Bitter Lies

by Nina Lincoln

  “What’s the matter, Princess? Missing the filet minion?” My new nemesis whispers in my ear. I’d recognize his deep voice anywhere.

  Goosebumps break out on my skin at his proximity, his warm breath skating over my neck in a caress. Turning to him with surprise, the distasteful frown fades from my face.

  He’s so gorgeous my heart stutters in my chest. I’m caught stupidly staring, tongue-tied as he reaches around me with a smirk and grabs a tray of fries, eating a few, and licking his fingers all while he stares at me with his pale eyes.

  Watching him lick those fingers, slowly, with his eyes blazing into mine creates a beautiful havoc in my body. A cascade of tingles surge through me uncomfortably and I resist the urge to shiver as heat pulses through me in waves.

  The trance is broken when he arches a brow and says, “You stupid or something?”

  Flushing, I turn my head away, silently castigating myself, it’s not like I’ve never seen a hot guy before. Why does this one get me all knotted up inside? When I don’t answer, he shrugs and brushes by me, hitting my shoulder in the process.

  Grabbing a lackluster salad with wilted lettuce and zero vegetables, I pay and walk away, searching out a seat as far away from him and his derision as possible.

  The cafeteria is quite large with old tables and even more ancient chairs tucked beneath. The school itself could’ve used an upgrade probably twenty years ago or more. Hot guy sits with his friends in a corner, all of them speaking and laughing over each other.

  Spying a lone table at the back, in the corner, I sit and sigh, chewing on my tasteless food mindlessly.

  If I were back home, I’d be sitting down with my friends, gossiping about the summer, and otherwise enjoying myself.

  I haven’t heard from any of them, not since the incident, not since I was sent away after my whole world was ripped out from under me. In the grand scheme of things, this here and now is nothing compared to the reality I face when I go home.

  Never again will I be greeted by my mom with her soft blue eyes, so like mine. She won’t be there to sit me down and gossip with me about my first day, my friends, and the hot boys. No, I’ll be going home to an empty house, not even my Aunt Maggie will be around since she’s working two jobs.

  Although they were twins, Aunt Maggie chose a different road than Mom. It shows in the weary lines bracketing her eyes, the fine lines around her mouth, and the cynicism she conveys tiredly. All in all, she’s the exact opposite of Mom with her effervescent smile, kind demeanor, and soft face.

  I guess looks can be deceiving though because, despite how it looks from the outside, Maggie for all her grimness won out in the end, she’s still breathing, and Mom’s buried six feet under in a pine box.

  No longer hungry, I pull out my phone and scroll through pictures trying to remember, to never forget my life before. With each day that passes it feels more and more like a dream, a construct of my mind. How long before I forget her face altogether?

  The next two classes are uneventful, although I suffer through biology with a permanent scowl on my face. I’m not keen on anything to do with dissection and our syllabus is covered in it.

  My final class of the day, psychology is next on the agenda. Of course, who do I spy but him when I enter. Needing no cruel encouragement, I find a spot as far from him as possible, pulling out my notebook and staring at the board.

  Although I studiously avoid looking at him now, I caught a glimpse on the way in. His beauty is still a shock to the system. He shines like a beacon, but his eyes glare with a warning, I’ve yet to decipher. Is this what mariners felt like when they sent their boats toward the soft glow of a lighthouse for safety but met hardened rocks instead?

  The teacher, a slim woman with short dark hair and kind blue eyes, peers around the room and goes back to whatever she’s reading.

  Students pile in with loud voices and the squeaking of rubber soles, snagging the available seats as they converge.

  A girl drops down in front of me and turns to me curiously, her jade green eyes sparkling out of thick dark lashes. She's got beautiful sable colored hair, falling around her shoulders in lush waves, one of the few who hasn’t dyed it a different color.

  She's the first to make an overture of any kind and my chest tightens in anticipation.

  “You’re the new chick? Win or something?” she asks, looking me over avidly.

  Shifting uncomfortably under her intense stare, I murmur, “Finn, it’s Finn.”

  “Huh...Girl, you stick out like a sore thumb. What were you thinking strolling in here wearing that shit?” she exclaims.

