"Sounds like you had a pretty good save though," Andie said, waggling her eyebrows at me. "Crispin came to your rescue, didn't he?"
"I guess," I muttered. "I just wish I hadn't gone."
"You know, Pandora tried out to be cheerleader," Andie confessed.
"Yeah? How did that go?"
"Not so great," Andie laughed. "She didn't get accepted, and she was so sad about it."
"Well, at least she got into the chess club," I muttered.
Andie stopped in the middle of the hallway, giving me a curious look and asking, "How did you know about that?"
"You mentioned it once," I said. "She was really good at chess, right?"
"Yeah," she muttered, giving me a surprised look. "I don't remember telling you about that."
"Okay. I may have done some research on Pandora myself."
"You have?"
"Yeah." I shrugged, a guilty smile passing my face. "It's kind of intriguing. Sorry, I don't mean to upset you. I just want to know what happened."
"As do I. It just seems like I'm the only one who still cares. The only one still looking."
"I'm sure your parents care, too." I tried to console her.
"Not as much as I do," she muttered, and I realized I'd been poking a wasp's nest, so I quickly changed the topic.
We talked about a TV show we both liked as we walked toward my locker. A moment later I came to a stop, raising my eyes to find a crowd gathering before us in the hallway. "What's going on there?"
Andie followed my gaze to the snickering crowd, taking photos. She shrugged. A sinking feeling made my stomach drop, and I walked toward my locker, fearing the worst. The moment I saw what they had done, I wanted to vomit. It wasn't enough they'd played a horrible prank on me the previous day, now they'd decided to take it even further. There it was, in hot-pink writing sprayed on my locker. Just one word, but it hurt enough to make my stomach churn with anxiety.
Homewrecker.
I stood among the crowd that had gathered in front of my locker. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. Students who took pictures, now included my face in their shots.
I was barely aware of Andie rushing to my side, grabbing my hand, and snapping at the crowd. "Would you get lost before I beat your asses? I'm serious! I took kickboxing in grade school!"
After some grumbling, the crowd slowly dispersed, but I still felt panicked and nervous.
"They don't need to know I took kickboxing when I was twelve," Andie muttered in my ear before coming to stand in front of me, blocking my vision of the ruined locker. "Hey, you okay, Tins? It's nothing, don't worry about it."
"I just-" I muttered, nervously chewing my bottom lip. "I just don't understand why they'd be so cruel. I just don't get it."
"It's high school. It doesn't have to make sense for these idiots to think it's amusing. I'm sorry, babe. We'll get it off."
I took a step forward, running my finger over the spray paint. "I doubt it'll come off that easily."
"Well, I'll help you." She seemed determined. "I'm going to go to the supply closet on the second floor and get some cleaning stuff. You want to come with me or wait here?"
"Wait here, I guess.”
Andie squeezed my hand before disappearing up the marble staircase. It was lunchtime, and most of the students were gathered in the cafeteria. I was pretty sure everyone had seen my locker already. How fucking embarrassing. By the time Andie came back, I was more angry than sad though. If they wanted to pick on me, fine. I was going to go up against them all and destroy them. Nobody messed with Tinsley Sullivan.
Andie and I got to work. She brought a bucket that we filled with cleaner and some rags we started soaking in the solution. We scrubbed at the word for what felt like hours, making my hands sore and stingy. The sign was coming off, but it was tough to remove every trace of the nasty word that stained my locker. And as we worked in silence, people started filling the hallways again, making me feel even more self-conscious about what we were doing.
"Tins, what happened?"
I turned around from my kneeling position, groaning inwardly when I saw Estella standing before me with her posse. Some of the snickering cheerleaders were there, along with nervous-looking Inca. And of course, Crispin stood to Estella's side, as handsome as ever, making all the blood rush to my cheeks. He still wore his lacrosse jacket, the fabric stained with paint from last night. God, why did that give me butterflies? It didn’t mean anything.
