Scarlett White (7 page)

Scarlett had gotten home at nine o'clock and tried to begin finishing her homework, but her damned mother had interrupted her work with her usual talk about scholarships. Once her mother had passed out on the couch, Scarlett couldn't concentrate. She needed to get out of the house. She was sick and tired of looking at the same piece of paper. She was sick and tired of thinking of school. She was sick and tired of being sick and tired. So, she took a small walk outside. She had grabbed her hoodie on her way out the door and she had been in the process of pulling it over her curly ponytail when she heard it. She heard the sound of a girly, ditzy giggle, and then a musky, low moan.

She hadn't meant to eavesdrop. But they had been so loud. And why the hell were they outside? It was freezing, but then again when you're 'working out', the weather wasn't something you thought about.

And then she saw them. Two drunk or high—or both—teenagers were clearly having sex in the back of a black convertible with the top down. The girl was on top of the boy, humping him vigorously. The first and only thought that entered Scarlett's brain was,
Um…Gross.
In public? Really? Who did that anymore? Sluts.

Scarlett was walking by in a hurry, trying to banish the picture from her memory. And then she heard the girl scream, "Oh, yes! TRISTAN, YES! Oh, God!"

So, Tristan Cox was having sex in the back of his car with some whore, why was she so surprised?

"Fuck yeah, Malice," a husky male voice said.

"What?" the girl said without stopping her 'exercise'.

"Alice…I said Alice," Tristan tried to cover pathetically. But apparently Alice didn't care what he said because she just kept continuing her workout with her male partner.

And again why was Scarlett surprised to find out that the football captain was doing the head cheerleader? She knew it would happen eventually, just like every other clichéd high school romance story.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO END FLASHBACK XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Tristan rubbed his eyes, trying to make that damned light go away. When he realized the light wasn't going anywhere, he finally opened his tired eyes. He looked up at the blue nothingness in confusion. What was that? His ceiling wasn't blue; it was white. Why was his ceiling blue today? And then a fluffy, white, shapeless blob began floating over the wide sheet of blue color. What? That didn't make any sense. And then Tristan felt another body move against his and heard a feminine sigh from his side. He shot up and looked around. He was lying in his black convertible in front of Alice's house completely nude. And Alice was sleeping right next to him. What. The. Hell?

What had happened last night? He couldn't remember a single thing about what had gone on in this car the previous night. But he could smell that definite, significant scent of sex and instantly knew what had happened last night. Oh, my God. Had he really been that drunk to screw around with the head cheerleader, whom he despised so much? What had he been thinking? He couldn't believe he had done it. He had actually given into Alice's desires and fucked her.

Tristan hectically untangled himself from Alice's body and began searching for his clothes. He found his pants and pulled them up his legs as he crawled into the front seat of his car. He turned the key in the ignition and looked at the digital clock on the dashboard. 6:30 a.m. He had plenty of time before school started, but he smelt of an odor that wouldn't go well with the teachers and he didn't have time to shower. This was a disaster. He banged his head against the steering wheel of his car and accidentally sounded the horn.

"What the hell?" Alice screeched from the backseat. "Where am I—oh, yeah."

"What happened last night?" Tristan asked, not turning around to look at Alice. He was still completely in denial of having done what he did with Alice.

"I think you know what happened. You can practically smell it—no, wait, you
actually
can smell it," Alice said, strapping her bra around her chest. "What time is it?"

"Six thirty."

"Well, come inside. My older brother has clothes you can wear. That way you won't smell so much when we get to school," Alice said, throwing her dress over her head as she exited the car.

"Fine," Tristan mumbled.

Tristan followed Alice into the house, trying to recall any images from last night. He came up completely empty. He remembered picking Alice up. He remembered not wanting to take beer from her for some reason. He remembered sneaking into the club. He remembered dancing with Alice. He remembered talking with Ginny and the other two girls who were friends with Scarlett. He remembered taking a beer from Alice. And then he remembered why he wasn't supposed to take a drink from Alice: it was spiked. She had been trying to drug him last night to take complete advantage of him and she had succeeded.

"YOU DRUGGED ME!" Tristan yelled as he remembered it for the first time.

Alice turned around slowly, "Now what would give you such a silly idea?" she said with a mischievous smile playing around her lips as she continued down the hall to change into more appropriate clothing to wear to school.

"Kyle told me you were planning on spiking my drink. I never would have had sex with you if I hadn't been drugged," Tristan said, getting even more frustrated by the minute.

"Tristan, face it: you're the Golden Boy, I'm the Golden Girl, and together we're the Golden Couple. Can't you see it?"

"That's illegal, you dumbass," Tristan yelled.

"What's illegal?" Alice asked in the sweetest voice she could muster up.

"Spiking someone's drink without his knowledge."

"I did no such thing," Alice said.

"You're such a liar, Malice—" Tristan didn't know why he said it, but he thought it was pretty funny.

"Stop calling me that!" Alice yelled.

"Fine, I won't call you that if you'll stop calling me 'Trissy'," Tristan said, going high pitched when he spoke the ridiculous nickname.

