by Bailey B
I didn’t do anything. I didn’t smirk or giggle or make any indication that I had an opinion. Her feelings are hurt and she’s taking it out on me. “Nothing you want to hear.”
“No one ever wants to hear you.” Melody and her friends snicker. She acts like her rebuttal is some huge insult, but it’s weak, especially considering this is the girl who stuck Kool-Aid soaked pads to my locker a few weeks ago.
Logan blows another cloud of smoke in their faces, his silent way of sticking up for me. His attempt is appreciated but not helpful.
I chew on the tip of my plastic fork feigning indifference, but inside my skin is crawling. I hate confrontation. In a fight or flight situation, my initial instinct is flight. But high school is a warzone. If you don’t fight, you die—metaphorically speaking—and I’ll be damned if this bitch is what kills me. “Seems like we have something in common.”
Melody’s nose wrinkles, which is surprising considering how much work she’s had done. “I have nothing in common with you.”
I cross my arms and lean on the table. Melody scoots back. She’s nervous which makes me oddly happy. I don’t think of myself as intimidating, but it’s nice to know that I can be if needed. “I hear it all, Melody. You love to whisper about me. About how I’m on drugs and laugh about who I’ve done this and that with. But what you don’t realize is that people whisper about you too. Your friends…” I look at Sarah and Rachel, innocent bystanders in this conversation. “Not these two.” My gaze finds Melody again, “but your other friends talk about you almost as much as you talk about me. The only difference between us is, I get paid to spread my legs. Last thing I heard a guy gave you was chlamydia.”
Logan snickers, exhaling another cloud of smoke in their direction. Melody stands. She grabs the styrofoam cup on Sarah’s tray and tosses the orange liquid in my face. “Hey!” Sarah yells. Melody ignores her friend and smirks.
I wipe my eyes with the hem of my shirt, seemingly unfazed. I have a spare shirt in my shoulder bag. I’m not worried about it, just a little irritated. Actually, I should thank Melody. I have a calculus exam next period. She just got me out of it.
Logan, however, is pissed. He stands and shoves the tip of his cigarette in the middle of Melody’s overpriced veggie burger. He raises his hand, pointing a finger in her face. “Back the fuck off.”
Melody puts her hands on her hips. “What the hell, Logan? Is she that good in bed?”
“Fuck you!” I spit, reaching for a few napkins. I dab at my shirt, but it’s useless. It’s a huge orange shit stain and my bra’s peeking through the wetness.
“I can end you, Melody.” Logan flips what’s left of her tray off the table. It flies a foot in the air then falls into a heaping mess beside us. A few heads turn, curious but not willing to intervene where Logan’s concerned.
“What, like you ended Piper?” She scoffs then turns her attention to me. “You know he’s the one who told everyone you gave a killer blowjob for fifty bucks.”
“Shit,” Logan mumbles, hand running through his hair.
My heart squeezes. Logan and I may not have been friends last year, but I didn’t think we were enemies. As betrayed as I feel, I won’t give Melody the satisfaction of seeing me wounded. “That’s because he knows firsthand.” Internally I’m gagging at the thought of Logan and I together, but to them I’m smiling. Happy to brag about another conquest. “Face it, Bitch, you got my sloppy seconds.”
3
Piper
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
“Piper?” The bedroom door creeps open. I press my hands against the grey comforter and push myself into a sitting position, then cross my legs. My phone rests beside me, Kindle app still open. I read a lot of romance novels. Our school counselor said I needed a reminder that not all men are the same. Reading apparently is a safe way for me to overcome some of my issues. The problem with my counselor’s theory, real life isn’t a story book. Some hot guy with abs of steel and a giant dick isn’t going to rescue me and make everything better.
“You’re up late.” I say getting comfortable. This time of night, it should be Cooper coming in. Instead I’m met with the other Harris brother.
Logan crosses the room. His strides while long are slow. Even though baseball and football season is over, he still wakes up at the crack of dawn to work out, making today longer than normal for him. The end of my California King bed dips. He sits, one leg under him, the other off the bed.
