Hell Hath No Fury

by M. J. Schiller

  “Are you new here? I don’t remember seeing you before.” She acted all coy, her hands clasped behind her back, toes sweeping through the excess pool water collecting in the drain by her foot, mirroring her movements under my chair earlier. She was either keen in showing off her toenail polish, or she had a thing for playing in water. Either way, I wasn’t interested. But I remembered Haggerty’s words about her being a special patron.

  “Uhh, yeah. Moved here a couple weeks ago from Omaha.”

  A smile parted her painted lips. “I thought so.”

  “Yeah.” I subtly surveyed what I could on my left, searching the far side again. “So…uhh…I’ll probably see you sometime.”

  “Yeah. I’m here a lot.”

  “Uhh…well, great. See you later then.” I gave her what I hoped was a polite smile and edged past her.

  “Bye,” she sang out. Once I was beyond her a few feet, she said something to someone in a low voice and they giggled. It registered in my mind like the buzzing of a fly. A nuisance, but inconsequential.

  When I reached the end of the pool, I spotted Elise ahead of me walking through the archway connecting the men’s and women’s locker rooms. She was by herself. Beyond that was a second arch with the check-in desk on the left, concessions on the right. She had all her stuff with her. Was she leaving or getting a snack? I picked up my pace. I wanted to talk to her before she disappeared. See what she was like. She awoke my curiosity.

  I had to know what kind of girl hid behind that smile.

  Chapter 4

  Elise

  Someone shouted out my name behind me, but I ignored it. Whoever it was, they weren’t talking to me. No one at the pool today would deem me worthy of a conversation.

  “Elise. Wait up,” the voice called again.

  I recognized that voice, and he definitely wasn’t talking to me.

  “Elise!” He grabbed my elbow and spun me around.

  My gaze dropped to his fingers on my arm.

  He released me a finger at a time, huffing and puffing. Bending, he grasped his knees. “Didn’t you hear me calling—” His forehead wrinkled. “I got your name right, didn’t I?”

  I nodded, baffled as to why he would track me down like that. “Did I like…forget something, or something?”

  He scanned the surrounding area as if to find the missing object in question. “No. I don’t think so.”

  Then why did you chase after me? Then it dawned on me. I started walking again, my head down. “You don’t have to apologize to me. I was the one who stepped into your path.”

  “I know.”

  I halted midstride.

  He gave me a lopsided smile. “You walked right into me.”

  I looked away. What was he doing here, then? I blew out a breath, irritation clawing its way up my spine. “What then? What do you want?”

  He seemed taken aback, which I guess wasn’t all that surprising, seeing as I was snapping at him for no reason. I wasn’t mad at him. I was mad at the world and the injustice of the high school caste system.

  “I…uh….”

  I circled my hand in the air. “Yes…?” I glanced over his shoulder. Mandy was watching us. Of course she was. A snarl marred her pouty lips.

  “I…uh….”

  You already said that.

  He gestured in the direction of the snack bar. “Ya wanna get an ice cream or a soda or something?” The words tumbled out of his mouth like an awkward gymnast.

  My gaze darted to Mandy again. She’d been joined by Susie Pinkton and Trish MacIntyre, and they weren’t trying to hide the fact that they were watching us. Both Trish and Mandy had their hands on their hips. And not in a take-a-photo kind of way. More like an I’m-going-to-kill-you kind of way. I just wanted to be home.

  I blinked, my heart beating a bit faster even as I told it not to. “Why?”

  “Why?” His voice faltered.

  “Yeah. Why? Why do you want me to go to the snack bar with you?”

  “Bee…cause,” he dragged the word out as if stalling in order to have time to find the rest of his sentence “I want to get to know you?” He tilted his head, studying me with those smoky eyes of his.

  My lashes fluttered rapidly like a sports photographer’s shutter trying to catch the action, only they were mirroring my mind, trying to catch the meaning of his words. “You want to get to know me?”

  He nodded, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening.

