by Nikki Urang
Happy hitting!
~ THE (ONE AND ONLY) HIT MAN
15
The sun shines directly on my pillow, and my brain feels like it’s trying to bash its way through my skull. My tongue sticks to the roof of my desert-dry mouth. This is a nightmare. Memories of Luke being sweet last night flood me. It wasn’t typical. And now it’s going to be so awkward in rehearsal. I pull the covers over my head in an attempt to shut it out. Things will escalate to a whole new level of awkwardness for us now.
Something to look forward to.
Luke asked me out. He asked me out after I’d told him about my issues with people leaving. But he’d been drinking, too. It wasn’t tell-everything-younever-wanted-anyone-else-to-know drunk, but he couldn’t have been serious. He wouldn’t magically change his mind about dating.
Would he?
Brielle rips the covers away from my face. Light shines in and I claw at my pillow. I hate light. I wish I could disappear completely into this bed.
The bed sinks next to me as she sits down. “Drink this,” Brielle says.
I peek out from under my pillow and stare at the bottle she holds. She pushes the beer into my hand.
“I can’t go to class drunk.” That’s the last thing I need right now.
“You can’t go to class hung over, either. And it’s one beer, not a case. You won’t get drunk off one beer.”
“How are you okay after last night?” I say. It isn’t fair that I feel like shit and she looks perfectly fine.
“My tolerance is much higher than yours. Clearly.” I glare at her and take the beer. Her eyes shift away from me. “You’re awfully crabby this morning,” she says.
“So kind of you to notice.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. My head is pounding. “Do you ever regret saying something when you’re drunk?”
She laughs. “You’re not human if that doesn’t happen at least once in your life.”
I stare at her. I don’t want to know how many times that’s happened to her. “I told Luke some stuff I shouldn’t have.”
Her eyes widen. “Did you confess your undying love for him?”
I throw my pillow at her shoulder. “Not exactly.”
She places two rust-colored pills in my hand. “Take these. You’re going to need them when the beer wears off.”
Ugh. This is why I don’t drink. “He’s going to think I’m dumb.”
“No, he’s not. He’s not going to act any differently. Because for some reason, he seems to be less douchey when you’re around.”
Brielle walks to her dresser and digs through a drawer, flinging underwear, socks, and tank tops onto the floor.
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
“I can’t find my favorite thong.”
I stare at her back as she tosses more undergarments aside. “I didn’t need to know that. Forget I asked.”
“It was here a week ago. I wore it and now it’s gone,” she says.
The game. They have to have souvenirs. “Who’d you sleep with?”
She turns around and stares at me, a handful of underwear in her fist. “Excuse me?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You heard me.”
She looks at the ceiling, deep in thought. I can see when she remembers because her mouth drops open and she gasps. “That bastard.”
“I take it you know who has your underwear.”
Her eyes widen and she gasps. “It was last week when I went to the club. I don’t even remember taking them off. Sneaky little bitch.”
“Please stop talking.” I hold up my hand. I don’t want to think about her having sex at a club.
My headache is worse—from the hangover or from Brielle, I don’t know. I close my eyes and press my fingers against my eyelids.
“Oh, whatever, Sadie. There are so many worse things I could be talking about,” Brielle says. “Let’s go.”
“Aren’t you going to pick those up?” I ask, pointing to her discarded clothing littering the floor. I set my half-finished beer on the night stand.
“We’re going to be late for class.”
Luke stands in the hallway outside the studios when Brielle and I turn the corner on our way to class. My hands shake. What if everything that happened last night was just a mistake to him? Maybe he doesn’t want me to be the exception to his rule.
If I don’t talk to him now, I’ll chicken out. I know I will.
“Luke,” I yell. I wave to him when I have his attention.
He smiles and walks toward us.
Jessie passes him on the way and she tries to stop him with her hand on his chest. Luke gives her a tight smile and a nod, but he keeps walking. Her hand falls from his chest. She turns to watch him walk. When he’s close enough, he snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me into his side. Jessie glares at me and continues down the hallway.
Brandon walks toward us on his way to the studio next door for the senior ballet class. I can see his black eye from halfway down the hall.
“Holy shit,” I whisper. “That’s worse than I remember.”
Students turn to look at Brandon’s face as he walks past them. He sneers at a couple of them. They don’t ask questions.
Brielle follows my gaze. “Yikes. I wonder how long before he gets asked about that by the teachers.”
She’s barely done speaking when Miss Catherine comes up behind us, looking like she’s on a mission.
“Brandon, can I see you in my office?”
Someone yells in the hallway.
I stare at the scene with my mouth open. Brandon catches my gaze and sneers before following Miss Catherine into her office.
This can’t be good.
If he gets in trouble it’ll be my fault. And then he’ll be pissed at me.
Adam sits down between Brielle and me. “How’s it going, ladies?”
I don’t know what to say. Things could potentially be very bad depending on what happens with Brandon. I shrug.
Luke sits down beside me and smiles. “How are you feeling?” he asks.
I smile. “Fine.” Better after I just watched him blow off Jessie in the hallway, but nervous as hell for what’s to come.
