediately twelve years old again, walking into school the day a photo of her encased in plastic wrap had gone viral. Logan would realize she was a loser, the fat kid who’d been bullied for so long that no one at school would be seen within a ten-foot radius of her. He’d practically fall over himself trying to get away from her. Shame, panic, and an instinct to flee that was so overwhelming her feet actually shifted position.

  Quiet the mind, quiet the panic. Dr. Tournay’s words were hollow and meaningless as the swell of bullying muscle memory swamped her rational mind. She felt her legs weaken, her knees buckle.

  “Margot!” Olivia cried. “You were absolutely brilliant running lines with me this week. A real lifesaver.”

  Margot glanced up, the panic abating. “Thanks.”

  “And I love what you’ve done with your hair.” She grabbed at the short curls that crowned her own head. “I can’t wait until mine grows out so I can wear it like that.”

  Margot could have hugged her.

  “Oh, that’s rich,” Amber said, wheeling on Olivia. “You sticking up for her?”

  “She looks gorgeous,” Logan said.

  Olivia smiled at her, and Logan’s arm pulled her into his body. Both gave her strength.

  Margot faced Amber. “I have a line coaching with you after school tomorrow.” With Olivia and Logan nearby, she felt emboldened in a way she’d never dreamed possible. “Mr. Cunningham says you have a lot of work to do, so if you want to come early I can probably manage that.”

  “I . . .” Amber’s voice trailed off and Margot saw the sheep beneath the wolf’s clothing—vulnerable, weak. “I don’t think I can—”

  “Amber!”

  Amber swung around. Storming across the parking lot were Rex and his buddies.

  “Who the fuck are you talking to?” Rex asked as he wedged himself between his girlfriend and Logan. His left eye was still discolored from where Bree had punched him.

  Logan stuck out his hand, affable and friendly as always. “Logan,” he said. “Amber and I are in the play together.”

  Rex turned on him. “Oh yeah? And what makes you think you can talk to her in real life?”

  “Dude, she talked to me.”

  Rex grabbed Amber roughly by the arm. “Really? I’m five minutes late and you’re all over Point Break here?”

  Amber shook herself free. “Five minutes? I was five minutes late. You’re like thirty.” She leaned in and sniffed his neck. “Drinking again? Really? You couldn’t invite me along to raid your dad’s liquor cabinet?”

  Margot had to give Amber credit—no one could shift the focus of an argument quite like her.

  “Babe, it’s a guy thing.”

  Amber folded her arms across her chest. “Then you and your guy thing can go stand at the back of the line.”

  “Fine,” Rex said. “If that’s how you want to be.” He turned to Olivia and gave her outfit the once over with an overt expression of lust. Margot wanted to throw Logan’s jacket around Olivia’s shoulders to protect her from Rex’s eyes.

  “Liv, you’re looking fierce tonight. Seriously making me pant over here.” Rex reached out and grazed her bare arm with his finger. Olivia flinched. “I’ll be seeing you later. That’s a promise.” With a glance at Amber, he marched toward the back of the line, head high, with Tyler and Kyle following in his wake.

  “Dude doesn’t know how to treat a lady,” Logan said, his voice low, his lips inches from Margot’s ear.

  Somehow, Margot didn’t think Logan had the same problem.

  They stood awkwardly together, waiting for the door to open. Peanut and Olivia chatted away about clothes and the play, while Amber tried to look as uninterested as possible. Margot barely noticed. She felt so light and giddy she wanted to skip around in circles. She’d faced down Amber Stevens and won. Her life was about to—

  An ear-splitting screech of tires jolted the crowd. Screams filled the air as a car veered erratically into the parking lot. Logan pulled Margot protectively against him, shielding her body from potential impact, but the car skidded to a halt just feet from where they stood.

  The driver’s side door opened, and Margot’s jaw dropped as the driver toppled out of the car.

  Coach Creed.

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  FORTY-FIVE

  KITTY AND DONTÉ ROUNDED THE BACK CORNER OF THE CLUB to find Coach Creed stumbling through the parking lot.

  “’Maine Men!” he cried to no one in particular. “We have an emergency.” His face was bright red and slick with a layer of sweat.

  “Coach?” Rex trotted up to him. “What are you doing here?”

  Coach Creed gripped Rex by the shoulder. “The enemy is here,” he said. “Hiding in plain sight, son. Basking in their victory.”

  “Um, okay.”

  “We can’t let them have this triumph. It’s time to take the enemy down.” Coach Creed pounded on the front door of the club. “Open up! This is Major Sergeant Richard Creed. You are harboring a dangerous criminal and I demand you open this door immediately.”

  Donté tightened his grip on Kitty’s hand, pulling her behind him for protection. “That suspension made him lose his damn mind.”

  The door swung open and a bookish guy dressed in black stepped into the doorway. “I’m the manager of this establishment,” he said calmly. “Are you a cop?”

  “I am Major Sergeant Richard Creed,” he repeated.

  “So you’re not a cop.”

  Coach Creed jabbed his finger in the manager’s chest. “You are harboring a criminal,” he said. “I demand that you give him up to my custody immediately.”

  The manager arched his eyebrow. “A criminal, huh? And who would this be?”

  “John Baggott.”

  The manager sniffed Coach Creed’s breath. “Dude, you need to lay off the Wild Turkey.”

  “Either give him up or face the consequences.”

  Coach Creed tried to push his way past the manager, who straight-armed him square in the chest. “I seriously don’t need this tonight,” he said under his breath, then half-turned and called into the club. “Tiny? I need backup.”

  Someone jostled against Kitty as he squeezed through the crowd. “What’s happening?” Theo asked. Where had he come from?

  Donté shook his head. “I think Coach Creed is having a breakdown.”

  Theo bobbed his head up and down. “Awesome.”

  Another figure stepped through the doorway into the parking lot. He was massive, six and a half feet tall and at least three feet wide, with shoulders so meaty it looked like he was wearing football pads under his black T-shirt.

  The color drained out of Coach Creed’s face as Tiny the Bouncer cracked his knuckles in wordless warning.

  Coach Creed hesitated as if he was considering retreat, then
suddenly pointed to the door of the club. “You!”

  Kitty’s eyes followed Coach Creed’s finger to Bree.

  “You’re his accomplice,” he roared. “You’re protecting him.”

  “That bullshit may work at school,” Bree said, fists balled up in defiance. “But not here. Leave us the hell alone.”

  Coach Creed breathed faster, his eyes still locked on to Bree. “I’m going to get you both,” he yelled. “Make no mistake. You’re both dead!”

  All around Kitty, students gasped. First he’d threatened Donté, now John and Bree. It was over the line, even for Coach Creed.

  He made a sloppy fake-out move and tried to dash around the double-wide Tiny, but the bouncer was too quick for him. With one fluid motion, he grabbed Coach Creed’s wrist and twisted his arm around his back, then drove the coach forward and pinned him to the brick wall.

  “How dare you attack an officer?” Coach Creed sputtered.

  “Sorry about this, Tiny,” the manager said, strolling up behind the bouncer.

  “No prob, Boss,”

  “Listen up, moron,” the manager said. “This is my club, and no one comes in here threatening my customers or my bands. So unless you want the cops to bust you on a variety of counts, including but not limited to trespassing, disturbing the peace, and driving under the influence, I suggest you get the fuck out of here right now.”

  Tiny released Coach Creed, who immediately crumpled to his knees, his cheek indented with the rugged surface of the brick wall.

  “And if I ever catch you here again,” the manager said, following the bouncer back inside, “Tiny’s fist will be the last thing you’ll ever see.”

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  FORTY-SIX