by A. R. Perry
His eyes tick between mine as his jaw muscles flex. He says nothing for a long time, enough time to make me super uncomfortable. When he lets out a long breath that deflates his shoulders, I know I’ve won.
“Here.” I hand him the folded piece of paper.
He takes it without complaint, unfolding it until my words are visible. With brows furrowed, he stares at the words that lay out my plan for our arrangement. I can see his eyes moving over the words only to jump to the top and start over. And that’s when I feel like a complete ass. We’ve talked about it. It’s the whole reason I’m tutoring him and I spaced on the fact that he’s dyslexic and has a hard time reading.
I go to reach for the paper, planning on reading it out loud, but he pulls away.
“What is this?” His attention lingers on the paper.
“Rules. For our tutoring sessions.”
“Oh…kay.” He steps back, running a hand through his hair. “So is the park agreeable for you?”
Feeling generous, I nod. “Sure.”
“Cool.” He stuffs the paper into his pocket. “Then we can discuss the rest there. Since you don’t want to lie, we should get out of here.”
I move out of the way as his hand finds the handle. As he hops inside, I circle around to the passenger side. The second my fingers touch the handle the lock activates. After giving it a try, I confirm what I thought. Braden locked the damn door.
“Sorry,” he yells loud enough for me to hear him through the glass. “We’re not friends. I only give friends rides. So I guess enjoy the bus.”
The engine revs and I stumble back right as he pulls forward and out of the spot.
You have got to be shitting me.
I half expect him to stop and tell me he’s just messing with me, but when the SUV maneuvers out onto the road, I know he’s serious. That jackass ditched me when I went out of my way to make sure he doesn’t fail his stupid class.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what you get for helping out an egotistical douchebag.
Two weeks since I agreed to be Braden’s tutor once again. He’s passed every quiz and even managed a B on his latest paper with the bare minimum from me. Mrs. Rivera is nowhere closer to finding my replacement. And Braden is still making me take the bus to and from the park, refusing to pick a different location even after I start the session every Tuesday and Thursday with a complaint. His reaction is the same every time. A smug expression passes over his face before he grins and tells me, “I only give rides to friends.”
I’ve come close to punching him. Then my brain shifts and I think of all the ways I could screw him over and allow him to fail thus ending my torturous duty as his tutor.
Too bad I have a soft heart buried deep, deep down under all my snark.
“Hey.” A body leans on the locker next time mine as I’m tossing my scarf inside.
Orange leaves do not mean crisp weather. Wishful thinking on my part.
I glance to the side. Braden is chewing on his lips, his eyes scanning the hall. He’s breaking the rules. People aren’t supposed to know we spend time together. I’m supposed to be invisible, and he’s supposed to remain Mr. Popular.
“What?” I snap under my breath as I busy myself with unloading my backpack.
“I…um…” He tugs at the blue flannel shirt I’m desperately trying not to focus on because when I do I notice how it makes his eyes glow.
“What’s going on?”
“I can’t—”
“Braden!” An annoyingly high-pitched voice interrupts what he was about to say. His gaze darts over my shoulder and he stands straight, leaning away from me.
“Hey, Michelle?”
I try not to grimace, but judging by the expression on Braden’s face, I do a crappy job.
Michelle inserts herself between us, pushing me with her bony elbow and knocking my backpack off my shoulder. Books spill everywhere and I come close to spilling my coffee. Girl would have signed her own death warrant if that happened. I haven’t even taken two sips.
“I was looking for you. I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Braden’s jaw flexes. He makes a move toward me, but I wave him off. I don’t need his help. Hell, I don’t want it. Not in the hallway. Too many eyes. Too many ways it could be spun into a rumor that does me little justice.
“What is it, Michelle?” His friendly tone is gone, replaced by one I’ve never heard before. Even when he was pissed at me.
Goes to show I made a smart move when I swore off guys. If they can go from lovey-dovey to screw you that fast with someone like Michelle, I wouldn’t stand a chance.
Damn it. Now that picture of him is in my head again. I shake it out as I stand, books balanced over my forearm.
“Not here.” Michelle sends a dirty look over her shoulder.
