The Queen B* and the Homecoming King

by Crista McHugh

  “No, thank God. Apparently, Gavin has a rep for date rape, and one of his frat brothers was friends with Brett and called him when he saw me with Gavin. Brett showed up just in time and gave Gavin a black eye and apparently a few broken ribs.” And he would’ve given him more if Josh hadn’t intervened.

  “Sounds like he deserved it, and that explains why you forgave Brett for making out with Summer.”

  “But that’s the thing—Brett never did make out with Summer. She tried to jump his bones the same way Gavin did me, and Brett chewed her out for it.” He chewed her out for more than just that. She’d also lied to him, twisting the story of how our friendship had ended so that she was the victim and I was the one exposing her secrets. Who knew how long he’d believed her version of the past?

  “But back to Morgan,” I said, since setting the record straight was far more important to me than filling Richard in on my relationship with Brett. “She ran into him today and believed his spin on Saturday night and is totally on his side.”

  For the second time during our conversation, Richard’s mouth hung open in disbelief. “What?”

  “Trust me—I totally regret accepting a date with Gavin, especially with the way the evening turned out. But she wouldn’t even hear my side of the story.”

  “In her defense, all she knows is that you tried to steal her man and then he got beat up for it.”

  “But I wasn’t trying to steal him.”

  “It looks that way to her.” Richard scraped his bowl clean before asking, “So, what are you going to do now?”

  “If she would’ve just let me get a word in edgewise, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. But she jumped to the wrong conclusion, got pissed off, and was firing off at me without giving me a chance to explain.” My pulse pounded in my temples, and I was this close to calling her back and telling her off.

  “Gee, where have I seen that before?” Richard ate the last bite of his yogurt and leaned back in his seat. “Do you want me to try to talk to her and smooth things over?”

  For the first time since Morgan hung up on me, I felt relief. “Will you?”

  “I’ll do my best to get her to at least listen to you, but I’m not apologizing for you.”

  “Understood. Believe me—no one is sorrier than I am for going out with Gavin.”

  “Yeah, that was a new level of retaliation, even for you,” he replied.

  “Screw you,” I shot back.

  “You wish.” He rose from the table, his empty bowl in his hands. “Will you come to the tryout tomorrow?”

  “Of course.” I’d already pissed off one friend. I couldn’t afford to piss off the other. Besides, my gut told me that as long as the Queen B* was in the audience, Kelsey wouldn’t harass Richard.

  “Excellent. Now, time to tackle some calculus before scanning the web for current events. I want to be ready for whatever they throw at me.” He threw away his trash and gave me a hug. “Don’t worry about Morgan. I’ll give her a day to remember why she shouldn’t care about him and then set the record straight.”

  “Thanks.”

  I drove home, surprised to find my mom’s car in the garage. Since she’d started “studying” laser surgery with her new boyfriend, Pete, she rarely came home before eight. Even more shocking was the fact she was curled up on the couch in a T-shirt and yoga pants without any makeup on. True to her beauty pageant queen roots, she never went anywhere without looking perfect. The woman before me looked tired and pale, her hair pulled up in a messy ponytail.

  I hung at the edge of the room, unsure what to say. “Mom?”

  She turned away from the movie she’d been watching. “Hi, Alexis,” she replied, her voice as exhausted as the bags under her eyes implied.

  Most girls would have enough tact to sidestep the issue, but I’d never been known for biting my tongue. “What’s wrong? Did you and Pete break up or something?”

  Her brows twitched like they wanted to furrow in confusion, but the Botox kept them from moving. “What makes you say that?”

  “Besides the fact you’re home?” I left out the part where she looked like crap.

  “Oh, that.” She waved her hand and hugged a throw pillow. “I stayed home from the office today. I think I picked up a little stomach bug or something.”

  My mom was a workaholic dermatologist, so for her to give up a day’s worth of income from ironing out wrinkles and ridding the world of acne, she must’ve really felt sick. “Can I fix you some soup or anything?”