  I sighed, looking at my feet for a second. “Well, let me save you the trouble. I’m a dork. A nerd. A loser. Hanging with me would NOT get your social life started on the right foot.”

  “Who told you that?”

  I blinked. I was getting a headache. “Who told me what?”

  “Those names you said, who called you that?”

  My mouth hung open. Was this kid an idiot? “Pretty much everybody. Yup. It was a unanimous decision. So…thanks, but…no thanks, I guess.”

  I turned away from him, but he ran ahead of me and did a one-eighty to walk backwards as he talked to me. “Come on, Elise. It’s only an ice cream cone. You’re not afraid of a harmless old ice cream cone, are you?” He wriggled his eyebrows in this absolutely adorable way.

  I had to laugh. “You’re a nut.”

  “Ahh. There’s that smile. You should use it more often.”

  “Yeah. I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.” I tried to scoot around him.

  “Come. On,” he whined. “If you don’t want to talk about you, then I’ll talk about me.”

  I stopped. “And what would the point of that be?”

  “I’d get to spend more time with you.”

  “Which, as we covered, is not of benefit to you, so….” I gestured for him to get out of my way.

  “Who was that guy?”

  That came from out of the blue. I huffed. This was becoming annoying. “What guy?”

  “The guy. The pumped up guy you were talking to.”

  Pumped up? “Oh. You mean Scottie. He’s Scott McCord, a friend of mine. Actually, he’s pretty much my only friend, which I guess makes him my best friend….” A thought occurred to me. “Hey. You could hang out with Scottie. He’s a nerd, too, but—for some wacky reason—still accepted by the in crowd. Probably because the girls think he’s good looking and the guys think he’s funny.”

  “I don’t want to hang out with him. He’s not as cute as you are.”

  What? What did he say? I stared.

  “Come on. I’ll even throw in a hot dog. With ketchup. You’ve got to like hot dogs.”

  “Why? Because it’s an eternal truth or something?” I studied him. He wasn’t going to give up. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

  He pretended to shine an imaginary sheriff’s star on his very real gleaming pec. “It’s one of my better qualities.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Great.” I turned toward the snack bar. “And any idiot knows you put mustard and pickles on a hot dog, not ketchup.”

  “Yes!” He closed his fists in a sign of victory.

  “Don’t get too excited. It’s just this once. And only because I’m starving. I can’t let you ruin my sterling reputation as social pariah.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t think of it.”

  We walked through the gate to the concession area. To the right was a large, open area containing tables with umbrellas. To the left, a long counter with a menu behind it. That space was bustling with activity.

  “Do you want to grab a table and I’ll get the food?”

  I glanced around searching for an empty spot. “Sure.”

  “So, you want a hot dog with ketchup.”

  “Don’t you dare profane my dog.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Oh, right. A hot dog with MUSTARD.”

  I started to walk away.

  “You want a soda, too?”

  “Yes, thanks. That’d be great. Diet.” I continued to scope out the area. “I’ll try over there.” I pointed to the far left corner.

  He nodded
. “Okay. I’ll find you.”

  I located a table and sat, conspicuously alone. Without even food to focus on. Why was he doing this? To “get to know” me? Not likely.

  Ten minutes later I was watching him weaving through the crowd and searching for me, but didn’t wave him down. That’s when it hit me.

  He’s lonely. New kid in town. Like me, didn’t want to stick out as a lone diner.

  He caught my eye, smiled, and lifted his chin in a sign of recognition. Man, he was cute. He approached the table carrying a fully-loaded tray. Instead of sitting in the nearest chair, he crossed to sit in the chair next to me. My palms sweat. I glanced around to see if anyone was catching this. No one I knew was near. Darn. Might score me some points.

  He set a hot dog and soda in front of me and two in front of himself, along with a bag of Fritos. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He munched a couple of chips, then spun the open end of the bag toward me. “Have some.”

  “No. I’m good. Thanks.” It should have been totally awkward between us, but it wasn’t. He acted like we were old friends. I was relaxing because he was relaxed.

