Sincerely Enemies: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (The Warr Acres High Series Book 1)

by Kelsie Stelting

  ADAM: I think this is above my pay grade. Maybe talk to Mrs. Arthur about it.

  She might have replied. She might not have. I wouldn’t know, because I slammed my computer screen closed and laid down.

  I threw my arm over my eyes, but all I could see were Nora’s words etched into my mind.

  Sixteen

  Nora

  ThePerfectStranger: I don’t need to talk to Mrs. Arthur. I need to see a friend. I know you were on the fence, but can we please meet up? Just for a little bit?

  My heart squeezed, desperation threatening to take all the air from my lungs. Why had he thrown up a wall? I needed him now more than ever.

  But I couldn’t keep walking around the block forever, waiting for Adam to reply. Partially because my parents would start getting worried and partially because my heart hurt more with each second that passed without his reply. His silence communicated even more clearly what words could have said: I’m not interested.

  This entire day had been awful. Yeah, Emerick and I had beat Trey at the scavenger hunt, but I’d lost so much more. And I had a feeling this was just the beginning.

  I got closer to our house, and the driveway came into view, along with the Jeep parked beside my Crossover. Trey’s brand-new Jeep with big tires and pearlescent white paint. Sure, I used to feel cool sitting in the passenger seat, but now I saw it for what it was: just another meaningless status symbol.

  All the pain in my heart turned to anger. I was going to tell Trey once and for all to get out of my house—out of my life.

  I expected to find him in the kitchen, but I only saw Mom there. “Where’s Trey?”

  She dunked her tea bag in and out of her mug. “I said he could wait for you in your room.” Her face looked pinched.

  “Mom, are you okay?”

  She folded her hands on the table. “Yeah, my stomach’s just upset.”

  I wanted to ask why her eyes looked so tight or why her lips turned down at the corners, but I had other things to tend to. “Okay. Goodnight.”

  She nodded. “Goodnight, sweetie. Don’t let Trey stay too late—you’ve got an early morning.”

  Just like always. But I agreed and went upstairs.

  The door to my room was closed. Ugh. I hated the idea of all my stuff being subjected to his presence. I twisted the handle and pushed my door open.

  Trey sat on the edge of my bed, his hands in his lap, but he seemed frazzled. I checked around my room. My laptop was closed on my desk, none of my books seemed to have been moved, my dresser drawers were firmly shut. What had he been messing with?

  “Trey, what are you doing here?” I asked.

  He stood up and came to me, but I took a step back.

  He frowned. “Nora, I wanted to give you another chance to take me back. I know there’s been some...animosity between us, but I’m ready to put it behind us if you are.”

  I rolled my eyes, and it felt good. I could see why kids did it all the time. “Trey, I don’t need another chance. I need you to get out of my room.”

  He took another step closer and put his hands on either of my arms. “Nora, don’t do something you’ll regret later.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Are you seeing someone else?” His stare was so intense, it felt like I was under interrogation lights.

  “Even if there was someone else, it wouldn’t be any of your business, because we’re broken up.”

  “Nora, I—”

  “No.” I shook out of his hands and held the door open. “Get out of my room,” I hissed. “Get out of my house. Get out of my life. And leave me the hell alone.”

  Trey’s face hardened to blazing stone, and he practically spat his next words at me. “You just made a huge mistake, Nora Wilson. Just wait.”

  He jogged down the steps and left the house without even telling Mom goodbye.

  I sagged onto my bed, exhausted. Trey’s threat had felt real, but I was too tired to worry about it.

  A soft knock sounded on the doorframe, and I looked up.

  Amie stood in her sleep shirt and barely-there shorts Dad hated. Her blue eyes were wide. “Are you okay?”

  The back of my throat stung, and I swallowed. But I couldn’t talk, so I just shook my head.

  She came to my bed, sat down beside me, and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. She didn’t talk, just held me like that and let me cry.