  She shook her head. “Pete’s bringing me some. Thank you, though. How was your day?”

  I could’ve mentioned my situation with Morgan, but Mom looked worn out enough as it was. No need to burden her with any more of my drama, especially considering how much I’d heaped on her over the weekend. “Fine.”

  “That’s nice.” She turned back to her movie, which was my cue that she didn’t want to talk anymore.

  I slipped up the stairs, not wanting to be present when Pete came by. The first time I’d met Pete, it was when I’d walked in on him and my mom naked on the couch. The awkward brunch a few days later had confirmed that they were an item, and I’d have to get used to seeing him around more often (preferably with clothes on). He seemed like an okay guy, and he totally appeared to be crushing on my mom, but I still wasn’t ready to roll out the welcome mat for him. It had been my mom, my sister, and me for years, and the thought of having this new person to deal with made my stomach twitch.

  Maybe I was coming down with a stomach bug, too.

  But when I got to my room and started on my homework, I kept staring at my phone, wanting to call Morgan back and take care of things myself. I dialed her number, but it rang twice before going directly to voice mail, a sure sign she’d declined my call.

  My voice shook as I said, “Morgan, please, just give me a chance to explain what really happened. I’d hate to lose our friendship over a douchebag like Gavin.”

  I hung up, but my nerves were still on edge. I’d done all I could for now, but it still wasn’t enough. So I called the next person I could talk to.

  Brett picked up at the first ring. His voice was upbeat and cheerful, something my morose mood needed. “Hey, Lexi.”

  I’d given up on trying to convince him to stop calling me that, and now, it bordered on endearing. “Hey, Brett.”

  “Something wrong?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Yeah.” I heard some muffled sounds in the background, followed by a pause. “Sorry—I was just leaving practice.”

  Ugh! I’d forgotten about that. “If it’s a bad time—”

  “No, it’s not.”

  But if he was still at school, I didn’t need to be whining about my problems with Morgan while the entire team could overhear. “Do you think we could talk when you get home?”

  Worry seeped into his voice as he asked, “You’re not changing your mind about—”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. I just… I don’t know. I just wanted to talk to you.”

  “Sure, I guess we could do that, but I need to cram for my physics test tomorrow.”

  A new wave of guilt assaulted me. “Then study. It can wait until tomorrow.”

  “Don’t forget we’re meeting by the bleachers twenty minutes before school starts. I’ll bring you that latte I promised.”

  Leave it to Brett to find a compromise. “How can I refuse?”

  “Me or the coffee?”

  “Both?” I replied with a laugh, my spirits lifting.

  “Okay, I’ll see you then.”

  Chapter Four

  A chilly fog blanketed the football field the next morning, and I didn’t see Brett until I was few feet away from him. But he was standing by the bleachers with a steaming cup of coffee and a warm smile. “Good morning.”

  I looked up at the sky. “Are you certain it’s morning? I can’t tell if the sun is up there or not.”

  He chuckled and leaned into me. “Warning—I’m a
bout to break rule number two again,” he teased before placing a kiss on my lips.

  “Watch it.” But despite my warning, I leaned into him, enjoying the warmth of his arms around me, and inhaled the scent of the coffee. Vanilla hazelnut—my favorite. “How did practice go yesterday?”

  “Well, actually. Sanchez and I watched about three hours’ worth of footage, and we came up with a couple of good crossing routes that will exploit their weakness at cornerback.”

  “In English?”

  “We’re going for the bad players on their defense.” He laced his fingers through mine and led me to the bleachers. The cold metal penetrated my jeans, but the heat from Brett’s hand chased away the chill. “So what happened yesterday?”

  I filled him in on Morgan’s call and ended with, “I feel awful, but I’m kind of lost on what to do next. I reached out to her. Richard’s going to try to reason with her, but I’m still scared she’ll never forgive me.”