Okay, bitch, you’re only at my locker. I almost roll my eyes, but think better of it. Staying under the radar means staying off everyone’s radar.
The bell rings, saving us all from what I can only assume would be an awkward conversation.
“Lunch then.” Michelle, stretches up on her tippy-toes and plants a kiss on his cheek, leaving a glittery outline of her pouty mouth when she pulls away.
She struts away, swaying her hips in such an overly dramatic fashion I’m amazed she doesn’t dislocate something.
Braden sighs next to me, scrubbing a hand down his face to wipe away her lip gloss before focusing on me. I slam the door with an elbow as I reach down for my backpack.
I expect Braden to say something or walk off, instead he keeps pace at my side as we head to English. A few eyes shift in our direction and I’m positive there will be fresh gossip come lunch. The only thing I can hope for is that it will be overshadowed by whatever Michelle wants to talk to him about.
Fingers crossed for a gigantic blowup in the middle of the cafeteria.
Maybe she’ll grovel and he’ll turn her down. A super mean thought, but it would be juicy enough to make me invisible again. At least until Braden has a new tutor, then I will zip back down to no one town where I’m comfortable.
“So—” Braden grabs ahold of my bicep, but drops it like I’m on fire.
Two seconds later I realize why.
“Di-Mar-Co!” Jesse yells, breaking up Braden’s last name into three as he cups his hands around his mouth and does a weird shoulder bounce.
And here we see the douchebag in his natural habitat. You would think he was working on some kind of mating call meant only to attract those who spend their weekends drinking and fawning over every guy who plays a sport with a ball.
Jesse’s type as of late.
“Hey, J.” Braden takes a step backward and runs his fingers through the front of his hair, giving it more volume.
As if it needed it.
“What’s up, Stell?” Jesse cocks an eyebrow and throws me a smirk. “I like your shirt.” He pinches the black knit fabric on my shoulder. “It does a good job of hiding your back fat.”
I do my best not to snarl at him. But, man, does he get under my skin. It’s as if he’s only happy when he’s shoving me down. “Oh my God, I’m fat. How will I ever have known without you pointing it out?”
“Dude.” Braden shoulders Jesse, but it does nothing to dissuade him.
“Seriously. Does half of your paycheck go to the pastry counter at work? Maybe you should get a job at a gym. Might convince you to work out once in your life.”
Seconds away from launching into Jesse, Braden shoves him hard from behind. “Stop being a dick.” Braden sends me an apologetic look as he walks by. “Class. Go.”
Jesse mumbles a complaint as they walk through the door. I linger, taking a deep breath as I lean against the wall.
“Everything okay here?”
When I glance up Mr. Thatcher standing a few feet away. I’m not sure how much he’s overheard, but I don’t need him getting involved. All he will do is send us to the principal and make things a hell of a lot worse.
&nb
sp; “Fine.” I straighten and throw my shoulders back.
He gives me a look. One that says he doesn’t believe me at all, which makes me think he overhead part of our conversation. If he ends up going to Principal Sawyer, my life will become a living hell.
“Just messing around with the guys.” I smile so wide, my cheeks cramp and it seems to do the trick because Mr. Thatcher shrugs and motions for me to enter the room.
With no other choice but to follow his instruction, I walk inside. Really, I would prefer to not be in the same room with Jesse right now.
He’s in his normal spot, a jock chaser on either side of him clad in their getup of clothes that could be painted on, laughing as if he’s the funniest guy in the world.
Spoiler. He’s not.
His eyebrow arches when he catches me looking his way. No doubt he thinks I’m still hot for him. The ego on the guy has only grown over the past few years.
I refocus my attention on the chipped wood of my desk while trying to reel in the impulse to go on a screaming rant about how much of a dick he is and how he kisses like he’s trying to eat your stomach. That would scare the ladies off for a little while. Not permanently because the girls at my school seem hell-bent on ending up at the café being dumped for a taste of the high life. The high life in this case being arm candy for the jocks.
I guess everyone needs goals.
