by M. H. Soars
I choose my clothes carefully this morning, something that will reflect my awesome mood—my favorite black leather skirt, a snug V-neck top, and tall high-heeled boots. Larissa calls it my Buffy outfit, all I’m missing is a wooden stake and Angel lurking nearby. I’d gladly forgo the stake if I could keep Angel. I sigh. Keep dreaming, Kimberly.
My small act of revenge didn’t change the dynamics at school. I won’t deny I was secretly hoping for some kind of silent cheering, a nod from my fellow students for challenging the status quo. But the inevitable glances I receive as I walk down the hallway are not the encouraging type, more like the opposite. The disapproving stares I get would intimidate anyone, but not me. I raise my chin even higher. Glower all you want, sheep. I’m not afraid of your judgmental gossip.
I was naive for wishing for a different outcome, though. Owen Whitfield is one of the most popular guys in school, thanks to his letterman jacket and Abercrombie & Fitch looks. Okay, he has charisma going for him, too. I’m one of the few who never drank his Kool-Aid.
I stop by my locker to retrieve the books for my next class when Larissa stops next to me. “Girlfriend, you’re the talk of school this morning.”
“Please.”
“Apparently, you and Owen hooked up, and when he didn’t call you back, you went psycho on him.”
I whirl on her. “What?!”
“Yep, the word on the street is that you’re another notch in Owen’s belt.”
I let the news sink in. Am I surprised that the rumor mill created its own account of what happened yesterday? No. I should have known my actions would come back to bite me in the ass. That’s life in high school for you. I swallow my annoyance to the best of my ability and put on a fake smile.
“Let them say whatever they want. I don’t care.”
“Are you sure about that?” Larissa stares at me hard. She knows me too well.
“Let’s change the subject, shall we?”
She shrugs. “Whatever you say, Kimmy.”
“Hey, lover boy is here.” The difference in my friend’s tone says it all. She’s referring to Ross. They don’t see eye to eye most of the time, mainly because Larissa thinks he’s a bore and I could do so much better.
“Hey,” I say, but he just stares at me like I’ve sprouted a second head. “What?”
“Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“Don’t play games with me, Kimmy. Did you hook up with Owen Whitfield?”
My jaw drops and my mind has a hard time processing his question. I can’t believe he’s buying into school gossip. We’re talking about Owen here, not Jensen Ackles for crying out loud. I honestly thought Ross was immune to nonsense rumors.
“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.” I walk around him and head to Chemistry class. I sense Ross is right behind me.
“Kimmy, wait.”
“Leave me alone, Ross.”
“I’m sorry, okay?”
I stop and let him catch up with me. “You better be sorry.”
Ross moves closer and touches my arm. The school has a strict no PDA policy, so I know that’s as far as Ross will dare go. He’s a stick-by-the-rules kind of guy. Boring? Yes. But I’d rather have a boring boyfriend with brains, than a train wreck with zero respect for anything. Owen’s image springs into my mind and my irritation escalates. Ugh! Why does he keep popping into my head?
“I’ll make it up to you tonight. My parents are out of town.”
Oh, boy. That sounds like fun times. Not. I smile at Ross, but it’s forced. Despite his efforts, an evening alone with him has lost its appeal. I have more fun by myself these days. I know Larissa is right, I can do better than him. But for now, I’ll keep Ross, if only to avoid the drama of a breakup.
“I can’t tonight.”
His eager expression falls and before he can ask me why I say, “I gotta go.”
I’m almost at my destination when Mr. Prescott spots me in the hallway and stops me. “Ah, Miss Dawson, exactly who I was looking for.”
“Mr. Prescott, how can I help you?”
“I would like to have word with you in my office.”
Apprehension takes hold of me. I follow our principal, wondering what’s so important that it couldn’t wait. Did Owen complain about the spaghetti incident? Boy, if he did, he totally went from douchebag to whiny brat.
Mr. Prescott closes the door behind me and asks me to take a seat. I wait for him to do the same and then he cuts right to the chase.
“I thought I had made myself clear when I said I didn’t want a single word written about what happened yesterday.”
“With all due respect, Sir, I’m not following.”
“Cut the bullcrap, Miss Dawson. It’s not even nine o’clock yet and I’ve been fending off phone calls from angry parents and several board members who read the article published online on the Littleton News website.”
I fake innocence. “What article?”
“The one you wrote.”
I open my mouth, but Mr. Prescott raises his hand. “Don’t even try to deny it. You’re not the only one with connections at the local newspaper. I know it was you who wrote the article they published this morning. Your connection was quick to supply your name when he was threatened to be fired if he didn’t cooperate.”
That little piece of shit. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him. But he was the only real connection I made at the paper when I interned there last summer.
There’s no point in denying anything now. “So, what’s my punishment?”
“A week of detention and you’re no longer part of the school’s newspaper.”
“But that’s not fair. Technically, I didn’t break any rules. You told me not to publish an article here, but you never said I couldn’t write for another publication.”