  He observed me while chewing thoughtfully. “So, Elise—of no French descent—tell me about yourself?”

  I fought the smile tugging at the corners of my lips. I couldn’t let him know he amused me. It’d go to his head. “What? Is this an interview now?”

  He dipped his chin. “More like an interrogation. I like to get to know all the girls who run into me.”

  “I didn’t actually run into you. More like—”

  “Tell me about yourself,” he said sternly.

  I narrowed my eyes at him, sucking on my straw, but answered when I finished drinking. “Not much to know.” I spread my arms out and shrugged my shoulders. I could see he was about to object, so I jumped in first. “I’ll be a junior at Lincoln Southwest in the fall.”

  “Me, too,” he interrupted with enthusiasm. “Go on.”

  “Uhh…I like to read….play the violin.” It struck me I was sounding like a personal ad. “I like pina coladas, getting caught in the rain, and the feel of the ocean, and the taste of champagne.” I regretted it the moment it came out of my mouth. I always got strange looks when I quoted random song lyrics. I blame my mother.

  “Rupert Holmes.”

  He knows who sings that song?

  I nodded, impressed despite myself.

  That was a definite plus in my family. Not that he would ever meet my family. “Nice. Your turn to answer questions,” I diverted. I didn’t like talking about myself.

  He frowned. “All you’ve really told me is you like to read—which I do, too. We’ll have to compare notes later—and you play the violin, which is totally cool, by the way.”

  I scrunched my nose. “In whose book? I usually get ribbed whenever someone finds out I play the violin.”

  “Oh, no. I love violin. Especially in rock music. It just…kinda…cranks up the emotion. I don’t think there is any other instrument which can excite you or rip your heart out in the same way a violin can.”

  Although I never said anything to anyone, that’s exactly why I liked it, too.

  “Have you lived here all your life?” he prodded.

  “Hell, no.” He laughed and I took another bite of hotdog before saying, “I’m from Bloomington, Illinois. We moved here a couple of years ago.” A wave of unease washed through me as I thought about why we moved. It was because a couple of girls hassled me at my old school. They heard about my dad cheating on my mom. Ironic thing was, changing schools didn’t help anything. Only now the bullies had different faces and school colors.

  He jostled me with his elbow. “So you’re pretty much a new kid, too. It’s hard, isn’t it?”

  I didn’t hesitate to respond. “You can say that again.” I gazed into his eyes—kind eyes—and had to look away because I suddenly was teary. It was good to have someone understand me. Someone outside my family. Besides Scott and his sister Zoe, who I considered family anyway.

  He slapped his hand on the table, leaning toward me over his empty hotdog container aggressively. “Tell me three odd things about yourself.”

  “Odd things?”

  He nodded.

  Everything about me was odd. Where to start. “My mom is a lunch lady.”

  “Totally cool.”

  “And my stepdad’s an NHL referee.”

  “No way.”

  The thought of Kyle made me smile. “Yup. They met at a Chase Hatton concert.”

  “I love Chase Hatton. My mom listens to him all the time.”

  “Well—and this is my third odd fact, by the way—we know someone who roadied for Chase.”

  “That’s awesome. Could he score us tickets?”

  Us? “Isn’t that kind of premature? We hardly know each other.”

  He hopped up. “Yeah, but I believe we’ll get along well. Want an ice cream cone?”

  He was more energetic than I was. More like the old me, before life broke me. “What? Do you get a super discount or do you always eat this much?”

  “I get hungry when I work.” He waited expectantly raising his eyebrows. “Cone?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sure.”

  “I’ll be right back.” He started to walk away but only got a few feet before turning to say. “Don’t you go anywhere.” He pointed at me.

  I chuckled and lifted my hands, palms toward him. “I won’t. I won’t.”

  He left and I sighed. On top of being hunkerific, he was a nice guy. Then I thought about school in the fall. I lowered my head and stared at the concrete tabletop. I would just be a summer memory. He’d be strutting all over the place, surrounded by friends, and I’d be alone again.

  Oh, well. At least we have one summer of friendship.

