by Lee Mae
4
NIKKI
I WAS IN the bathroom, in front of the mirror trying to wipe the pudding off my dress, when I realized I was crying.
“Stupid mean bitches and their stupid braindead, asshole boyfriends!” I muttered to myself while trying to treat what would surely be a stain. “Fuck,” I growled. The dress was definitely ruined.
Frustrated, I threw the dirty paper towel in the trash and scrubbed at my face, trying not to smear my makeup.
Suddenly a laundry detergent pen was shoved in my face. “Try this.”
I took hold of it, turning to look at the girl who’d handed it to me. She had long, dark hair capped off by a knit beanie and almond eyes. She was wearing something that looked like homemade Tokyo streetwear, including her painted platform tennis shoes.
“Thanks, but I don’t think these really work on this type of fabric.” Handing it back, I noticed she had a tattoo on her hand of Hello Kitty, who was sporting a punk rock attitude. It was actually kind of charming.
“Oh, well. Sorry.”
“No. Don’t be sorry. We both tried.” I forced a smile to my face. “By the way, I’m Nikki. I’m new.”
“Sam. And I could tell.” She smirked. “No one dresses like that around here.”
I chuckled humorlessly. “’My parents always told me to dress for success. It obviously doesn’t help here.”
Sam laughed. “I get it. My neighbor’s friend’s cousin dresses like you. Do you have a rich older boyfriend? Or are you escorting on the side?”
My eyes went wide. “Escorting?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. My neighbor’s friend’s cousin could make like three grand in a weekend escorting. She has that exact same bag,” she said, pointing to my LV.
“Uh, no.” I blushed, unbelieving. “I’m not a prostitute. And I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Okay,” Sam said, shrugging. “You want to have lunch? Looks like most of yours went down the front of you.”
I didn’t relish going back into the cafeteria to see the smug face of Blondie and her pals, but before I could turn her down, Sam said she and her friends usually ate under a tree behind the gym. With nothing else to do, I thanked her and then followed her outside.
It wasn’t easy to sit down in the dress I was wearing, but there was a small wall not far from the tree that I managed to settle on to. Sam’s friend group was not what I was expecting.
“This is Nikki,” she said, introducing me, then went around the group, putting names to the faces. “That’s Ash in all black. That’s all he ever wears.”
Ash nodded at me. His hair was bleached bright white, but his outfit was matte black, and his look was complemented by a hint of eyeliner and mascara.
“That’s Trinity, in the boots.” Trinity was the opposite of Ash. Her outfit was an explosion of color. A rainbow suspender skirt with a polka dot shirt underneath, she had red leather boots on big black platforms.
“Hi!” She waved, her smile friendly and wide. “They call me Rainbow Bright. Welcome to Valley High!”
“We don’t call her that,” Ash mumbled. “She wants us to, but we don’t.”
“Shh,” Trinity said, elbowing him then collapsing in a fit of giggles.
“And that’s Angel.” Angel’s name fit her face, big blue eyes beneath honey blonde hair. She was a curvy girl, definitely plus-sized, and wore a loud, tight-fitting outfit.
Looking the group over, I realized they weren’t my typical clique. Then again, my friend group was more reminiscent of the girls who’d laughed gleefully while pudding dripped from my irreplaceable designer dress. Maybe finding a new group of friends was for the best. Honestly, I had a feeling hanging out with them might be a lot less stressful. At least, I hoped so.
“Changing schools your senior year must suck,” Angel said as she sipped some water out of her sticker-covered stainless steel water bottle. “What happened?”
“We moved. My dad… left.” I wasn’t in the mood to share my whole sob story. It wasn’t like I wanted the whole school to know that my father was a thief and a liar. I loved the guy and it was hard for me to come to grips with.
“I’m sorry,” Angel murmured as Sam put a hand on my shoulder. For a moment, I was taken aback. These were virtual strangers offering me sympathy when my supposed ‘real friends’ had given me nothing but scorn.
It felt good.
Until I remembered that I hadn’t told them the whole truth. They’d probably ostracize me too if they knew. And as much as it pained me to admit it, I needed to fit in somewhere. Even if it was with this group of misfits.
Although the girls seemed ready to accept me, Ash wasn’t as open to the idea. “Don’t worry,” he said, sizing me up. “I’m sure you’ll find your place soon enough. And by the looks of it, that place is with someone like Leigh Thompson and her bourgeois group of female frenemies.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him. Ash didn’t think I belonged with his group, an opinion I might have shared if I didn’t know how the power dynamics of popularity worked. “Let me guess, Leigh Thompson is blonde and decked out in Forever 21 and perfume made by some You Tube star?”
Trinity stared at me in surprise. “How did you know? Are you psychic?”
I grunted. “No. I already had a run-in with her and her gang of skanks.” Pointing to my dress, I related what had happened shortly before. “She had some hunk bump into me accidentally on purpose so that my lunch ended up all over me.”
Sam rolled her eyes and shook her head in disgust. “That sounds like Leigh all right.”