“Details, Miss Dawson. You knew very well what you were doing was wrong, otherwise you would have penned that article yourself. That would have been a hell of an accomplishment to add to your college application. Unfortunately, all your rebellious act did was leave a dark smear in your permanent records.”
I have to concede that he’s right. I should have never underestimated Mr. Prescott. I stand up. “Am I dismissed? I’d hate to receive a tardy on top of everything else.”
“Yes, you may go, Miss Dawson. Please pick up your detention schedule with my assistant on your way out.”
Chapter 5
Kimberly
Mr. Prescott is really trying to screw me over. Son of a bitch. I have to attend detention right smack in the middle of the school day, during the free periods I have on my week’s calendar. I have an extremely heavy school load and I need every bit of free time to finish homework, catch up on reading, etc. I have no idea what students do during detention as I’ve never been sent to one.
The worst blow is, of course, Mr. Prescott taking away my gig at the school paper. But if he thinks I’m going to accept that without a fight, he’s sorely mistaken. Technically, I did not infringe on any school rules. I need to find a solution to my problem without involving my parents, though. If they find out I got detention, they will flip. Luckily, gone are the days when the school’s administration called student’s parents to let them know their kids were in trouble.
I clutch the pink slip with the classroom number where detention takes place, and walk as fast as I can to my destination. The teacher on duty is Mrs. Morgendorffer, one of the oldest teachers in the school district, someone who should have retired eons ago. I wonder if by assigning the sweet old lady to oversee detention, Mr. Prescott is subtly attempting to make her retire. After what he pulled this morning, I’m finally seeing our principal for what he really is, a petty, evil man.
I scan the classroom and find the usual suspects there, known troublemakers who probably spend more time in detention than anywhere else. L
orenzo, Larissa’s cousin is also there. Am I surprised to see him? Not really. I wouldn’t classify him as a bad seed, but he has a temper and no filter.
He spots me by the door and his expression of surprise is priceless. It takes only a few seconds for him to recover, and a slow grin unfurls on his lips. He points at me, then at the seat next to his. I don’t know him well, but having him as a companion will probably make the hour go by faster. I cross the room quickly without making eye contact with anyone else.
“Well, well, look who we have here,” he says as I sit down.
“Don’t start,” I reply.
“What has brought Miss Perfect to detention? Are you writing an article about the poor, subhuman conditions us lowly citizens must endure?”
“You’re suffering, clearly.” I point at Mrs. Morgendorffer, who is presently more interested in reading her gossip magazine than paying attention to any of us.
“Wait until she eats her morning snack.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m intrigued. Care to share what happens then?”
“Nah, I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”
“Yo, Lorenzo. Are you going to introduce your new friend to the rest of us?” A guy as pale as the walls and skinny enough to be in a Zoolander movie leers at me, making my spine go rigid. I don’t recognize him, but in a school this size, it’s no surprise.
“Back off, Bernard.”
The creepy guy sneers. “I didn’t know you were into Owen’s leftovers.”
How long will people refer to me as Owen’s castoff? I’m tired of it already. I’ve got the reputation and I didn’t even reap the benefits. Whoa! Where did that thought come from? I do not want to sleep with Owen. Ever. Ugh. Somehow, the blond baboon has gotten under my skin.
I open my mouth to defend myself, but Lorenzo’s hand on my arm makes me pause. He replies. “You better watch what you say, dude. You don’t want to end up like your old man with his tongue cut off.”
Lorenzo’s words give me goose bumps, but they must mean something to Bernard, because he shuts his face, leaving me alone, for now at least.
Lorenzo turns to me. “Ignore Bernard. He’s a sociopath with daddy issues.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
Lorenzo chuckles. “I guess not. But at least you know to give him a wide berth now.”
“Duly noted. So, what got you here this time?”
Lorenzo leans back and raises an eyebrow at me. “This time? What makes you think I’ve been here more than once?”
“You, like a minute ago.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, I may have called the illustrious football team captain by a very bad name and unfortunately, there were several teachers nearby.”
“And what did Alex Martin do to deserve such treatment?”
Lorenzo’s easy going demeanor darkens and he faces forward. “I’d rather not say.”
“Okay, then.”
“What about you? Did your stunt at the cafeteria yesterday get you here? I gotta say, that took some balls.”
“Balls? I hate when people confuse courage with the ownership of balls. Vaginas are way tougher. Maybe the expression should be grow a vagina, not grow a pair.”
“Jesus. Are you going to pull some PC feminist crap on me? I was giving you a compliment.”
I sigh loudly. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“So, did Owen complain about you?”
“No. I did something to piss off Mr. Prescott.”
“You? Really?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
Lorenzo raises his hand and begins to count off my accomplishments with his fingers. “You’re an honor student, I never see you at any parties, and you date the most boring guy in school. Should I continue?”
“You seem to know a lot about me.”
Lorenzo shrugs. “You have a reputation, babe.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What kind of reputation?”
“Well, before the show you put on yesterday, you were referred to as Ice Queen and Frigid Kim.”
“What?!”
My statement is too loud and Mrs. Morgendorffer raises her head to see who is disrupting her reading.
