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This sounded complex. “Look,” I murmured. “I don’t really want to hear your
family’s genogram.”
“That’s okay,” she said brightly. “I don’t really want to tell you my family’s genogram. We’re messed up, that’s the gist of it.”
“And why are you talking to me…?”
“Because you shagged my brother and didn’t give him the time of day
afterwards.” She grinned and it lit up her face and eyes. Corrigan would’ve called her hot without the smile, but he would’ve considered her deadly with the smile. “I wanted to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said dully and dismissed her as I turned my back to leave. I expected her to say something, but she didn’t. When I got to my locker, I realized why— she’d followed me.
“What?” I grabbed my sixth period book.
“I thought maybe,” she shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe we could be friends?
You know who I am and you don’t care about my brother. I like that. And I heard around that you don’t have a lot of friends.”
“I don’t do friends.”
I cringed inside. Bad choice of words.
“This isn’t about popularity. Trust me.” She assured me and gestured to the hallway. I glanced around and saw a good portion of the guys were eyeing us, up and down. I’d grown immune to the attention, but I shouldn’t have been surprised they were watching her.
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Mena waved them off and added, “I know who my brother is. I can be popular off his name. I can be popular on my own too. I was Homecoming Queen at my last school for the junior class. I went to the largest high school in Manhattan. I’d like to think that says something.”
“Becky Lew likes friends,” I mentioned. Becky Lew liked followers.
Mena parroted my thoughts as she snorted, “Becky Lew likes to be followed
around and fanned. She wants errand girls, not friends. I was lucky to get a few good friends at my old school. I like you. I heard all about you from Denton and this morning around school. You don’t give a crap what people think of you. It works for you.” She stepped closer and said, “And you don’t play those childish games that all girls inevitably do. I’m tired of that life.”
I frowned and moved away from her. To be truthful, I didn’t know what to think of this girl. Luckily, Corrigan interrupted us as he stopped and asked, his back turned to Mena, “Do I need to know what happened between you two?”
Corrigan did that so efficiently. It was a perfected technique that effectively cut out anyone else.
For a moment, I thought he meant me and Mena, but then comprehension dawned
and I whispered, “No. You don’t need to know because
I
don’t even know.”
He meant Bryce and myself.
“Bryce is furious. I’m asking.” He shifted closer to me. “Should I know what happened?”
“You want to know all the dirty secrets?” I teased. “You want the play by play?”
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Corrigan took the hint and returned smoothly, “You taped it. Right? Tell me you taped it.”
Mena shifted farther to the side as Corrigan dropped to lean against the locker that she had been standing against.
She frowned at his back, but all of our attention was thwarted when Bryce
stopped beside us.
He ran his eyes over Corrigan and myself before he drawled, “Principal wants to see us.”
I groaned and buried my head in my locker.
“Hope your nooner was worth it. I heard you guys were supposed to be at the
library instead.” Corrigan leered knowingly.
“We skipped because you were hungry,” Bryce pointed out.
The leer disappeared.
Becky Lew chose that moment to stop with her usual crowd of minions behind
her. She smiled seductively at Bryce and ran a hand down his chest while she purred,
“Hey, guys.”
No one knew what to do.
It was common knowledge that Bryce was off-limits when I was around. There
was a reason why Stephanie Hills scampered off his table when I arrived. It wasn’t because I turned sudden bitch, it was just because Bryce really did choose me first. Girls just got humiliated when I showed up.
I frowned and watched Corrigan instead.
He tensed and looked at me.
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I burst out laughing, which earned a few puzzled looks.
“I’m sorry.” I tried to hide my smile behind a hand. “It’s just…you were all after Corrigan this morning and now you’re into Bryce?”
The seductive gleam vanished from Becky’s eyes. They narrowed in anger at me instead.
I caught a relenting glint of amusement in Bryce’s eyes so I moved forward and leaned my back against him.
Bryce tensed a moment and then slid his arms around my waist to dip his hands inside. I felt his thumbs caress against my thong, but that’s all they did.
