“I’ll do what I want!” She turns away and stomps her way up the stairs.
“…A line-drive hit toward centerfield…” the TV blares, shaking my thoughts away from the evil girl.
It’s around the fifth inning when I hear, “AGHHHH! What the…Caleb! I’m going kill you!”
Chapter 11
Skylar
“…Stop making a mess, stop making it worse, stop living a lie to kill the curse…” My phone sings to me. I roll over and look down at the ground. The screen has white bubble numbers reflecting back at me that read five thirty. “Oh God, it’s Monday.” I pull the covers over my head and squeeze my eyes shut. Why couldn’t someone have invented time travel by now?
Inhaling deeply, I open my eyes and somehow manage to get myself out of bed. I’ve got to take my shower now, before that scab sabotages it. Slowly, I make my way across the hall and into the empty bathroom.
Once I finish with my shower, I head back to my room. The only company I expect to have is a bunch of boxes, not a smirking Caleb spread across my mattress toying with my iPod. “For the love of Jesus, must you start ruining my day this early in the morning?”
Caleb drops my iPod and his eyes trail my body. I tighten my grip on the towel as a burn settles on my cheeks. The nerve of him eyeing me up like this, what a pig. I roll my eyes in annoyance. “Did you need something?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know,” he mutters.
“Well, could you leave? I’m kind of in the middle of something, and the eye-screwing thing you’re doing to me from my bed is really disgusting.”
Caleb snorts. “Please. You’d be the last person I’d eye fuck. I was just making sure our arrangement is still on.”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t worry, you’d be the last person I’d ever socialize with in public. As far as knowing Brian and talking to him at school, that won’t be a problem either. Now, get out so I can get dressed.”
“In a second.” He pushes himself off my bed and walks toward the door, which happens to be where I am. His eyes wander again, starting from my feet and stopping at my lips for a fraction of a second too long if you ask me. God, he’s so close. I can see the tiny flecks of gold in his green eyes. I blink and he smiles. “So, I wanna call a truce, you know, for what I did yesterday.”
Ha! As if I could forget what he did to me. There’s no way I’m stooping to a truce with him. “I don’t think so. I plan on getting you back. How, you’ll just have to see. It might be today, tomorrow, might be at the end of the week.” Wait, what am I saying? Am I going to be here for a week? God, I hope not.
He cocks his head and laughs. “Really, Fletch? You actually think you can out-prank me? Fine. Give it your best shot.”
“I see something in your future, Morgan…tears!”
He laughs. “From you.” And exits my room.
Chapter 12
Caleb
“Liv, you are both going to the same place, and I wanted to get new tires on your car today,” Erin says.
“I’ve got to work though. He won’t take me.” She’s got that right. There’s no way I’m going to taxi her ass to work. I’ve got practice after school. And I’ll be damned if I let any chick drive my car, let alone Skylar.
“It’s already done. Your car is already at the shop. If you can’t call off, take a cab to work.”
I watch Skylar’s face burn crimson, and then she turns on her heels. “I should have moved in with Dad!” Then she stomps out of the house. I want to laugh but Erin looks as if she’s about to cry.
I slip out the door before anyone spills any tears, or says anything to me.
Skylar stands beside my car, arms folded, and glaring at the ground. Unlocking the car, I slide into the front seat and wait for her to get into the car.
I start the engine, ready to leave her, when the passenger door flies open. Skylar swings her long legs into my car. My top weakness: legs, right alongside eyes, smiles, and wits, so I can’t help but stare. Damn Bulldog is way too hot for her own good. A sweet scent of marmalade wafts off her and bombards me. Now all I smell is her. Great.
“I’m going to drop you off at the last stop sign before the parking lot. Think you can manage walking to the school steps without getting your ass kicked?” I don’t know why I’m even asking. From what she did to my balls the other day I’m sure she can handle herself.
Her burnt-orange eyes look at me for a second then she turns away with a mumble. “Do what you want.”
“I always do, thanks, but it’s still nice to ask. My parents taught me some things…” I trail off. Only a few people know about my parents. I’m certain Brian hasn’t given Erin the full story of why I stay with him. I don’t need the pity from anyone, especially Skylar Fletcher.
Her eyes are on me. To avoid any more of this conversation, I put the car in drive, mentally cursing myself for even mentioning it in the first place. “That’s fine,” she whispers.
I glance over at her; her eyes are facing the passenger window. Shock waves over me, because her being silent and not asking about my parents is something I didn’t expect. Another strange feeling plagues me, a slight twinge. Why it happens, I can’t explain. But I don’t like it.
Pulling up to the last stop sign, I let my car idle, while Skylar exits the car. “Well, don’t get your ass kicked.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s so touching.” Her hand lets go of the door and it swings closed.
***
Making my way to third period, I bump into Derrick. “Hey, man. I haven’t seen you all day. Did Olivia come with you?”
“Umm…what?” I say in a full-out stammer.
Derrick looks at me, his eyebrows raised while his mouth forms this half scowl. “You okay?”