He raises an eyebrow at me, but doesn’t move from my side. “So I thought maybe we could grab dinner this weekend.”
My lungs stop working. He obviously remembers last night and I can’t use alcohol as an excuse anymore as the reason he asked me out. He actually wants to go out with me. “I’d like that.”
Miss Catherine sweeps into the studio, her skirt flowing behind her.
“Shit,” Luke breathes.
“Luke, I need to see you outside.” Miss Catherine’s voice is like ice. It’s not the voice of an angry teacher. It’s the voice of a pissed-off mother. I wouldn’t want to get called out like that in the middle of class. Luke’s in trouble.
The classroom erupts in chatter as soon as the door closes behind them.
“Does she know about the fight?”
“Shit,” Brielle says beside me.
“It’s not good if she does. They take that seriously,” Adam says.
“How seriously?” They don’t answer. “This is expulsion material, isn’t it?” I ask, worried. If he gets expelled, my chance at doing well in Fall Showcase is gone. I’ll get pulled from the line-up without a partner.
“Well,” Brielle says. But she doesn’t continue.
“Shit,” I say.
The longer it takes for him to come back, the more I worry. I stare at the door. Miss Jasmine gives instructions, but I have no idea what she says. Any minute Luke is going to walk back through the door. Any minute.
I struggle through barre exercises, barely hearing what Miss Jasmine says. I’m too busy trying to piece together the events of the morning. Brandon doesn’t seem to be in an ounce of trouble, but Luke’s been gone for fifty-seven minutes.
Floor exercises are torture. What if Luke doesn’t come back? The promise he made last night seems so far away in the light of day. He’ll nev
er be able to promise that he won’t leave. Even if we stay at the same school, he’ll get over me eventually and move on to some other girl.
“Sadie, are you all right?” Miss Jasmine asks.
Half the class turns to look at me. I look down at the floor. I don’t like it when everyone stares at me.
“I’m fine,” I manage.
Drills are too much. I’m so frazzled that I can barely stay still long enough to keep my balance. I stare at the clock as the seconds tick by, passing the time until I can get out of this room and find out what’s going on. My eyes drift over to Brielle beside me. She looks just as nervous.
When class ends, I grab Brielle’s arm and drag her out into the hallway. Brandon walks out of the classroom and glares at us before heading toward the studios. I glare at his back as he walks away.
“Did I get Luke expelled?” I ask Brielle quickly. This is my fault. It never would have happened if I hadn’t been there. He can’t lose this opportunity for Fall Showcase. I know how much it means to him. To us.
“You didn’t do anything,” Brielle says, sympathy in her eyes.
“That’s not a no.”
The last of the kids file out of the classroom. Brielle watches them drift down the hallway. “I’m not really sure. There’s a zero tolerance policy for fighting here. His parents are the head of the department, but they also have to protect the school’s reputation. Those two guys that were fighting over that girl last month got expelled,” she says.
I run my hands through my hair. This whole situation is so fucked up. Why couldn’t things be normal between Luke and me? Why did I have to fall for him? And why did I put his career in jeopardy? He’s going to hate me.
Brielle wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me into her side in an awkward hug. “Come on. We’re going to be late. Plus, you need to find Luke.”
16
Luke sits outside our studio when I arrive. At least he hasn’t been kicked out yet. That means there’s still a chance to save him.
“Hey,” I say.
He stands up when I reach him. “Hey.”
“What did Miss Catherine say?”
He looks at the ground. “I’m suspended for a week. I’m not allowed in the studio during class times. I only hung around so I could tell you.”
My mouth falls open. A week? How are we supposed to rehearse? He can’t be suspended for a week. I’ve never gone that long without seeing him since we met. “She can’t suspend you. This is because of me—I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I knew better than to punch him.” He leans against the wall next to the studio door.
Yeah, except the only reason he punched Brandon was because of me. “You never would have done it if I hadn’t been there.”
For the first time, I understand that closing myself off to other people doesn’t only protect me, it protects them, too. Without his feelings for me, Luke wouldn’t have felt the need to protect me from Brandon. And he wouldn’t be suspended right now.
He reaches out to touch my arm, but I pull away. I don’t deserve him. He needs to find another girl who doesn’t have so many issues.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t do this, Sadie. Not after we’ve worked so hard.”
“I’m not doing anything.” But I am. I’m slowly pulling away and I know it. It’s probably for the best anyway.
“I can’t do this right now.” He scrunches his eyes closed and runs his hands through his hair. “I have to go. Mom will be pissed if she sees me still hanging around here.” He walks away from me, heading toward the dorms.
Time apart is probably good for us anyway. I see him the most out of anyone, even Brielle. We might have taken a giant leap backward today, but it was for the best. A little distance will be good for us. We can focus on Fall Showcase and put everything else on the back burner for now.
Miss Tasha’s class is brutal.
It’s more of a boot camp than a class since I’m the only one there. She drills me with technique exercises for an hour until she finally teaches me some new solo choreography. She’s quick to criticize every flaw she can find. By the time three o’clock rolls around, I’m exhausted from all the work, irritated that she’s in such a bad mood, and crabbier than shit that Luke isn’t here to deflect some of her anger.