"Fine!"

"Now, I'm going to leave and I don't want to talk to you for a while. So, just leave me alone!" Tristan yelled as he backed out of the house, still wearing the same smelly clothes.

"Tristan, wait—" Alice started.

"No," Tristan said over his shoulder as he made his way to his car and sped down the road.

He was mad beyond belief. He couldn't believe Alice would do such a bitchy thing. He couldn't remember a single thing after he had taken that drink from Alice at the club. But he could remember everything before that. Why had he accepted the drink anyways? Oh, he remembered being so tired and sweaty from all that dancing that he hadn't realized what Alice was doing. And that must have been a part of Alice's plan as well. She had gotten him so tired and sweaty and thirsty from all of that dancing, so that when they were done, he would say 'yes' to a nice, cold, tasty drink that she had spiked to get him into bed—or the back of his car.

Well, she better be on the pill because I'm pretty sure there wasn't a single condom in my car,
Tristan thought as he sped down the road, still angry with himself and with Alice at the same time. And his heartbeat quickened as he thought of Alice getting pregnant with his little baby. He didn't think he could stand it if Alice gave birth to his child. That would be horrible. If Alice got herself pregnant, so help him, God, he would go on a mad rampage and destroy the entire city from his furious anger.

This was just ridiculous. He couldn't believe he had been tricked into having sex with Alice. Tristan pulled into the school's parking lot with plenty of time to spare and stormed into the school, still enraged at everything that had happened.

Scarlett got out of the shower, and it was already seven o'clock in the morning. She didn't have enough time to blow-dry her hair and put it in its usual ponytail, so she decided to just braid it wet. She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed, thinking about the drawer that had been opened only once in about four years. Everyday she thought about opening that bottom drawer of her dresser. Everyday she thought about wearing the clothes her father had bought her so many years ago. Everyday she thought about showing the school what her body really looked like. Everyday she thought about walking into that school and enjoying the look of dropped jaws and popped open wide-eyes of her fellow, clueless classmates.

But what was the joy of that? Sure, it would be fun to see the shock and awe on everyone's face. Sure, it would be nice to walk around in the clothes she secretly loved, but denied herself the pleasure of wearing, so she wouldn't be reminded of her father. But that wouldn't help her get good grades. And it wouldn't help her get that scholarship she needed for her Ivy League college.

Scarlett sighed again as she looked down at her plain shirt and jeans; also known as: her usual wear. Her watch beeped, and she gasped as she realized she was running late. It was already seven fifteen. She only had fifteen minutes until school started, and it took about ten minutes to get to school. And if the traffic was bad…oh, shit.

It was about eight a.m., and Tristan was sitting in the back of his U.S. History class. This was such a boring class. He had no idea who had the sense to put this particular class as the first class of the day. No one was paying any attention to the professor who was rambling on and on about World War I, or was it II? Hell, it could have been a lesson on World War III, and Tristan wouldn't have known the difference. Everyone was either entertaining themselves in something more interesting or catching up on some much needed
Zzzz's
.

It was around eight twenty when the door burst opened, and a disheveled redhead skidded to a halt in front of the professor. "I-I'm so so-sorry for being late, Mr. Macgregor, but I o-overslept," Scarlett panted. "Um...my mother was...still sleeping, so I couldn't get her to write a note, but I will—"

"Enough," Mr. Macgregor silenced Scarlett with his palm. "Get a tardy slip and sit."

"A t-tardy slip? But, Mr. Macgregor, I have never
ever
been late for a single class in my entire life. Please, can't you just let me off with a warn—"

"Get a tardy slip and sit down now, Miss White," Mr. Macgregor ordered in a firm tone.

Scarlett hung her head and slowly walked over to the teacher's desk where she picked up a pink slip and stuffed it in her bag. She quietly walked to her desk and began taking notes on what the professor was lecturing about.

Scarlett was in Tristan's United States History class as well? Why hadn't he ever noticed this before? Was he really so oblivious?

Five minutes later, the bell rang, and all of the students quickly filed out of the classroom. He didn't know what made him do it, but Tristan came up behind Scarlett, "Hey."

Scarlett jumped from being startled, "Oh, it's you." Scarlett's bright green eyes narrowed. Tristan noticed her hair had loose strands flying about her face that had fallen out of the two braids she had done, as if she barely had any time to fix her hair properly. And he also realized that it wasn't in its usual ponytail.

"Yes, it's me—" he began.

"Well, I don't have time for your jokes and mockery today, Mr. Cox; I have to get to class on time."

"I wasn't going to mo—" But Scarlett was gone and out of sight before he could finish. What had he done to her in the past to make her act like this towards him?

Most of the time, Tristan wouldn't have given a crap about what others thought of him, though most thought he was a god, but, for some reason, he wanted to understand Scarlett's feelings and he didn't have a clue why.

In the past, he had just ignored her, but now he wanted to actually know her. And he didn't care about their different social statuses. Suddenly his previous fury about what Alice had done to him vanished, and an idea struck him. He was going to confront her. He was going to talk to Scarlett and find out what had happened between the two of them so many years ago.