I realized with a startle that I hadn't even called Estella after what had happened last night. I just knew she'd play off the whole thing, pretending it was nothing.
"Well, some of your lovely cheerleader friends decided it would be funny to pick on Tins," Andie spoke up, throwing her rag in the bucket and making the soapy water splash. She came to stand next to me, crossing her arms and glaring at the group gathering before us. "I wonder who told them to do that," Andromeda finished, giving Estella a pointed look.
"Are you suggesting I had something to do with this?" Estella scoffed, with an incredulous expression on her face. "Tins, surely you don't believe her. You know I'd never do anything to hurt you."
I stayed quiet, not knowing what to say or who to trust, and it made her roll her eyes.
"Well, if you think that about me, I guess you don't get me at all," Estella said with a murderous gaze aimed at Andromeda. "I guess you've decided your other friends are more worthy."
"No, I didn't," I finally replied. "But you're the one just standing there, while Andie's been helping me get this off for the past twenty minutes." I could tell she felt the sting of my words, but she just blinked, staring at me without making a move to help.
"This is ridiculous," Crispin spoke up, pulling up his paint-splashed sleeves before glancing at the cheerleaders who were now laughing. "You should be ashamed of yourselves."
"Why?" Harlem, the main cheerleader spoke up with a big grin. "We had our fun. You know there's going to be some hazing when someone like her comes to the school."
"This isn't hazing," Andie reminded her. "This is just being a douche because you can. But you're not going to get away with it."
"No?" Harlem snickered. "If I recall correctly, you have my father to thank for the west wing of the school, so I think we just might."
"Just stop," Crispin muttered, glaring at the girl and making her recoil. "You're making yourself look bad, Harlem." Before I could stop him, he came to stand next to us, grabbing one of the wet rags and starting to rub the graffiti still visible on my locker.
"But Crispin," Estella whined. "We're supposed to get some sun in the bleachers."
"You go ahead," Crispin muttered.
Estella laughed easily before an uncomfortable expression crossed her face, realizing she wasn't going to get her way. She glanced at me again, and this time, I didn't see any of the warmth I was used to from her. She was angry because Crispin had picked me in her eyes, and he’d done it in front of her friends. Before I could do anything, she rushed away, linking her arm with Harlem's. I watched them leave before picking up my own rag and joining Crispin and Andie at my locker.
"Thanks, guys," I muttered, giving them grateful smiles and hoping my blush wasn't too bad when I glanced at Crispin. "I'd be so lost without you."
"That's what friends are for," Crispin muttered, giving me a long look.
It took us the rest of the lunch break to get the word off, and by the time we finished, my hands were sore as hell.
"I'll clean this up," Andie said, motioning to the bucket and the water we'd spilled. "You guys have the next class together anyway, right?"
"Right," I muttered, barely able to hide my smile at her not-so-subtle winks in my direction.
"Come on," Crispin said, picking up my bag and handing it to me. "We're going to be late if we don't hurry."
I took my bag from him, and we started our trek to the east wing of the school where Professor Mulroney's class was held.
"Thanks for doing that," I muttered as we walked
across campus. "You really didn't have to."
"I kind of did. I don't like it when people pick on you."
"You prefer doing that yourself?"
"It is fun to push your buttons."
"Maybe for you."
"I don't seem to be the only one. Maybe you just need to build up a thicker skin and not seem like you care so much. You're the easiest target right now, Tins. They're going to keep picking on you, even if Andromeda and I keep defending you."
"I guess," I muttered when we reached the classroom. "Hey, Crispin?"
He stopped after waving to a friend of his, glancing down at me. "What's up?"
"Thanks. For sticking up for me. You know, in front of Estella."
"Well. She's not always right."
"Just most of the time." I giggled.
He grinned before heading into the classroom. I took the seat in front of him and this time, ignored the cat calls and whispers of our classmates.
Crispin was right.