  Brett didn’t say anything at first, but the way he stared off into the fog with his mouth set in a firm line told me he wasn’t ignoring my plight. He was just thinking of the right thing to say. “Can you go over to her house and try talking to her face to face?”

  “Maybe, if I can get past her slamming the door in my face. Besides, she avoids her parents as much as possible. She’s not easy to catch at home.”

  He stretched his legs out and released a deep breath. “Then wait and see what Richard can do. Having a third-party mediator is all you need sometimes. Besides, it sounds like you’re willing to do whatever it takes to save your friendship, so that means something.”

  “Yeah.” I cuddled closer to him, grateful he was willing to listen to me.

  Brett wrapped his arms around me. “Careful, Lexi. If you keep breaking rule number two, I’m going to try to convince you to break rule number three.”

  “I’m not going to Homecoming,” I said, my face still pressed against his chest. On a foggy day like today, I wasn’t too worried about people seeing us like this.

  “That’s too bad because I think you’d have a blast.”

  I peered up at him, my mouth quirked in a half-smile of disbelief. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Nope.”

  “Me, in a dress, trying to fit in with your friends and biting my tongue all evening?”

  “Don’t forget the dancing.” He swayed from side to side and hummed the banana pancake song by one of our favorite singers. “If I remember correctly, you had fun at that concert with me.”

  My skin flushed from the memory. I’d stumbled into him—literally—at a concert a couple of weeks ago and spent the rest of the night in his arms while we danced to the music. Even though we weren’t technically together at the time, it was still the best “not-date” I’d ever been on. Would dancing with him at Homecoming be like that, too?

  A distant shout followed by far-off laughter intruded upon our moment and reminded us that school was about to start. I stepped back, but Brett tightened his hold on me for a second longer.

  “Think about it,” he murmured before brushing his lips against mine once more.

  I answered with a sigh. As much as I wanted to make him happy, I knew better. He’d want to hang out with his friends, and I didn’t belong there, not after I’d called out so many of them on my blog. I’d even managed to get three of his friends suspended last week. Awkward silence would be the best outcome of the evening. The worst would be them dissing him for dating me. Hence, why I instituted the rules. They weren’t just to protect me. They were also to protect him.

  “See you in fourth period,” I said as we arrived at the front of the school and went our separate ways.

  But when I got to fourth period, Sanchez blocked the doorway with one arm stretched out to keep me from entering the room.

  “You’re becoming a major pain in my ass, Alexis,” he said, glaring down at me.

  Most people in Eastline would’ve cowered before the six-foot wide receiver, but in spite of his bravado, I was one of the few people he feared. “Want to end up on my blog again this week?”

  His arm sagged, but his face remained a stony mask of hatred. “It’s not over.”

  “It never is.” I pushed past him and went to my table in the back of the room, hoping Brett wouldn’t be too far behind. If anyone could keep Sanchez in line, it was Brett. Not that I needed Brett to protect me. It was just nice to let someone bear part of the responsibility of keeping the in-crowd in check.

  But Brett never showed up. It was the second time in less than a week that he’d missed fourth period. He wasn’t the type to skip class, and worry churned inside my chest. Where was he?

  When the bell rang, I bolted for the door with the hope I might catch him at his locker. I made it halfway there before running into Richard.

  “Oh my God, Alexis, I’m starting to have a freak-out moment.”

  One of my best friends needed me, and that took precedence over finding out where my boyfriend was. I pulled Richard out of the stream of traffic in the hallway into a nook between the lockers and a classroom whose door was covered with another Vote for Summer! poster.

  Geez, was anybody running against her?

  I shook the stupid Homecoming Queen elections from my mind and focused on Richard. “What’s going on?”

  “Last night, I tried to prep for today’s tryouts, but I had so much homework, I fell asleep on my laptop.” He rubbed his cheek. “I’m just lucky the pattern of the keys faded before I arrived at school this morning.”