I shrugged. “I’m not looking to fit in with some clique that only cares about how hot other people think they look.” As I said the words, I realized for the first time that they might be true. My life at Augustus was over. It was time to start making real friends. Friends that wouldn’t desert me when bad things happened. I’d fought so hard to be accepted in the old school and, admittedly, it had been fun while it lasted. But that crowd had shown their true colors in the end. I still couldn’t get over the fact that they’d turned on me so viciously.
Ash looked me over, then shook his head, but Angel got up on her knees and moved forward. “You’re welcome to hang out with us. We prefer to opt-out of the normal high school bullshit and just do our own thing.”
“Thanks,” I said, surprised at the warmth suffusing my chest. Back at Augustus, chances are I wouldn’t have known a group like this existed, unless it was to snigger at them with my girls when they passed in the hall. Maybe this time, things would be different.
I’d done some soul searching over the summer and realized that I’d been too self-centered, too focused on my own social status, at being at the right parties, at having a carefully curated social media presence. When tragedy stuck, none of those behaviors had helped. I’d been caring about the wrong things for too long. It was time to be a better me.
Looking down, I realized armoring up for the day might have been the wrong decision. It had only gotten me the wrong kind of attention. Maybe making myself vulnerable would work better. I hugged myself at the thought, not ready to completely open myself up to strangers yet. But it felt nice to be accepted, especially after the incident in the lunchroom.
When the lunch hour was almost over, I walked inside with my new friends. As we headed down the halls, I saw that the group I was with got plenty of deriding looks and behind-the-hand giggles. But they didn’t seem fazed by the unfriendly attention. It was like their friendship warded off the negative effects as they continued laughing and joking as they had outside.
Unfortunately, I had to break away from the group to head toward my next class. Economics wasn’t my first choice, but it was a required course here at Valley High, so I settled into a seat at one of the two-person tables near the back. Thankfully, there was no Leigh in sight, but my heart dropped when I saw the good-looking guy from the cafeteria enter, followed by his companion douchebags.
Great, I thought, slouching in my seat and hoping to r
emain unnoticed. I wasn’t looking forward to another bout of bullying so soon after the first.
Unfortunately, three sets of eyes found me. One of the guys chuckled, high-fiving the other, and they started to make a beeline toward me. The tall guy in the front was faster, and he managed to snag the seat beside me, leaving the other two to claim the table beside ours.
I debated getting up to another seat, but the teacher called the class to order shortly after, so there was no time. I stared straight ahead, my heartbeat echoing in my ear, hoping that they’d leave me alone. Class had barely started before the tall one next to me was leaning over to whisper at me.
“Hey, I’m sorry about what happened in the cafeteria.”
I frowned, surprised. Why would he be apologizing? Was this some kind of trick?
It had to be.
I ignored him, pretending he hadn’t spoken.
The teacher began calling roll, which gave me the chance to learn my new nemeses’ names. The most attractive of the bunch, the one sitting next to me, was Zack Modine.
“Seriously, it was an accident,” he said, after raising his hand following his name.
“Sure,” I said, out of the side of my mouth. “An accident. Like when you pee the bed at night.”
Even I was shocked at the harshness of my tone.
Zack recoiled, his brows lowering and anger filling his face. Maybe I’d gone too far, but my embarrassment at being befouled earlier was coupling with the months of degradation I’d experienced at the hands of my so-called friends. I wasn’t in any mood to play nice.
“You’re a piece of work,” he muttered as the teacher started to write on the board. “You don’t think it was an accident?”
“Look who’s catching up. No, I don’t. Not when your goon squad over there is readying spitballs to blow in my direction.”
Zack turned, letting out a huff of frustrated air when he realized his pals were doing just that. “I was getting up, and I accidentally backed into you. It wasn’t on purpose.”
“Sure. And your girlfriend, Leigh, didn’t tell you to do it,” I replied dryly.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” he growled. “And she doesn’t tell me what to do. However, she did mention that you called her ‘trash.’”
I smiled coldly. “I think I used the term ‘garbage,’ but if the Hefty bag fits…”
Zack shook his head and stopped talking.
I focused on my breathing, wondering if I’d been too hostile. That is, until the first spitball hit my cheek.
I turned and glared at the other two idiots. “Grow the fuck up,” I mouthed.
They smiled gleefully.
“I swear to God…” I mumbled under my breath.
Another spitball hit our table. This time it was Zack who turned and glared at his friends. They quickly looked away and pretended to be listening to the teacher.
“Fucking idiots,” Zack whispered, looking as disgusted as me.
I stared at his profile from the corner of my eye. He was aggravatingly handsome. Long eyelashes. A strong jawline. Perfect lips. He both rugged and beautiful. If things were different, I could be majorly into him.
What if it really was an accident?
What if we’d both been in the wrong place at the wrong time?
Stranger things have happened.
Then again, it didn’t add up. He was clearly friends with the two morons who were still currently engaged in spitball deployment. And he’d been sitting next to Leigh for lunch. I’d seen them walk into the cafeteria like they owned the place, her arm looped through his, a superior smile on her face. They were definitely a couple, even though he was denying it.
A theory floated into my mind: He was buttering me up for an even bigger fall.
I better keep my guard up and watch my back.