I needed to be stronger.
By the time I got home from school and got a new phone at the mall, I was exhausted, and my day was just getting started. I still had an appointment to go to, and I was feeling less than ecstatic about it. I was setting up my new phone, but I only had a couple of minutes before we had to leave. I’d lied to Mom about wanting the latest iPhone, and if she knew something else was up, she didn’t mention it. I almost wished she would.
"Darling, you need to get ready," Mom called out from the kitchen when I got home. "We leave in ten. I don't know what they were thinking scheduling your visits so soon after school."
"Coming.” I met Mom downstairs, giving her a quick hug while she grabbed her car keys.
"You look nice. How was school? Any more trouble with those girls?"
"No," I lied through my teeth. Lies, lies, lies. "Everything was fine," I went on, giving her a bright grin. "I'm just a little tired, that's all."
“How’s the new phone?”
“Great.” I flashed her my iPhone. “So much better than the last one. Thanks, Mom.”
“Maybe you can give your old one to me. Mine’s getting a bit glitchy.”
“Oh, um…Why don’t you get a new one as well?”
“You don’t want me to have yours?”
“I just…” I swallowed thickly. “Kinda promised it to a girl at school. She has a super old phone. She’s on a scholarship.”
“Oh,” Mom nodded. “Well, of course then, give it to her.” She always was a sucker for a charity case, just like Estella. Thanks for unknowingly coming to my rescue, Inca. "Well, don't worry," she said with a smile. "I’ll just keep my old one. We'll be there in twenty, and you can talk to Dr. Morton about everything that's been troubling you."
"Great," I muttered, following her outside to the car. Inside, I buckled up and scrolled through my phone while we drove to the institution. It wasn't exactly a secret that I'd spent my summer in the Lindsay Home for Troubled Teens. It was a high-end facility, one frequented by either people with money, or kids with rich parents. My experience in the home had been colorful, to say the least.
I wasn't exactly excited about going back weekly for therapist appointments, but I wasn't really upset about it, either. I'd accepted that I needed the help, and now I was grateful for it. But I knew how guilty it made Mom feel.
"You sure you're going to be okay?" she asked once we pulled up in front of the home. "I just hope this isn't too hard for you."
"Of course," I reassured her. "Go run your errands and pick me up when you're done, okay?"
"Okay. Call me if you need anything, all right?"
I nodded, waving as I got out of the car.
Mom pulled away, and I stood in front of Lindsay's with a sinking feeling in my stomach. But deciding I had to get this over with, I pulled my shoulders back and sauntered into the building with a big grin on my face.
Dr. Morton was already waiting for me in his office and invited me inside when I knocked on the door. He gave me a warm smile, coming over to shake my hand when I walked in.
"Ah, our child wonder," he said affectionately. "Sit down, Tinsley. Make yourself comfortable."
I thanked him, slipping off my oversized denim jacket and taking a seat on his plush armchair. I was pretty sure he kept those around because they made patients so relaxed that they were more than willing to spill all of their secrets.
"How has your week been?" he asked, grabbing a notepad and a pen. "Tell me everything." I briefly described Wildwood, mostly sticking to non-personal things about the school. It was always difficult for me to open up to doctors at first. "And what about Estella?" he asked. "She must be excited you're at the same school."
I'd spent plenty of time over the summer talking about my best friend, so he was familiar with her. But now, I found myself shrugging as I muttered, "Sure doesn't seem like it." I didn't elaborate, and he didn't ask me to. That was my favorite part about Dr. Morton—he never pushed me further than I wanted to go.
"Have you met anyone else at school?" he asked next, and I nodded.
"I made a friend. I like her a lot."
He nodded his approval.
"Unfortunately for me..." I heaved a deep sigh. "Crispin Dalton also goes to the same school."
"The boy who—"
"Yes," I cut him off before he could finish. "The very one."
Dr. Morton raised his eyebrows, wondering out loud, "And how is that going?"