“Can’t shut my mind off enough to sleep.” There’s a vulnerability to Logan tonight that I don’t often see. A part of him that reminds me of the quiet eight-year-old boy I used to know.
Logan’s the resident troubled guy girls can’t get enough of. Doesn’t matter that he treats them like they’re disposable, that pretty face of his keeps them coming back, which only feeds his ever growing ego. His shoulders hunch forward, eyes looking at my stomach, not my face. “Can we talk?”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
“I owe you an apology.” I’m owed more than an apology. Logan ruined the second half of my junior year. Crushed what little self-respect I had left and forced me to find a creative way to handle the mess he’d made for me. Some random tool twisting my life down this path, fine. I can maybe understand. But someone I thought was family? I just can’t…
“Why’d you do it?”
Logan picks at invisible lint specks on the comforter. Even as a kid, when he was in trouble, he wouldn’t look at you. It used to piss Mr. Harris off something bad. Eventually Logan learned to look people in the eye, but it took years. I think it was a nervous tick, like his stuttering. “I was always jealous of you and Cooper. Did you know that?”
I shake my head, but quickly realize he can’t see. “No.”
“Growing up, Cooper was the golden boy. Dad loved that he looked like Mom. Bragged to anyone who would listen about his natural athletic ability. All anyone noticed about me was my speech issues. Mom tried to make me feel special, but there was always that gleam in her eye when someone brought up Cooper. And then you moved in and I became obsolete. Mom doted on you. Cooper took you under his wing. Even dad was nice to you. I didn’t matter anymore.”
My heart breaks for little Logan. I remember how timid and quiet he was. I always thought it was his way of being rebellious. You know, perfect life and all. I never imagined those antisocial traits were because of his insecurities. “That’s not true, Logan. Everyone loved you.”
He snort-laughs. “Yeah right.” He pauses for a slow, shaky breath, then continues. “I thought you and I would be close. We were both rejects in our own families—no offense—but you fell under the Cooper spell too.”
“You wouldn’t talk to me.” Those first few weeks, I tried to be his friend. I’d sit next to him, a big smile on my face and say hey. Logan would usually stare out me, eyes wide, mouth slack. At this point he’d either run to his room and lock himself inside or ignore me all together. Eventually I stopped trying and he started waving or giving timid smiles when I was in the room. It took years but I finally got sentences out of him.
“I couldn’t talk to you Piper, physically couldn’t. And then Cooper had to go and be your savior the first night when you had that nightmare. Any chance I had at you noticing me was gone the moment I saw you blinded by all that is Cooper.”
“You were there for that?” My nightmares back then were simple: locked out of the house, trapped in a closet, forgotten for days without food. They were nothing compared to what I’ve got now.
“Yeah, Piper. I watched from the doorway as everyone rushed in to save you.”
“I…I didn’t know.”
“Everything was always about you and Cooper.” He shakes his head, years of disappointment written on his face. “You know, I scored the winning touchdown at our Homecoming game freshman year? But all mom cared about was you. How you were gonna handle moving back in with your real mother. She didn’t even tell me I did a good jo
b at the game. It’s like she wasn’t even there but I know she was because I saw her in the stands. That’s the moment I started to hate you.”
Logan exhales and looks up at me. “People talked about you all the time. Everything they said fizzled out in a day or two. So, when Tad asked why Cooper was always up your ass, I made something up. I didn’t know that rumor would take off like it did. It snowballed out of control and it’s all my fault. And then with everything that happened this summer…” He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, shakes his head and reaches for my hand, fingers curling around my palm.
One Mississippi.
The balloon in my chest inflates. Tiny needles spread from my hand up my arm, similar to the feeling of when your foot falls asleep but ten times worse. My head is foggy, I hear the words he’s saying but they aren’t fully processing in my mind.