  If I could have found the words, I would have told her how lonely I felt—how the one guy I actually cared about didn’t want to meet me. That our parents’ marriage was crumbling right under our mother’s oblivious nose.

  I just wanted to be a good big sister, a good friend, but I felt like I was failing at that, too, because my little sister was comforting me when she should have been sleeping.

  Instead, I let her comfort me. She helped me under my covers, and I fell into a deeper, darker sleep than ever before.

  For the next few days, I refreshed my phone as often as I could, checked my email on my laptop, and updated my Gmail app, hoping to hear from Adam. But no messages came.

  This wasn’t machine failure or a glitch with the app. This was a flaw in me. Why else would Adam talk to me for so long but not want to see me? He knew me better than anyone else. He knew me enough to stay away.

  London and Grace asked what was wrong, but I couldn’t tell them the whole truth. Just that I was taking the breakup hard. Which was mostly a lie, but it was also kind of true. I wished I could go back to six months ago, when I thought Trey was perfect. When I hadn’t seen his ugly side. When I thought my dad was a good man.

  Now, my whole world crumbled underneath me, and I didn’t know how long I could keep hopping over emotional landmines before getting swallowed whole in the parting ground below me.

  But I never knew how bad it could get.

  On Thursday morning, London stormed up to me in homeroom, Grace in tow behind her. London’s heels pounded on the tile, and she brandished a school paper. “What the hell is this, Nora?”

  My eyebrows furrowed. “The Ledger?”

  She opened it so hard it was a wonder the pages didn’t rip in half. And then she started reading in a whiney voice. “My friends just don’t get it. They have their lives together. I couldn’t tell them about my ex or my parents or family stuff. We just talk about hair and make-up and boys. Not real things like I do with you.”

  I snatched the paper from her and looked at the headline on the front. MAKING UP FOR OUR MISTAKE, A special issue dedicated to Nora Wilson.

  On the front page was an editorial written by Trey. I scanned it, barely making sense of his words over the pounding in my head.

  Part of being a good journalist is maintaining a high level of integrity and honesty in reporting. That means owning up to mistakes when they are made. When Nora Wilson and I suggested the advice column, Dear Adam, we meant for it to be representative of the student body and for all students who needed help to receive it. In addition, we wanted students to see the issues of other students. Essentially, by sharing these struggles, our student body would feel less alone. Unfortunately, those who lead often let their own self-care slip between the cracks. Nora, I would like to publicly apologize for not ensuring you received the help you needed from our columnist. No letters to the advice column should be hidden, no matter how “perfect” things may seem on the surface. Please, accept this apology from the entire WAHS Ledger staff, and seek out the help you need.

  Your WAHS Ledger editor,

  Trey Walters

  Not wanting to believe it, I flipped through every page, including the twelve-page insert with all of my emails spelled out in Times New Roman. The one small grace? Trey hadn’t included my latest instant message thread with Adam.

  Where had Trey found the emails? Had Adam been behind this?

  I couldn’t worry about that now. I had to find Amie before she could read the emails and see what I’d said about her, our family.

  The loudspeaker clicked on. “Will Nora Wilson an
d Trey Walters please go to Mrs. Arthur’s office? Nora Wilson and Trey Walters, please go to Mrs. Arthur’s office, immediately.”

  It clicked off, and I stared at London and Grace, their hurt expressions. “Let me explain. Later.”

  London inclined her head toward the paper in my hands. “I think you said it all.”

  Our homeroom teacher walked in, a copy of the paper rolled up in his hand. “Nora, did you hear that?”

  I nodded and brushed by my former friends to go to Mrs. Arthur’s office.

  Trey reached her door at the same time I did, and there wasn’t a glare strong enough in the world to do this moment justice. I hated Trey with every fiber of my being. He was a dirt bag, not worthy to take up space with the gum underneath all the desks, not worth all the rotting food in a dump.

  And the worst part? He was grinning at me, satisfied with everything he’d done.