  “Um, I don’t know,” I say, awkwardly, chewing my lip between my teeth.

  “Hm, well, let me know if you want help with the wardrobe. Name’s Ramie by the way.”

  She turns back before I can respond, and I contemplate her offer until my attention is turned by the teacher.

  She goes down the roster of our names, each bringing a host of comments from the peanut gallery. The din rises to a crescendo and catcalls ring out when she says, “Colton Theroux?”

  Her mouth turns down at the ruckus, and Colton, or Colt I guess as his classmates sing his name, raises his arms in a shushing manner with a shit-eating grin on his face.

  Colt Theroux - his name fits him, dark and mysterious. He glances my way with a smirk, and I suppress a shiver as I lower my gaze. Despite his smile, I recognize the pain behind his eyes, it’s a darkness I see in myself. Perhaps that’s why I feel drawn to the icy guy with the cruel smile? Too bad he’s a bit of a jerk.

  After a long diatribe on the expectations for the year, we’re set free. Sailing along with the tide, I exit the building at the end of the day, relieved. I survived, just 270 odd days to go, which feels like a lifetime.

  Aunt Maggie lives in a rundown two-bedroom home about ten minutes from the school. The neighborhood is covered in trash, broken bottles, used needles, and other detritus the people gave up on keeping clean, years ago.

  Stone walls covered in graffiti, neighbors with glittering suspicious eyes, and barking dogs greet me as I pull into her drive and turn the engine off.

  Aunt Maggie made me trade in my Mercedes when I arrived, insisting it would be nothing more than a husk within a day of being in her driveway if I didn’t.

  Instead, I’m driving a used Honda with good mileage and no spirit, apparently safe from the environs though.

  I let myself inside, she’ll be working the graveyard shift at the plant, before coming home for a few hours to nap and pick up the day shift at the diner.

  I tried to give her money, to ease the burden, especially with me as an extra mouth to feed. With all the money left to me when Dad went away, it’s only right, but she refused - saying there’s nothing wrong with hard work, keeps you honest. Which maybe it does because she’s not one to hold back.

  I’m bewildered by how two people can be identical when they leave the womb and completely opposite now. Where Mom projected a lighthearted demeanor, Maggie is hard and jaded.

  In some ways, it’s a relief because I don’t see Mom when I look in her face, but it’s also a curse for the same reason.

  I’d like the chance to go back and hug her one last time, tell her just how much I love her, but much like the air we breathe, it’s ephemeral and out of my reach.

  ∞∞∞

  Maggie’s sleeping when I roll out of bed and ready myself for school. The previous evening’s entertainment consisted of old reruns, the hijinks lost on me as I stared blankly at the screen, deep in thought.

  Despite his completely off-putting attitude, I couldn’t help but relive Colt’s striptease in the parking lot, his gleaming muscles, fast reflexes, and arrogant swagger. Not to mention his pale grey eyes, so clear, it’s like looking into a pool of ice.

  Who is Colt Theroux?

  Since yesterday was a fashion wardrobe nightmare, I skip the button down and opt for jeans and a T-shirt, slipping Converse on my feet. They’re purple and spark
ly, I note with a grimace, but have to be a step up from the loafers I wore yesterday.

  Leaving my blonde hair down, it falls to my mid-back in gentle curls, heavy on my neck. Forgoing makeup, because I don’t want any of them to think I’m trying too hard, I make my way to school with a heavy heart.

  I’d like to think I can make a friend or two, maybe enjoy what I can of this new experience, but so far except for Ramie, I’ve been met with skepticism and censure.

  Colt’s desk is empty when I stroll into class, and I breathe a sigh of relief, ignoring the pulse of disappointment in my chest. The seat he blocked me from sitting in remains empty, leading me to believe it wasn’t taken so much as he just didn’t want me to sit there. Ugh.

  Mr. Jackson, my cranky teacher, starts the lesson, only to be interrupted by Colt when he waltzes in twenty minutes later. Mr. Jackson gives him an annoyed look but doesn’t comment.