Becky frowned and stepped back.
“What are you doing here, Lew?” Corrigan leaned against my locker now.
She paused and studied him a moment. Then she glanced at Bryce and myself.
She’d tried the girlfriend bit with Corrigan, which hadn’t worked and now…I
couldn’t understand her thought process. She probably wanted to make Corrigan jealous.
And I had ruined it because I had laughed at her and then stole the show as Bryce had his arms around me, not her.
I looked up and caught an appreciate gleam in Mena’s startling green eyes before she turned and sauntered away.
Becky was flushed, but she retorted, “I thought I’d say hello to Bryce since you’ve ignored me all day.”
“There’s a reason for that,” Corrigan said swiftly and bounced on his heels. He was ready for a fight. The malice was mixed with enjoyment.
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Bryce chuckled in my ear and I leaned fully against him. The two continued when I let my head fall backwards to his shoulder and I asked, my mouth beside his ear, “Truce?”
Bryce pulled away slightly to look at me. His eyes searched my face before he sighed and murmured, “I was just touchy before.”
“Yeah, but…,” I pulled away and turned so my stomach rested against him.
“I don’t get what you were mad at before,” I reasoned, ignoring the warmth that spread over my body.
This was just how it was between us.
“I wasn’t. Can we drop it?” Bryce straightened and I pulled away.
“I’m the one who avoids. Why are you avoiding this? I don’t even get what
you’re avoiding.”
Neither of us were aware that Corrigan and Becky had stopped to watch us. The entire hallway watched us too.
“I’m not avoiding anything. I just don’t…”
“What?” I cried out, more annoyed that I didn’t understand. If I understood what I’d said to piss him off, then I could understand what he was avoiding. I just didn’t understand and…we were nearing one of those ‘near emotion’ events.
I’d had enough. My red flag had been thrown up.
I pushed through the group and shrugged off, “I’m out.”
A second later, I heard Bryce curse.
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I ignored the principal’s heed and headed to my art class. The teacher was cool.
Mr. Sayword wouldn’t say a word, even if the principal did track me down. Seriously, though, how can one truant student be so important?
I managed a grin to Mr. Sayword when I entered the room and swiftly entered the darkroom. I clicked the switch that let others know now not to interrupt because I’d be working on films. Instead of grabbing some film, I pulled out my drawing pad and started a portrait.
No, I wasn’t upset. No, this wasn’t a self-coping mechanism. I just wanted to avoid any and all. The darkroom gave me that.
After ten minutes, some students pounded on the door and I called out, “What?”
“Are you almost done developing? We have some pictures we need to develop
too, you know. You’re not the only one.”
I stood and opened the door.
There were three students and all of them took a step back, startled when they saw who it was.
“Oh. Sorry, Sheldon. Seriously,” a girl said quickly as she grabbed her camera and hurried to a corner.
The other two gaped. One was a boy with wire-rim glasses and messy black hair.
He used gel to make it stick out on its ends. It looked trendy, which was accentuated by the plaid vest that was snug over a black silk shirt. The other boy was tall, lanky, and wore a Suns tee shirt.
Neither looked familiar.
“What are your names?” I asked since they still hadn’t moved out of my way.
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“Um…I’m Teddy.” The plaid vest guy mumbled and pointed beside him, “This is
Brent.”
“Hi.”
They didn’t move.
“Move,” I spelled it out.
“Um…” Teddy began again.
Just then I looked up and saw Bryce enter the room.
He glanced at Mr. Sayword and then scanned the room. His eyes stopped on mine and he approached me.
“We’re supposed to be at the principal’s office. I’ve told you twice,” he snapped.
“And I said that I was out.”
“Then you should’ve left school. They know you’re here so we gotta go and pay our penance or something,” he growled and skimmed his eyes over Teddy and Brent.
Both snapped to attention and ran off.
“Were you talking to them?”
“No,” I sighed and moved back into the darkroom for my drawing pad. Bryce
followed and looked around.
“I’ve never been in here,” he murmured and leaned against the counter.