The teacher walked around the classroom, handing out sections of the newspaper. “Okay, folks. These will be part of your semester-long assignment. You and your partner are going to choose stocks to invest in with virtual dollars. You’ll write up an investment plan, mock up a portfolio, follow your stocks’ progress, and write up a final report together that you will present in front of the class, due the last week of the term. Make sure to choose your stocks wisely.”
He set down two copies of today’s financial section on the table and I picked up one, glancing at it briefly before setting it back down. I felt a little nauseated, considering the semester-long project we were about to undertake. It hit too close to home.
My father had spent hours poring over newspapers and magazines and websites related to financial news. Now he was behind bars for swindling innocent people out of their hard-earned money. Anything to do with the situation was bound to trigger me, like it was now.
While the newspapers were being distributed, a student raised her hand. “How are the partners being chosen?”
The teacher looked around, doing a quick headcount. “I’m fine with you just partnering up with the person you’re sitting next.”
Most of the class was delighted at this turn of events, but as I turned, wide-eyed, to look at the muscular bully sitting next to me and saw that he was looking back at me with an identical look of alarm on his handsome face, my spirits sank.
It looked like I’d be stuck with the bully all term. Could this day get any worse?
5
Zack
HER NAME WAS Nicole, and she had a body that was making it a little hard for me to breathe. Until she’d opened her mouth and I realized she had an attitude as ugly as she was beautiful.
And then I found out she’d be my partner for the whole semester.
Oh goody.
She was currently looking down at the newspaper with an expression of faint disgust. I wondered when she’d developed this superiority complex. Sure, she was attractive, and her clothing screamed money, but she was still at Valley High with the rest of us normal folks, so there was no reason to walk around like she was God’s gift.
Especially with her snotty behavior. The new girl wasn’t going to score any friends with arrogance like that.
“Pssst!”
Like half the class, I looked over at Chris after his attempt to get my attention quietly. “Ask her to meet up after school.”
My puzzled look must have been enough of an answer. Chris winked at me three times, then made a shooing gesture. I was about to ask him if he was having a stroke when the teacher, Mr. Marston, started speaking again.
“Today, you’ll start putting together your portfolio. But how do you pick a winning stock?”
The lecture picked up steam and I listened while sneaking peeks at my new portfolio partner. Her hand was on her chin, her eyes half-lidded as she listened. Her expression looked as if she was smelling something bad. When Mr. Marston gave us instructions for learning to read the close columns of stocks listed in the newspaper and set us loose, she pulled the newspaper toward her, peering down at it with a scowl.
I scanned the column of my own paper, looking at the list of letters and numbers. We were supposed to pick three and dissect them, filling out a list of details Mr. Marston had written on the board. “Which one should we pick first?” I asked.
She gave a shrug. “I don’t care. You pick.”
I pointed at a listing at random. “How about this?”
Nicole went through the motions, but it was clear she was unenthusiastic about the assignment.
I smirked. “What’s the matter? Not a fan of making money?”
She looked at me, and I could see her hesitate before answering, but I wasn’t sure why. My question was innocuous enough, wasn’t it?
“This isn’t making money. This is pushing paper around and pretending it’s real.”
I gave her a hard look. “I didn’t know you were a Marxist.”
Her surprised expression made me wonder if she knew what Marxism was, but what she said next knocked me for a loop. “If you’re asking me if I believe in the unsustainability of capitalism and the ine
vitability of socialism through revolution, I would have to say that the jury is still out. But if you’re blaming my indifference to this project on Marx, you’d be wrong.”
I was impressed by her intelligence in spite of myself. “If Marx isn’t to blame, what is?”
She looked at me, and for a moment I thought she was about to reveal something critical. But she just shook her head and turned away, mumbling, almost to herself, “I’m not a fan of finance.”
Frowning, I jerked the paper toward me, selecting another stock. We worked in silence, and I wondered what exactly Miss Nicole Easton’s deal was. Why was she at Valley? Why the attitude? And what was it about our assignment that bothered her? It was clear it wasn’t just her partner that was annoying her.
“Your preliminary portfolio is due on Friday, with your stock choices and initial research. We’ll start tracking the following week, for ten weeks. Let’s see if you can make some money, or if you lose your fortune.”
I felt a jolt at Marston’s last words. A sudden feeling of unease settled on me as the assignment’s focus sank in fully. We were investors, risking our ‘fortunes’ on the stock market. That meant putting our fake money in the hands of Wall Street, which might as well be Transylvania, peopled by financial advisors ready to suck our necks and bleed us dry.
It hit too close to home, and I could feel the anger rising inside me. Anger had been my default for months now. It was the emotion I felt most comfortable with, the one I could rely on to carry me through.
When my new partner pushed her paper toward me, presumably to compare our answers, my temper escaped its cage. “Careful,” I snapped when her paper slipped over the edge, taking my newspaper with it.
“Sorry,” she said, rolling her eyes at my forceful reaction. “It was ‘an accident.’”
The way she threw my own words from earlier in my face just ramped up my anger. “You know what, I don’t need your little attitude. I apologized earlier, and I meant it, but if you want to throw it in my face, fine. But you’re not going to make any friends if you keep acting like a stuck-up bitch.”