  Greetings and catcalls ring out before the teacher shushes everyone and gets back to business. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy a new bruise blooming on Colt’s cheek and wonder if he was in another fight.

  His head swivels my way as though he can sense my gaze and I quickly look back to the front, feeling his eyes burn a hole in the side of my head.

  I’d like to say I focused on the teacher, but the entire time, my body was buzzing with awareness. Just his presence creates a jittery high that whooshes through my system uncomfortably.

  When the bell rings, I escape the room quickly, only to walk into a catfight just outside the door - two girls really going at it. One’s got the other in a tight hold, while she fights back by slamming her fist into the side of her aggressor.

  I marvel at the size of the girl currently holding her victim in a headlock. She’s huge, and I mean tall and husky, with large hands and shoulders. There’s not a delicate bone in her body.

  They break apart and swing at each other, just as someone pushes me from behind and I shove into the back of the tall girl, who so happens to be the one who could give a pro wrestler a run for their money.

  She stumbles from my unintentional body check, swinging around with a nasty look and raised fists. I shrink back with a sense of doom, this girl is no dainty miss, and I’m damning my fucking life as her fist flies toward my face. I slam back into someone behind me, momentarily blinded by the white-hot pain shooting through my eye socket.

  Strong arms pull me up and wrap around me from behind, brushing the underside of my breasts casually.

  “Now Melissa, is that any way to treat our new student?” Colt says from above me.

  Truthfully, I’m momentarily distracted by his warm arms embracing me. Tingles shoot down my spine, every fiber of my being hyper-focused on his arms touching me tantalizingly. Even the pulsing in my eye takes a backseat to his touch.

  Melissa grunts, her nostrils flaring like a bull as she eyes me with rancor but steps back. “Whatever Colt, your bitch started it.”

  I stiffen in his arms, but he squeezes me tighter in warning and I subside. Seriously, my whole body is on fire and while I’d like to blame it on outrage at this chick’s attack, I know it’s directly related to Colt’s tight grip around me and the slight brush of his fingers against my breast.

  Is he doing it on purpose?

  “Just a harmless accident,” he says silkily. She gives me one last malicious glare, which shrivels my insides and stalks away. I slump in his arms but almost fall when he lets me go quickly.

  “That was your one pass, Princess. This isn’t a tea party, you better figure out how to play or you’re gonna be crushed,” he says, grimly.

  “I’m not a princess,” I mutter, mulishly.

  He laughs icily, glancing down my body cruelly, “Nice shoes.”

  I watch him walk off, my heart pounding in my chest. Dick.

  ∞∞∞

  By the last period, I’m a jittering mass of nerves. My supposed fight with the hulking Melissa set me up in a ‘them vs me’ scenario in which I don't know the players, only that I’m now one of them.

  Someone kicked me in the back on the way to lunch but when I turned, it was to the acidic glares of three girls with anticipation gleaming in their eyes. Yep, I backed down from that fight quickly, although we all knew I was going to anyway.

  Garbage was thrown at my head on my walk to psych, and in between all the madness, I was met with slurs more inventive than I’ve ever heard before. I smell like garbage and my back aches when I slip into my seat wearily.

  Ramie gives me a piteous look, eyeing my black eye, but nods her approval of my outfit until she gets to my shoes. With a scrunched frown she shakes her head and turns toward the board in disappointment.

  With a sigh, I pull out my notebook and prepare to daydream through the class. I’m all set up, my mind already wandering to Colt’s delicious arms when some chick I don’t recognize stops at my desk and says, “You mess with my girl Melissa? I’m gonna fuck you up.”

  I shrink away, desperately hoping the teacher will intervene, but she just clears her throat and speaks louder to be heard over the din. Students all around start to grumble and before I can react, she’s got a fist in my hair and people around me are shouting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

  Chair’s screech across the floor, everyone making room to see what’s about to go down.

  With a wince, I’m pulled from the seat and I land on my knees with bitch’s hand clenched tightly in my hair. She gets in a few good blows to my head before I shake myself out of my whimpering stupor and realize I’m on my own. I can fight and lose, or just lose and I’m not sure losing will consist of just a few bruises.