“I wish I had been a better brother to you. I was stupid and selfish and in reality, a whole lot jealous. If we were closer, maybe you would have come to me instead of leaving the party that night. If we had a better relationship maybe that asshole wouldn’t have…”
I pull my hand from underneath Logan’s and rest it on his shoulder. The pressure in my chest deflates, needles disappearing almost as quickly as they came. Logan’s honey eyes, red rimmed and puffy, meet my grays. “Nothing you could have done would have changed what happened. You can’t blame yourself for the way that night went down.”
Logan gives a half chuckle. “You’d make a good therapist.”
“I’ve seen our counselor more times than I’ll admit this year. I’d be disappointed if I couldn’t offer some advice at this point.”
Blue ballpoint pen raps against lined paper in my inch thick file. The pages inside scribbled with notes about my mom, how I’ve adjusted this year, and about the days we sat in silence.
Mamma T forced me to see Ms. Cherrybroom when I was released from the psych ward last August. I was only there for three days, the mandatory minimum when Baker Acted, but believe me when I say that three days in there is three too many. I left with a prescription for antidepressants, that I refuse to take, and a referral for a therapist. My weekly turned monthly visits with the school counselor was our compromise.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
“We’re down to three sessions, Piper.” Ms. Cherrybroom’s a big lady. Not fat, just big. Like an Amazonian woman. The large oak desk that fills most of the room looks small under her. Conversely, the leather seat I’m in, purchased as a matching set, practically swallows me.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
“I wish you’d consider Post-Secondary School. You’re too smart to waste your life in a dead end job. I’ve got connections at the Community College here. We can work something out, get you an academic scholarship. There’s no reason why our valedictorian can’t go to school.”
Same song different tune. Ms. Cherrybroom’s convinced my attempt at taking my life was a fluke. She doesn’t know the real reason behind it or about the two other failed attempts. She did however teach me how to better manage my anxiety attacks: breathe through them, control the situation, picture myself in a happy situation etc. Now that I’m all better—in her eyes— she’s convinced I’m ready for the real world which includes parties, college, and things she can’t legally talk about...whatever that means.
“I’m moving the day after graduation.”
Ms. Cherrybroom’s eyes light up. “I’m so glad to hear that. Where did you enroll?”
“I didn’t.” And I won’t. Every day that I stay in this tiny town I’m playing with fire. My bio-mom’s dealer, Gerald, is owed a debt. I refused to pay it with the currency she offered and pissed him off in the process. At the very least, he’s gonna want payback. For the moment, I’m safe. He’s locked up on a violation of probation charge for three more months, giving me time to graduate and get out of dodge. I don’t know where I’m going yet but leaving is my only option.
Ms. Cherrybroom sags back into her seat and drops her pen. It rolls off the desk, landing near my feet. “I worry about you, Piper. We’ve made such great progress this year.” Her long manicured nail taps the leather armrest of her chair. She’s plotting, choosing her next words carefully because she knows our time’s running out.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
My phone vibrates at my side, signaling my alarm. I slip the strap of my bag onto my shoulder and stand. “Time’s up.”
“Piper, I know our session is done but please, don’t leave yet.”
“Same time next month?”
P.E. can kiss my ass. I hate running almost as much as I hate being touched. And for some God forsaken reason, Coach Riley has decided to end the year with endurance sprints. He can suck a nut a die.
I extend the time on my counseling excuse pass and skip the rest of first period, physics, and my next class, P.E. Settling under the largest oak tree behind the football stadium, I pull out my phone and open the Kindle app. The air is a crisp seventy-eight degrees today. Hot by anywhere else’s standards but comfortable considering Florida frequently hovers in the high nineties before humidity. I sit on a few fallen leaves that the groundskeeper hasn’t raked yet and lean against the tree trunk.
“Shouldn’t you be in class?”
Good Lord that accent is sexy. No wonder Melody and her friends all but stalk Rex. I set my phone in my lap and fight the smile forming. I don’t want to feel the fluttering in my stomach or the racing of my heart. I want to make it through the next seven and a half weeks with no hiccups. All boys—specifically this one— are a hiccup. But what I want and what my body wants are two different things.
Stupid hormones.