“No talking during detention,” she says, then goes back to her magazine.
I lean closer to Lorenzo and whisper to him. “You’re lying. I’ve never heard anyone call me by those names before.”
“I’m not lying. Ask Larissa. You smell good, by the way.” Lorenzo takes a long whiff of my neck and I back away from him quickly.
“Don’t do that.”
“I thought you were coming on to me.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Right.”
He smirks and then shrugs. “Can’t blame me for trying. I never pegged you to be into jocks, Kimmy.”
“For fuck’s sake. I’m not into jocks. I didn’t sleep with Owen.”
Lorenzo raises his hands. “Okay, okay. I believe you.”
I need to change the subject fast, otherwise I will end up believing I hooked up with Owen, too. Why does everything that happens in this school have to be related to sex?
“So, what happens when Mrs. Morgendorffer eats her snack?” I realize I already asked that question, but I can’t think of anything else.
Lorenzo nods in her direction. “You’re about to find out.”
I glance ahead and catch our chaperone eating the last piece of her cereal bar. Two minutes later, her head is on the desk and she’s snoring like a drunken sailor.
I turn to Lorenzo. “Does she fall asleep every time?”
“Yup.”
I hear chairs scrape against the linoleum floor and desks being moved. I glance around and find the entire room is in motion. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Scrooge time, babe.”
“What the heck is that?”
“It’s a card game.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s like Solitaire, but played in a group.”
“I thought the whole point of Solitaire is that you don’t need people. Hence, the name.”
“Yeah, yeah, Miss Smarty Pants. Get your butt out of that chair and come join the fun.”
All of the desks have been clustered into the center of the room, creating a big table. Twelve pairs of eyes are on me, including Creepy Bernard’s. I’m delaying the fun. There’s no reason I shouldn’t play a harmless game, right?
“Sure, why not.”
Chapter 6
Owen
Leah and I broke up again last night thanks to Kimberly’s ‘payback’. Payback for what I’m still trying to figure out. In the aftermath of Leah coming to my house to scream at me and end things for good—according to her—I’ve received exactly fifty-three text messages in the span of an hour. They were a variation of congratulatory, question marks, and propositions. And they were all related to Kimberly Dawson. Apparently, not only Leah thought I’d hooked up with the girl, but the entire school.
Guys who wanted to be my best buddies congratulated me, my real best friends asked if I was crazy, and dirty text messages came from girls I didn’t even know. I only bothered to reply to Brad and Steve, denying the whole thing, of course.
This morning, my alleged hook up with Kimberly was still on the tips of everyone’s tongues. If she hated me as much as she has led me to believe, then these rumors must be driving her batshit crazy. Best revenge ever, and I didn’t even have to do a thing. Karma is a bitch.
I’m used to people staring at me, but today, there was a difference in those looks. Good Lord, one would think I hooked up with Evangeline Lilly. What’s so special about Kimberly anyway, besides her bitchiness? My friends gave me shit for it all morning, saying that my celebrity status shot through the roof just because I nailed the Ice Queen. I got tired of r
epeating that nothing had happened between us. I’m not one to brag about something I didn’t do.
I can’t wait for this day to be over. One more class and I’m outta here. Good thing I have Advanced English now, something I actually enjoy. I high-five a couple of freshmen who are lingering in front of the classroom before crossing through the doorway. I freeze mid step as my gaze collides with Kimberly’s. Fuck! I had forgotten we had this class together. Her baby blue eyes are glacial and I feel her death stare deep down in my bones. Jesus, this girl is intense.
My gaze lands on the seat next to hers and I realize that’s my seat. I had forgotten about that too. I can’t believe I didn’t notice she was my neighbor when school started last week. Now that she finally has my attention, I can’t get over how stunning she is. She possesses a cold beauty that hurts if you stare at it too long. Or maybe it’s just the daggers she’s shooting at me with her eyes.
I realize I’ve been staring at her for too long without moving. I put on a cocky grin and walk to my seat with all the swagger I’ve got. Her gaze holds until I stop next to her, and her delicate eyebrows scrunch together. I take my time putting my backpack down on the floor and taking my seat.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hisses at me.
“What does it look like?”
“You’re not going to sit there.”
“Sorry, honey. This is my seat. Don’t like the company? Move.”
Kimberly looks around and realizes there are no open seats left. I already knew that. She retrieves her laptop from her bag, turns it on, and looks straight ahead. I keep on staring at her like she’s some kind of fairy who put a spell on me. She gets a hand full of her luscious hair and begins to braid it to the side, giving me a perfect view of the delicate curve of her neck. Her alabaster skin looks so smooth and soft, I wonder what would it taste like. My dick springs to life, and I come to my senses. I’m fantasizing about Kimberly Dawson, the Ice Queen. I must have lost my mind. I send a silent message to my crotch, “down boy”, as I try to find a more comfortable position.
Our English teacher comes in, and his presence is enough to kill any filthy thought I have in my mind. For once, I decide to pay attention to class and after ten minutes into it, I’m almost able to forget Kimberly’s presence.