I shake my head. “Fine.” My eyes wander off and focus on a figure down the hall, two classrooms away from where I stand. Skylar. Her head is down, thick dark hair curtains her face, but a group of girls from the swim team stalk not far behind her screaming, “Get the hell outta here, Bulldog!” Along with, “That’s right, you better keep walking, you’re in our territory now, Fletcher! No one’s gonna protect you over here!”
Damn. I knew this would happen, but I was counting on it occurring at lunchtime, not right now.
“Hold up, did they just…” Derrick starts but I won’t let him finish.
“The bell’s about to ring,” I say and hurry toward class.
Amber Ortiz presses her hand on one of Skylar’s shoulders and turns her to face them. Skylar looks up, just before I reach the group. I swear she’s daring them to hit her. Not with words, but the way her head is held high.
“Hey, Amber!” I yell, running over to her. Skylar doesn’t even look over at me. She keeps her eyes on Amber.
Amber glances over at me and says, “Morgan, what do you want from me now? I already gave you some loving a few weeks ago. Coming back for more?”
Flashing a smile, I answer, “Oh yes, I couldn’t stay away.”
Amber squares herself toward me. I don’t want to break the eye contact. So as much as I want to check on Skylar my eyes stay on Amber’s deep brown gaze. Her mouth starts to turn up at the corners into a dazzling smile. The same one that made me notice her last year, and three months ago, and then again a few weeks ago. Yes, Amber is like salt on wounds. Burns like hell, but keep pouring it on to rid away infection. She seems to know it too. Her tongue clicks against her teeth and then she pouts her lips.
She leans in and whispers, “This weekend. My place, eight o’clock. I’ll be waiting.”
“All right.”
She blows a kiss and starts to walk off. The bell rings overhead, and I dart into civics. Skylar is sitting in the back near the windows. I don’t know why, but my feet carry me to the back. She glances up at the dry-erase board then back down at the notebook on her desk while her hand writes vigorously. I slide into the seat right in front of hers.
“Seriously?” she growls.
“You’re welcome.”
“For being nice. I don’t like it. I don’t trust you, and whatever crap you got up your sleeve, I’m not falling for it. So drop the nice act and get to it. What’s the real agenda here?”
I can’t say I’m surprised that she’s asking me this. She’s not stupid. Anyone can tell that from looking at her class schedule. “I’d love to chat about this now but this will have to wait until dinnertime,” I whisper.
“You do that.”
Our teacher Mr. Munzo slaps the board with a long pointer and says, “Class, as you all know, this is Civics 101. Today we’re going to be covering the topics written on the board. Please open the book that is already on your desk to the inside cover. Write your name in the margin. When I call your name, read off the number marked in red at the top, left-hand corner. Once we have this all done, turn to page thirty-five and start reading the chapter.”
Chapter 13
Skylar
Mr. Munzo calls out names, and numbers are rattled off one by one from all over the room. The class seems to talk amongst themselves, not really caring what name is next on the list. That is, until he says, “Skylar Fletcher?”
Silence. Dead silence.
If a pin dropped you’d hear the clang bounce off all four walls. Everyone except Caleb scans the room as Mr. Munzo repeats my name. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and let my voice carry, “Eleven.”
“Thank you. Moving on. Ryan Granger?”
It’s been like this all morning. Every class, a teacher calls my name and the entire class turns from talking in muffled tones to dead silence. I wish this day would hurry up and be over with already.
Keeping my eyes closed, I try to imagine the rest of the room. People are probably glaring at me. Readying themselves to toss things at me, or trip me if I move from my seat like the last two classes before this one. And even though I hate it, I keep telling myself this would be happening to them if they were at Harris Academy.
Releasing a bit of air I’ve been holding onto, I hear Caleb’s voice call out, “Fifteen.” I open my eyes, expecting to see the back of his head, but it’s his green eyes that greet me. I blink and look down at my used book.
He makes a sound close to a snort.
Jerk!
I wish this uncomfortable feeling creeping up on me would go away. And I really hate feeling like I owe Caleb some sort of favor for his help earlier in the hallway. Not that I really needed it. That stupid Amber. Pshh. She’s just jealous because I could swim laps around her in the pool. And as for the softball field, well, I could outplay her with one arm tied behind my back. What’s completely sick is the fact Caleb hooked up with that troll. I can’t believe that’s his type…Ewww! Wait, what am I saying? I don’t care who he dates.
Snap out of it! He’s an ape, and a complete jerk. More to the point, he’s a Bobcat!
“Class, you may begin to read silently.”
Shifting in my seat, I start to read the assigned pages. While reading about mob rule, and the reason for it, my attention strays to the oncoming wad of paper flying toward my face. My body reacts quickly, catching the paper before it hits me in the nose. Someone in class mutters a swear word. I don’t bother looking for the person. This has been happening to me all morning, why would it stop now?
I glance up at the black clock mocking me on the wall, and catch a glimpse of Caleb eyeing me. “What?” I groan.
“Nice snag, Fletcher.”
I glare at him. “Stop doing that.”