I eyed him up and down and made my decision. I shut the door again and flipped the same switch.
“What is up with you today?” I demanded to know. Enough was enough.
“Noth—” he started to say, but I interrupted.
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“Bryce. Seriously. I’m here and I want to have this talk. Tell me what’s up with you.”
His eyes locked with mine and I saw that he was considering it, considering
something.
Finally, he cut out, “Why’d you bail on my party?”
“Are you serious? This is what that’s about? Because I bailed on your party?”
“Yes and no.” He sighed and pushed off from the counter, but kept a hold of its edge. He bounced back and forth, doing reverse push-ups from the counter. His arm muscles bulged with each movement.
“I don’t know,” Bryce mumbled with his chin tucked downwards. He looked at
the floor. “I just…I don’t know. I’m on edge today.”
“Why?” I was dumbfounded. Yeah. I had bailed on Friday night, but so what? He still got laid. Corrigan said he saw Bryce disappear into a backroom with one of the cheerleaders. And Saturday night, Bryce had been all over some cross-country runner.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “We should go before we get in more trouble.”
“Since when do you care how much trouble we get into?” They couldn’t do
anything to us. Bryce was the soccer team’s captain and recruited heavily. The school needed that attention. And I just didn’t care. The school knew that and had given up on me a long time ago. They just wanted me to continue attending school and classes. At least, that’s what their school counselor had confided in me once.
“I don’t, but it’s a big practice tonight. I don’t want my coach more worked up than he needs to be, you know.”
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Understanding finally dawned on me and I felt like smacking myself in the head.
This was the beginning of Scout Week. Those same recruiters and more were visiting the school’s teams. They came to the practices, games, and talked with the families.
“Which ones are coming to your practice?” I asked and I saw I was right. A
flicker of tension passed in Bryce’s eyes.
I moved closer and slipped my arms around him. I looked up and grinned, “Which ones?”
He hugged me back, slowly, and murmured, “Brown. Stanford. And Florida.”
“And you want Brown, right?”
“Yeah.”
Just then, someone pounded on the door again. It stopped after someone hissed,
“Bryce and Sheldon are in there. Ssshh!”
There weren’t any more interruptions.
Bryce chuckled in amusement, but he shook his head a moment later.
A discreet knock sounded at the door and Mr. Sayword murmured, “Uh…Mr.
Scout and Sheldon, the principal requests your presence in his office. Please finish your developing as soon as possible.”
Bryce cracked a grin as I laughed.
“We’re almost done, Mr. Sayword,” I called back.
Bryce murmured, his hand at my back as we moved outside, “He seems cool.”
I flashed a grin to my teacher who’d moved back behind his desk.
“Yeah. He is.” I waved to Mr. Sayword as we moved into the hallway.
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Before we got to the main office, we both saw Corrigan in the hallway, hunched over an open locker.
“Seriously, dude.” Bryce clapped a hand on his shoulder.
Corrigan jumped around, eyes wide, and nudged the locker shut with his heel.
When he saw it was us, he relaxed.
“Jeez. Don’t do that!” he hissed and opened the locker again. He was on a
mission.
“Don’t you ever go to class?” I asked.
“Not if I can help it,” Corrigan muttered.
“Whose locker?” Bryce reached inside and plucked a book out. He opened the
cover and read, “Theodore Campbell.”
Theodore
Campbell?
I said lazily, “That’s Teddy. I just met him. He’s in my art class.”
“Yeah, well, he’s going down.” Corrigan mumbled as he looked through Teddy’s bag.
“What are you doing?”
“He spray-painted ‘Greco’ on my car. The douche is going down. I’m looking for his keys.”
“Greco? What does that mean?”
“I don’t know, but it’s on my car,” Corrigan growled. Corrigan never growls. In fact, a serious Corrigan was a rare event.
“What are you going to do?”
“Steal his car and give it to Hoodum.”
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“Isn’t that excessive?”
Hoodum ran the local gang. They specialized in the economics of refurbished