“Shouldn’t you?” It’s the lamest rebuttal in the world, but it’s all I’ve got. The banter I’m used to entails slinging insults and normally begins with a derogatory comment. Rex is different from the guys who usually talk to me, meaning I should probably play nice.
There’s a small grunt, followed by a faint chuckle. A few moments of soft shuffling later, Rex is next to me. Heat bounces off his skin, setting mine on fire— that’s how close we are. I turn my head to look up at him because yes, even sitting down he’s a head taller than me. Rex runs his fingers through the grass—always green because winter only vacations in Florida. He pulls, separating a few blades from their roots, then lets them fall back to the ground. “I like your tattoo.”
“Thanks,” I say pulling the sleeve of my sweater down. Even though I’m proud of the artwork, I’m ashamed of what’s underneath it. Hiding my ink means Rex can’t ask to look at it, which also means he won’t ask about my scars.
Instead, he asks, “Want to have lunch with me today?”
Do I what? You don’t eat lunch! You disappear, hiding your gorgeous face from all us fangirls trying to sneak a peek at it. I mean, have you looked in a mirror lately!?
Rex chuckles.
Oh gosh, I didn’t say that out loud. Did I? Maybe he’s laughing at something else, like the beyond embarrassed look on my face. Or maybe he has a weird tick where he laughs before a sneeze or something. Yeah, that’s it. Any second now, he will sneeze. Please sneeze.
“It won’t kill you to hang out with me, Piper.” I bring my legs in, crossing them, then push my skirt down so he can’t see my underwear. I need to calm down. Rex is just a boy. A ridiculously hot boy who just asked me out on my first date. No big deal.
Yeah, right.
“It might. You know, kill me.” It won’t. Death’s a bitch, just like Life. I swear they’re best friends and have made a pact to never give me what I want. Two strikes, three of you count the time I cut the wrong way. I should have been out, but no. I’m still here. Mocked by Death and laughed at by Life. The story of my life ladies and gentlemen.
Rex has got a smile that’s almost as irritating as it is cute. “If it does, I’ll just have to give you CPR and bring you back to life.” My cheeks heat at the thou
ght of Rex’s mouth on mine. I bet he’s a good kisser. Yeah, because he’s had lots of practice. I push those thoughts away and roll my eyes, feigning indifference. I don’t know how it’s possible, but his grin grows, stretching ear to ear. Dude’s got a big mouth, like Chord Overstreet from Glee. It’s not unattractive, just different. “If you’re worried I want to do something sexual, I don’t.”
I want to believe him, but experience has made me weary. “Sure you don’t.”
Rex looks me dead in the eye. Bright blues meeting my grays. “You don’t trust me?”
“Hell no.” I say a little too quickly. Rex’s lips press into a tight line. He nods and turns his gaze to the parking lot.
Shit. I think I hurt his feelings. I reach out and set my hand on his arm. A zing of electricity passes between us, but I do my best to ignore it because he’s made no indication that he feels it too. Hell, for all I know this crazy attraction is one sided. Truthfully, that would be the best case scenario. “It’s nothing personal, I don’t trust anyone.”
Rex cocks a brow. “Not even Cooper?”
Damn him for calling my bluff. Cooper’s an anomaly, so is Bane, but for argument's sake I say, “I trust him as far as I can throw him.”
Rex smirks, reaches out and tucks the errant hair that’s fallen between us behind my ear. A classic movie-boyfriend move. All that’s missing now is the big kiss. I lean closer until our shoulders touch. The fire of his skin on mine burns through the sleeve of both my shirt and sweater. Rex’s head tilts angling down and to the side. I feel my heart everywhere—stomach, eyes, even in my toes.
This is a bad idea.
Bbbbrrrriiiinnnggg! The bell screams and I don’t know if I’m more relieved or disappointed that it interrupts our almost kiss. Rex grunts and leans back against the tree eyes closed. He stands a moment later, smiling down at me like nothing happened, and extends his hand. I take it, letting him help me to my feet even though I have no plans of leaving.