He leans in so close; a light hint of mint comes off his breath. I can smell his cologne, a mix of cinnamon and cedar wafting off him. It’s so inviting, wonderful, and yet, it’s scary and sickening how much I like smelling him. Get a hold of yourself, he’s the enemy! “Doing what?” he whispers.
“Nothing. Forget it.” Why won’t he just ignore me like he said he would?
I revert my attention back to the reading assignment. However, I don’t get much reading done since the rest of the class decides to throw more things at me. Pen caps, erasers, licked candy, chewed gum, and the teacher seems to be blind to it all. I use my book as a shield, while my frustration builds. For the past two classes, I’ve controlled my emotions and didn’t say a word about the attacks, but my control is slipping. I won’t be able to handle much more of this.
Pretending to read, I notice the boy closest to Caleb starts to stand. Snickers fill the room. The boy leans toward Caleb with an open bottle of red Gatorade. Now, I’m not a mind reader, but I know this boy is planning on pouring that drink on me and claiming it to be an accident. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let these Bobcats do this to me, and then laugh about it.
Patiently waiting for the moment of the boy’s attack, I take a deep breath, and then slowly shift my position in my seat. I continue to pretend to be reading, but notice the boy inching himself closer to me. As his hand starts to rise, I snatch it and force his hand backwards. He yelps in pain, and his entire drink pours all over himself.
The entire class turns from giggles to an uproar of angry shouts. I continue to glare at the boy, though, and release his arm with a force that makes him stumble back into the row of desks behind him. Mr. Munzo yells, “Miss Fletcher! Gather up your things, we’re going to the principal’s office this instant.”
“Fine with me.” I don’t even care how this looks. Defending yourself isn’t a crime, but maybe this is what I need for my mother to see what a mistake this little move of hers is. Snatching up my things and heading toward the front of the class, I can feel everyone in the room monitoring my every step. I don’t look at any of them; my focus is on the door, which is held open by Mr. Munzo.
Mr. Munzo stops at the room next to his and taps on the door. A woman with long blond hair steps out into the hall. I instantly recognize her. Mrs. Walker. She was my science teacher in middle school. I gasp, but look at the floor when her eyes scan over to me. “What’s going on, Fred?”
“Sarah, can you pop in and watch my class for a few minutes? I’ve got to take this one to the office.”
“Fletcher, right?”
I don’t know if she’s talking to him or me. I’m not answering her if she is talking to me.
“Yes, Miss Fletcher here thought she’d disrupt my class by dumping her drink all over Mr. Buckner.”
Wow. So I’m the hoodlum here? Fantastic. To think my friends would’ve been so proud of what I did. A pain fills my heart just thinking about them. I’d give anything to text them what I did my first day in hell. Sadly, I know they won’t respond. They’ve already banished my existence, at least that’s what they said they’d do.
“I’ll take her down for you, Fred. This is my free period.”
I notice her classroom is full of empty desks.
“If you insist. Thank you.”
Mr. Munzo left us. The awkward silence between Mrs. Walker and I grew. “Skylar, come on in and take a seat.”
I raise my head, meeting her gaze, and ask, “What?”
“Sit.” I do as she says and take the seat closest to the door. She gives me a thousand-watt smile. “Skylar, I’m quite shocked to see you here.”
Take a number. “It wasn’t my idea.”
“I see. So, would you like to tell me what happened?”
I’m not sure what she’s implying by this vague question. Does she want to know about what happened in the classroom? Or is she asking about my life, and the reason behind this transfer? I shrug. “That’s a vague question.”
She frowns. “Ohhh-kay. I can see you haven’t changed much.”
What’s that suppose to mean? “I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Walker straightens her pencil skirt and paces the space between the desk and dry-erase board. “
It wasn’t meant to be offensive, I just forgot you want specific questions in order to give correct answers.” She pauses for a second and then sighs. “Why are you here in this school?”
I swallow hard. “My mom’s love life brought us here. As for what happened in Mr. Munzo’s class…well, the other students still see me as a Bulldog, and would probably kill me if they could. That boy tried to pour his drink on me. I just got it on him first. So, why are you here? Didn’t like our school system?”
She smiles. “My husband moved his business to this section of town. The teaching position I’ve always wanted opened up over here, so I took it. End of story.”
“Mr. Munzo didn’t look like he was going to spit in your coffee and key your car during lunch,” I say with a shrug.
She laughs. “No. Then again, I’m not well-known like you are. Come on. We have to go see the principal. Don’t worry, I’ll put in a good word for you. The most you might get for misbehavior is an hour’s worth of detention which, luck would have it, I’ve been assigned after school.”
Great. An ex-teacher, her ex-student, and a room full of misfits. What more could I ask for?
Chapter 14
Caleb
World Literature started a good twenty minutes before Skylar decides to waltz into the classroom. The girls in the first two rows actually shut up and stare in silence. Our teacher, Ms. Norris, hands Skylar a paper and a book then tells her to go find a desk.
The girls don’t start whispering again until after Skylar makes her way past their row. “Oh no, she isn’t. What the hell is she even doing here?” Ceria asks in a booming voice.
“I know. You’re on the wrong side of the tracks, Bulldog,” Laura chimes in.
Rival Love Page 5