“You’re distracted, Sadie. Focus,” she yells as I lose my balance coming out of a fouette pirouette.
I glare at her. My partner is beating up students and getting suspended. Of course I’m distracted.
I miss Luke. I didn’t think I would, but he helps balance out rehearsal. I miss his jokes and the way he would fight back with Miss Tasha. And I miss the way he would stand up for me.
She turns the music off in the middle of my dance. “It’s clear that we’re both in a bad mood. You’ve worked hard today. Take a break. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Gladly,” I say, grabbing my bag and storming out of the studio.
Brielle is sitting on her bed when I walk back into our room. “Miss Jess let us out early because we were doing so well. How was class? Did you find Luke?” she asks.
I fling my bag into the closet. It hits the wall with a loud thump. Flopping onto my bed, I bury my face in my pillow.
Rehearsal was a nightmare. It’s hard to focus on anything when all I’m worried about is Luke and when he’ll be back at rehearsal.
“That well, huh?”
I turn to face her. “Luke’s suspended for a week.”
“That’s harsh,” she says, frowning.
“I had practice by myself today. I think Luke’s pissed at me for getting him suspended.” And even though he doesn’t know it, I’m pissed at him for an enormous amount of things. The list is never ending, really. The suspension for fighting, the delay on Fall Showcase practice when we really need it and the doubt that’s slowly crept in over the course of the day about whether or not we can make something work when the odds are stacked against us.
“I’m sure he’s not mad at you,” she says.
“Tell that to him,” I grumble.
“If anyone should be mad here, it’s you. How are you supposed to be ready for Fall Showcase?” Brielle coats her fingernail in a layer of bright red nail polish. She blows on the nail when she’s done. Like it will help it dry any faster.
“I can’t get ready for Fall Showcase.”
Without a partner, I can’t rehearse my partner dance. Solos aren’t allowed in Fall Showcase this year. So if Luke gets banned from performing, I’m screwed.
“You should probably go talk to him,” Brielle says. “Tell him just how mad you are.”
“You think?” The idea is tempting. After the three-hour rehearsal I had alone with Miss Tasha, it will feel good to get some anger off my chest.
“Totally. And then you should have angry makeup sex.”
I gape at her. “I don’t think so.”
Brielle laughs. “Well, at least have an angry make-out session. Get all that sexual tension out there.” She waves her hands around in front of her.
She can’t be serious. Like I would ever do that.
“Well, it works for me,” she says, shrugging.
I narrow my eyes at her. “I have no doubt.”
Someone knocks on the door, but doesn’t wait for us to answer. Adam walks through it and shuts it behind him. “Did you guys hear?”
“We already know Luke got suspended,” Brielle says.
Adam’s eyes widen, apparently forgetting his own news. “Luke got suspended?”
Brielle rolls her eyes. “This is old news. What happened?”
He pauses for a second, like he’s thinking about what it was he actually came in here for. “There was a story on the news about The Hit List. Someone started a copycat game in Texas and some girl was sexually assaulted by a guy claiming he was participating in the game. The names of the girls up for points were announced publicly. The parents are pressing charges.”
“Oh, my God,” Brie
lle says.
I’m horrified. How could someone let this get so out of control? Now some poor girl in Texas is living with the ultimate betrayal. How many girls at The Conservatory have been hurt by this game already? And how many more will be hurt before it’s all over? I’ve already seen a handful of girls here get hurt first hand.
Brielle leans back against the wall. “Is it really that crazy that this happened? I mean, it’s a bunch of guys competing for girls.”
“I thought it was supposed to be shut down, but now it’s back. How is it even still running?” I’m furious that this happened. All because some boys wanted to have a little fun at some girls’ expense.
“Yeah, but I’m sure they have no idea who started it even if they can guess who’s been playing.” Adam crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the wall.
“I think it’s Luke.” Brielle stares at the comforter on my bed.
It’s not. It can’t be. But hearing it from Brielle is somehow harder than hearing it from someone else. She’s supposed to be my friend. She’s supposed to stick behind the things that are important to me. “Why would you say that?”
Her eyes widen as she looks up at me. “What? Sorry. You have to admit, it’s not like he’s completely innocent here. I’m pretty sure he played the last two years.”
I refuse to believe he’s the one behind the blog. Despite everything—the flirting, the girls—I trust him enough to know he could never do this. He might not be proving he’s stellar boyfriend material, but I already knew he wasn’t. He still cares about what happens to people.
“It’s not him.”
She holds her hands up in surrender. “Okay. Whatever you say.” Brielle sits down at her computer. She pulls up a search engine, looking for the story. “Whoever did it is messed up.”
I don’t believe I’ve changed her mind. Brielle is too hard-headed to ever give up that quickly on an idea. She probably just doesn’t want to hear what else I have to say about it.
Whoever created the game here and the copycat in Texas is sick. I completely agree with her. But that person wasn’t Luke.