"It's disastrous, as expected," I rolled my eyes. "I just can't seem to help myself around him."
"What do you mean?"
Afraid I'd already said too much, I took a moment to mull over my words. "He's very intense. He seems to think he owns Wildwood."
"That's a bold statement," Morton said with a grin. "You think he's right in thinking so?"
"I don't know. Everyone does what he says over there. It's like he's their God or something."
"And that bothers you?"
"Not really. I just..."
Wanted to be his. Wanted to kiss him. Wanted him to pick me instead of my best friend.
"I just want him to leave me alone," I finally finished, hating myself for yet another lie. With each one I told, they slipped past my lips easier.
Morton gave me a long, inquisitive look, making a note on his pad, but not saying a word except for, "I see."
The rest of the session, we mostly talked about how I'd been feeling. I was surprised to find I was doing much better than I had been over the summer. Dr. Morton even complimented me, and this time I chose to believe him. I had come a long way.
"I wish I stood out at Wildwood," I finished my speech. "You know, in the good kind of way. Right now, I'm just a pariah.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
I twisted my hands on my lap, scowling at the doctor. He was handsome, with salt-and-pepper hair and thick-rimmed tortoiseshell glasses. I had tried to hate him. But Dr. Morton was genuinely nice and eager to make me feel better, so he made that a little difficult.
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “Helpless, I guess.”
He nodded, again jotting something on his notepad. “You feel helpless a lot, don’t you, Tinsley?” he asked knowingly.
“Maybe,” I muttered. I didn’t want to answer any more questions. I was done playing doctor and patient. “You know, I think I left here a little too soon.”
“Too soon?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “How so?”
“I shouldn’t be going to Wildwood at all. I should still be homeschooled, just taking things one day at a time. Not being thrust in this situation where…where things are only getting worse and worse.”
“Well, I can understand your concern,” Dr. Morton said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “But I think going back to school, something we call exposure therapy, will actually be good for you. It’s a cruel world out there, Tinsley.”
“Don’t I know it,” I muttered just as the clock ticked to the end of our session. I got up, running
a hand through my long hair.
“The color still hasn’t washed out?”
I looked down into Dr. Morton’s eyes. “I don’t want it to,” I told him. “I don’t want to be a blonde again.”
“Well, purple suits you,” he told me with that picture-perfect grin.
“Thanks,” I muttered, glancing at my reflection in the mirror that hung behind him. I took a step closer to the reflective surface, my fingers absent-mindedly running through my mass of hair. I’d insisted on keeping my hair the way it was. Imperfect. Just like me.
“What do you see, Tinsley?” Dr. Morton’s cryptic voice made me study myself harder.
I was still pretty, in a girl-next-door way. It may have been enough for my acting career, but I wasn’t certain it would ever be enough in real life. “I’ll never be as beautiful as her,” I muttered.
“Who?”
I shot him a helpless look. I didn’t want to tell him more. After all, me going there was just a farce. A show. A front I had to put up for the media. They’d had a field day with me. It was shocking how fast I’d fallen from grace. From the nation’s sweetheart to the resident crazy bitch in mere months. I was talking about Estella, of course.
I’d never look like my sexy, voluptuous friend. I was doomed to be the cute all-American girl. I’d never have Estella’s body, her confidence, or her easy, carefree nature. And I’d never have Crispin, either.
“It doesn’t matter,” I murmured, and watched Dr. Morton make another note on his pad. “Can I go now?”
“You must be excited to see Baby.”
“I am,” I replied, this time finally being honest. “I’ve missed her so much.”
“She’ll be so happy when you reunite,” Morton said with a smile.
He signed my permission slip, noting that I’d made my visit as scheduled. I felt a weight drop off my shoulders as I made my way out of his office, waving goodbye.
Free at last.
Boys That Tease: A Bully Romance (Lords Of Wildwood Book 1) Page 14