  She’s not much bigger than me, but she’s definitely scrappier. Grabbing the hand in my hair and pulling, I bring her down on top of me and roll away. She drops my hair in surprise but reaches over to grab my arm. Rolling over quickly and onto a set of feet standing at the edge of our melee, I gain my own and stare at her, my chest heaving.

  Slowly rising, she glares heatedly but thankfully backs down, looking around the room nonchalantly before finding her seat in the back.

  The bright side? My back no longer hurts, but I’ve now got a raging headache to take its place. I sort of feel like I was just forced to prove myself. The question is - how many more times will I have to?

  As though nothing happened, Ms. Watkins resumes her lesson and I shake my aching head. This is like the fucking twilight zone.

  A quick glance in Colt’s direction confirms he’s been watching, and with his amused stare and nonchalant demeanor, I’m assuming he enjoyed the show. Smarting, I turn my head away from his smug face and clench my teeth. As he said, this is definitely no tea party.

  Of course, I heard none of what the teacher said and sprinted for my car the minute the bell rang, driving home and nursing my wounds, while I cried in the shower.

  Northside High is turning out to be brutal.

  ∞∞∞

  Because the day inevitably comes around whether you’re prepared or not, I find myself back in the school parking lot the next morning, staring at the building with dread.

  What new horror awaits me today?

  I’m startled out of my thoughts when there's a heavy rap on my passenger window. Ramie stands on the other side with a grim expression, her green eyes dark, miming for me to unlock the door. Reluctantly I hit the button and she slides into the passenger seat giving me an uneasy look.

  “What now?” I ask wearily. She eyes my outfit first, noting my jeans and a white T-shirt.

  “Girl, we still need to work on that wardrobe.”

  “Seriously!” I mutter.

  She shrugs and looks out the window, “I heard that Melissa plans to jump you after school, teach you a lesson. You might want to avoid it if you can, she’s a mean bitch.”

  “I know,” I mutter, touching my fingers to the shiner on my eye.

  “Just skip out before the last period or something,” she says, exiting the vehicle and walking away.

  “Thanks
for the advice,” I mutter to myself.

  I’m half tempted to screw the whole day, but mama didn’t raise no quitter so with a deep breath I exit and walk toward my execution with a heavy heart.

  Once inside, I pass Colt, leaning over some chick, smiling into her face, while she beams up at him with doe eyes. The sight makes my chest pulse uncomfortably, but I ignore it and him, hoping to get by unscathed.

  Which would’ve worked fine if one of his homies didn’t step in my path and block my way with a smiling leer, “Mm, you may dress like a tard, but you’ve got the curves, Baby. I bet you’re good at getting on your knees. All rich bitches are, aren’t they? Wanna suck my dick?”

  I’m momentarily taken aback. I’ve never been spoken to so crassly before. I mean, I’ve never even been propositioned before. Where I’m from everybody knew me and respected who I was. If boys talked like this it sure as hell wasn't in my presence.

  “Um, that's a super flattering offer and all,” I mutter, feeling my cheeks heat when Colt’s gaze swings our direction, “but I think I’ll pass.”

  “Oh ho! Little bitch thinks she’s better than us. What’s the matter bitch, daddy too hard on you last night? Gotta earn your allowance, right?” he says with a grotesque gesture of his tongue.

  I stare at him for a moment, all kinds of thoughts rolling through my head. A - what a truly disgusting implication. B - my ‘daddy’ is currently serving a life sentence. C - what a fucking asshole!

  I’m saved from having to respond when Colt sidles up behind me, pressing against my back. The heat from his chest warms me through, little chills breaking out on my skin. I’m not sure, but I think I feel his hardness pressing against my ass, and oh boy but does it make my body twitch.

  “I have a feeling Dirk, that Princess here takes it in the backdoor, it’s always the prissy ones who are the nastiest in bed,” Colt says with a matching leer.

  Dirk’s eyes light with unholy glee, and I grit my teeth, torn between the tingles surging through me at Colt’s proximity and outrage at his nasty words. What a bunch of disgusting assholes!