  There weren’t regular words strong enough to describe exactly how horrible of a person he was. “Eat shit,” I said, just in time for Mrs. Arthur’s door to open.

  She and Principal Scott stood in the room, Mrs. Arthur holding on to the door handle.

  Principal Scott folded his arms across his chest. “Come in, Miss Wilson, Mr. Walters.”

  Mrs. Arthur shut the door. “Sit down, please, both of you.”

  I dragged my chair as far away as I could get from him, which wasn’t far in this tiny office, and knocked a bobblehead over.

  I picked up the tiny, grinning Bob Stoops, and put it back on her desk. The thing nodded happily, and I just wished he would stop grinning at me like that.

  Mrs. Arthur went to sit behind her desk, but Principal Scott remained standing, his arms folded across his bulky chest. “Care to explain yourself, Mr. Walters?”

  Trey sat up in his chair, looking like the perfect example of a “good kid.” If anyone had been looking in, they’d probably think he was getting an award, dressed in his khakis, a plaid button-up shirt, and leather Sperry’s. Even his hair was gelled and styled to perfection.

  “Sir,” Trey began, “like I mentioned in my editorial, this school has done Miss Wilson and her peers a severe disservice. As you can see from all the letters she sent, she has been in great distress and suffering silently.”

  Principal Scott grunted. “Cut the crap, Walters.”

  Trey’s head jerked back like he’d been slapped. Adults never talked to him like that. “Excuse me, sir?”

  Principal Scott put his hands on Mrs. Arthur’s desk and leaned forward until he practically towered over Trey. “You abused your power as editor and humiliated Miss Wilson over a breakup.”

  Trey’s eyes flitted everywhere but at Principal Scott.

  “Are you aware of how much your little stunt cost the school? We won’t be able to run the paper for three weeks now, thanks to you.”

  Trey finally looked up. “I can pay it back.”

  “You mean your parents can?” I muttered.

  Principal Scott lifted a finger. “Hold on a minute, Miss Wilson.” He turned back to Trey. “Your parents are on their way here while we come up with a punishment fitting for your behavior. You get back to class and think about what you did. And you better come up with a good excuse, because something like this is grounds for expulsion.”

  Trey could get expelled?

  His mouth dropped open. “Expulsion? I’m the student body vice president, captain of the basketball team, and editor of the newspaper,” Trey said, outraged. “You want to explain to the entire school why you threw away a state championship?”

  Mr. Scott’s lips went thin, and he leaned so close to Trey, I bet Trey could feel the principal’s breath on his face. “Are you threatening me?”

  Trey’s eyes shifted down. “No, sir.”

  Principal Scott stood up. “Good. Get out of here.”

  Trey walked outside, and the door closed behind him. Suddenly, the room felt small, and I felt dizzy with all the bobbleheads nodding around me.

  Now, Mrs. Arthur spoke. “Nora, I’m so sorry about this.”

  I folded my arms tightly and stared down. “Can I go talk to Amie?”

  Mrs. Arthur nodded. “Mr. Scott, will you page her?”

  He left the office, rubbing my shoulder on the way out. Like I could have felt any more pathetic.

  The sound of a paper rustling made me look up. Mrs. Arthur had the day’s issue in front of her. “I know these were your private emails, but there’s a lot of hopelessness in here. Have you ever heard of Caregiver’s Fatigue?”

  “If you read all the emails, you would know the answer,” I said, bitter. I’d warned Adam against it in my very first email.

  She pursed her lips. “Well, we’re on the same page. It’s perfectly normal for someone in your position to let self-care slide. When your mother gets here, I’m going to recommend she give you a day this weekend just to take for yourself. I know it won’t fix everything, but it might be a start.”

  “Wait,” I said. “What? My mom’s coming?” My stomach sank. Mom would know about the messages. What I said about her being a single parent and giving up her dreams. “You didn’t tell her about the emails, did you?”

  Mrs. Arthur’s big head nodded up and down like all of these stupid bobbleheads. “You can’t suffer through this alone.”