  I cheered myself with that thought until a shadow crossed my table and, thinking it was him, I lifted my gaze.

  “Well, if it isn’t little Elly.”

  It was my main aggressor from a few years ago. She beat the crap out of Zoe when Zoe came to my rescue. Charges were filed and she was suspended and, in short, I hadn’t had to worry about her for a long time. With her was one of the girls who was part of the group who jumped Zoe, and two new cronies. She always hung around with three people. Was there a magic about having three I was unaware of?

  While she knew my name, I’d never learned hers. I had a flash image of her bashing my skull open on the table. They hit Zoe with padlocks in their fists. They were hard core. I surveyed the area. There were too many witnesses, weren’t there? Then again, they did it in front of a whole school of students the last time. My throat was painfully dry. Some noises came out of my mouth that were supposed to be words.

  “Look at her,” she mocked. She leaned forward, the knuckles from her fisted hands poised on the tabletop. “Not quite as tough without Zoe McCord by your side, are you?”

  I still could find nothing to say. What does one say to that? Please don’t beat the crap out of me?

  She crossed to my side of the table, and all I could do was turn my body to face her. I guess I wanted to see it coming when it came. She grabbed my left biceps muscle, squeezing and digging her nails into my flesh. She gave me one, hard shake. “You know what I’ve been doing while you and Zoe waltzed around enjoying your damn freedom? Huh?” She jerked on my arm so hard I thought my teeth would fall out. I shook my head, because that seemed to be the answer she wanted, but I knew where she had been. She spoke through clenched teeth. “I’ve been locked away in juvie or out on the side of roads dealing with other people’s damned trash on some stupid work release program the courts invented.” She yanked me closer and her voice was low and lethal. “I’ve been picking up used condoms while you’ve been livin’ the life out here.”

  “Tanya,” someone hissed, tapping her on the shoulder. So she had a name. Her friend jerked her thumb toward the fence separating the pool area from the snack bar. Mr. Haggerty—God bless the man—was walking among the tables.

/>   Tanya seemed to calculate whether she thought he was a threat or not. She released me and shoved me at the same time. But she wasn’t done. “Yeah. I’m eating…dog food and Zoe gets off clean all because her lawyer daddy, in his six-hundred-dollar suits—” I almost laughed, which would be like volunteering for lethal injection. Mr. McCord was about the stingiest guy I knew. He nearly had a heart attack when Zoe brought home a seventy-dollar dress for prom she got from a clearance rack. Tanya grabbed the sides of my face and squeezed me until I had to resemble a fish. “What’s so funny?”

  Shit! Am I smiling?

  “You ain’t gonna be smiling when I take a blade you, you little—”

  The other girl jostled her. “Tanya. Come on. Let’s go. We don’t need to get into any more trouble. We’ll get her later.”

  Reluctantly she stood and they left. Beyond them Hunter was approaching with two dripping ice cream cones. I crossed my arms on the table and laid my head on them, trying to collect myself. I would either pee my pants or unload my hotdog on the table, and I couldn’t stop shaking.

  “Who were those girls?”

  I straightened slowly. Hunter stood at the other side of the table watching the foursome as they thundered through the gate, leaving the snack bar.

  “Nobody,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

  He swiveled around to study me. “Hmm. Well, I hope you’ll trust me enough to tell me the truth about that at some point.” He offered the ice cream cone to me and I took it, but my stomach revolted.

  “Uhh…” I could barely get enough air into my lungs to speak. “Hunter, I’m sorry. I know I told you I wanted a cone, but I’m…queasy now. I have to go. I’m sorry. I’ll pay you back.” I started to rise, but he held onto my arm.

  “I know you have to go, but could you just take a second, please?” He spoke quietly, with the steadiness I lacked. “You don’t look good. Let’s do some breathing until your color returns.”

  I shoved the cone at him and lowered myself into my chair, slapping a hand to my forehead. “Okay.”

  “Hunter Reynolds, report to the pool.”

  My gaze darted to him. “Are you supposed to be working?”