  “You’ll be fine,” I said in the same soothing tone my mom used when Taylor freaked out over some fashion faux pas. “Remember how you did yesterday.”

  He grabbed my hand. “Promise me you’ll be there this afternoon.”

  Before I could answer, a male voice behind me interrupted us. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? The fag and his fag-hag.”

  I turned around to find Sanchez cracking his knuckles and flanked by his two buds who also had gotten suspended after I’d posted pics of them bullying Richard and Ajay last week. My pulse kicked up a notch. They had us cornered, and judging by the expressions on their faces, they were more than eager to extract their revenge.

  I blindly reached for my phone while maintaining eye contact with the ringleader. If I wanted to get out of this without damaging my reputation (or my body), I needed to remind him of the thing he valued above all else. “Sanchez, you and your accomplices are already in hot water for last week. Do you really want to end up benched this week for the Skylake game?”

  “She’s right,” another voice added.

  I swallowed my sigh of relief as Brett pushed through the wall of flesh Sanchez and his buddies had erected and moved between us and them. Last week, I’d challenged Brett to step up and keep his teammates in check, and now he’d risen to the occasion.

  Brett crossed his arms. “Don’t you think your time would be better spent prepping for this week’s game?”

  “I was just letting her know where she stands.” Sanchez took a step back, but his face remained as threatening as before. “See you in the film room.”

  The hard line of Brett’s shoulders didn’t ease until his teammates had disappeared into the crowd. He turned around and looked at me with one brow raised in suspicion. “What triggered that?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, but based on what he did in fourth period combined with that, I think it’s safe to say he’s still pissed off about last week.”

  Brett muttered a few cusswords under his breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry about that. I’ll talk to him this afternoon. The last thing I need is for him to get benched this week.” He nodded toward Richard. “You okay?”

  “I’m fabulous,” he replied, all traces of his earlier distress hidden behind the flamboyant façade he wore at school.

  Brett looked stressed out enough without me bringing up Sanchez’s behavior in fourth period. The message was loud and clear. I was on Sanchez’s shi
t list. But I didn’t care because he was perpetually on mine. “Where were you last period?”

  “I had a phone call from a coach.”

  Which I suspected Sanchez knew about. Hence why he thought he might be able to get away with his behavior today.

  “And they pulled you out of class for that?” Richard’s eyes were full of stars. My best friend loved football, and Brett was becoming more and more of a celebrity with every game he played and every record he shattered.

  “Yeah,” Brett replied with an indifferent shrug. “It was another SEC school. Not interested, but I still had to listen to his spiel to get my dad off my case. He’s still pressuring me to make a decision, and yet he tells me to listen to every offer I get.”

  He looked to me like he wanted to say more, but when his gaze flicked to Richard, he remembered we had an audience. “I’ll call you tonight.”

  Once he walked away, Richard wilted against the lockers. “He’s so hot.”

  I merely grinned. He was hot, and he was all mine.

  ***

  Despite his earlier panic, Richard managed once again to wow me with his debate skills. I just hoped the judges were as equally wowed. Everyone had stepped up their game on the second day, but I believed Richard’s arguments were strong enough for him to survive the first cut.

  I’d managed to finish my homework while sitting through the debate team tryouts, so when I got home, I had nothing to do other than whip something up for dinner and find a new book to read. Mom texted me to say she was staying late at work (which I translated to mean she was hooking up with Pete), and Taylor grabbed her food after cheerleading practice and carried it up to her room. In other words, it was a typical night in the Wyndham home.

  It was almost eight by the time Brett called me. Fatigue laced his voice, and a twinge of guilt curled inside my chest for keeping him on the phone when he had so much on his plate right now. But the moment he said, “Hey, Lexi,” those familiar butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

  “Long day?” I asked.

  “And it’s not over. But I wanted to let you know I had a long talk with Sanchez, Ren, and Austin, and they’ve promised to be on their best behavior this week.”