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “Look, I’ve got to talk to Amie before she sees everything.”

  A knock sounded on the door, and Principal Scott walked in, alone.

  He cleared his throat. “Amie...refused to meet with us.”

  Mrs. Arthur looked so sad for me, and I hated it. Something in me snapped, shifted, broke, became something I couldn’t recognize. And all I could see was this blurry doll smiling at me, nodding like everything was fine.

  I picked up the Bob Stoops bobblehead right in front of me and ripped his stupid smiling face off. And then I ran out of the office, to the parking lot, and got into my car where I could cry without grinning faces nodding at me like everything wasn’t completely ruined.

  Seventeen

  Emerick

  “Why’s everyone reading the paper?” Wolf muttered to me in homeroom.

  I shrugged. “Exposé on the dangers of unprotected sex?”

  He snickered. “What? That’s dangerous?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, dude.”

  “Gotta take care of that baby gravy, yo.” Wolf stuck his hand out for a fist tap, and I hated myself for returning it.

  I laughed. “You’re so weird.”

  Someone called for Nora Wilson and Trey Walters over the intercom, and I looked at Wolf, confused.

  He shrugged. “Probably won some award for getting their heads farther up their own asses than anyone else in history.”

  “Yeah,” I said, laughing, but my heart wasn’t in it. Nora might not be who I’d imagined ThePerfectStranger to be, but some part of her was real. Unfortunately, the realest part of her thought I was a brainless delinquent on his way to juvie.

  We sat through the whole “mindfulness” crap, which was basically just a good excuse to sit around and not think about anything for a while. Honestly, it was kind of nice to have some time at school where you didn’t have to hear kids talk shit on each other or get useless info drilled into your brain.

  Rolling into the hallway after homeroom was like watching one of those weird old horror movies where everything was normal but terribly wrong. Everyone had their noses in the newspaper.

  Wolf snagged one out of a freshman’s hands and held it up.

  My mouth fell open. Right there in black and white were all of the emails Nora Wilson had ever sent me. And all of the emails I had sent her, for the entire high school to see.

  And Trey Walters talking about integrity? That was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever seen. Mrs. Arthur had to know he was the one who did this, not me. It wasn’t just Nora’s reputation at risk now. It was my entire future.

  “I gotta go, man,” I said to Wolf and wheeled through the crowd of distract
ed students. I had to find Mrs. Arthur before Trey could get the story twisted.

  When I reached the door to her office, I heard yelling inside.

  “You’re talking about expelling my son? He is a model student, a star athlete, and has been a dedicated servant of this school!” a man’s voice roared. “So the kid got his heart broken. What do you expect? How was it even possible for him to make such a big change to the order of the paper? Aren’t there any checks and balances at this school?”

  I wheeled closer to the door, listening to every word. This guy had to be Trey’s dad, and by the way he was acting, no wonder Trey was such a rage-suppressed dick.

  Principal Scott started talking, not yelling like Trey’s dad. “The WAHS Ledger is a student-led publication. Our teachers edit the final version of each week’s paper and that file is sent to the printer. Your son—”

  “My son,” the man said, his voice still loud, “my son will be graduating from this school in May. You can find a punishment that seems fit, but it will not be expulsion. If you make the wrong choice, I can guarantee a legal battle like this school’s never seen before.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “No, it’s a promise.”

  The door banged open, and I saw who I assumed to be Trey’s dad first. He looked just like Trey, but with gray hair and a rounder waistline.

  I casually leaned back in my chair, like I was supposed to be there, not in class like every other student.

  On Trey’s way out, he caught my eye and sent me a glare so hard, you’d have thought he’d learned it from my dad.

  “Emerick,” Principal Scott said.

  I jerked my gaze from Trey’s back to see Principal Scott standing in the doorway.

  “Come in,” he said.

  He held the door open as I wheeled in to Mrs. Arthur’s intense gaze. Suddenly, I felt like I was in a fishbowl. I couldn’t stand the bobbleheads.