Dropping my backpack on the ground, I slump into my chair, pulling my hood up around my neck and resist the urge to slip an earbud in to get lost in music. With my luck, Mr. Thatcher would call on me and I would give Jesse more ammunition to pester me.
A burning sensation works its way up my neck. Much like the first day, I can feel the weight of someone’s gaze on the back of my head. I really, really, want to turn around and confirm it’s Braden for no other reason than sick curiosity. I could have sworn I saw genuine anger in his eyes when Jesse was laying into me. But as he loves to remind me, we aren’t friends so I’m not sure why he cares.
Deep down, I find the strength to pay attention to class and keep my eyes forward. It’s not easy. Every few seconds I get a rush of adrenaline when the sensation I’m being watched never fades. All throughout class. At this rate, Braden will end up failing English for sure. I’ll have to scold him about it later when we’re alone.
When the bell rings, I take my time packing up my things, giving assface and the other kids ample opportunity to head out so I’m not caught in another infuriating conversation.
Someone brushes by me as I bend down to grab my bag. Out of the corner of my eye I see a hand drag against the surface of my desk, leaving a white folded piece of paper behind. A flannel-clad back retreats through the door.
What the hell?
I reach for the piece of paper and unfold it. Braden’s messy handwriting fills the top corner. What’s with him and notes?
Can’t make tutoring 2night.
Is that what he was trying to tell me? A part of me is thankful that I have the night off. Homework has been piling up and most nights I find myself awake past midnight getting it done. Another part of me is curious why he canceled. If it’s a date or something I am going to be pissed.
I shove the paper in my backpack and bolt out the door with my bag still half-zipped, hoping to catch him before the bell rings. I’m greeted with a sea of students trying to make their next class after no doubt talking away most of their time. See, our school has an annoying tardy policy. Three lates and you have detention to make up the time. Which is why I should be headed to my next class. Instead, I turn in the opposite direction and scan the halls.
No such luck.
I guess I can catch him at lunch or during bio. He won’t be able to run from me when we’re stuck sitting next to each other.
By the time lunch rolls around, I’m starving and I have to pee so bad my bladder might explode since I wasted time between first and second. Then Ms. Caldwell needed to speak with me after class about an extra credit assignment I had signed up for before the whole tutoring disaster. And since I hate drawing extra attention, I decided against using the hall pass.
I bolt down the hallway, trying my best not to crash into anyone as I beeline for the ladies’ room. Never again. I have five minutes of peace between classes and I won’t waste it on Braden. I’m not even going to waste my lunch on him. If he wants to fail, that’s on him.
The second I lock the stall door laughter fills the room.
“So we’re in his truck and he just starts pawing at me. I don’t know what kind of maneuver he was trying but at no point did it feel like anything other than a cat batting around a ball of yarn. My poor boobs are still sore.”
More laughter.
“I guess Braden is hard to top.”
“Screw Braden.”
Ah. Now I recognize Michelle’s voice. I peek out through the crack between the door and the wall. I can barely make out Michelle standing at the sink, applying lipstick. There are other girls with her, but I can’t make out who.
“Oh come on. You still totally have the hots for him.”
“No. I don’t. He’s hot, but that’s about all he has going for him. Sure, I was pissed when he dumped me, but honestly, I was happy to be out of that relationship. He’s got a lot of drama I don’t want to deal with. He has two very different sides and mopey Braden isn’t something I can deal with on the regular.”
I chew on my lip. I don’t want to stand here and listen to this. Not that I haven’t been a part of my share of gossip, but for some reason it’s making me feel dirty. But now I’m stuck because if I step out now they will know I’ve been sitting in here listening.
“And now he’s got that loser hanging on him like he’s her meal ticket out of no one town.”
I suck in a surprised gasp. Shit. I back away from the door, rising onto the toilet so no one can see my feet and pray no one heard me.
Guess the girls couldn’t hear me over their own egos because they carry on without a pause.
“Right? You’d think he would be at least trying to top you. This is just sad.”
“Maybe he had a mental breakdown. I’ve heard that can happen.”
“He’s probably trying to please Mommy.”
“His mom wouldn’t know him from a stranger on the street. She’s back in the hospital again. You’d think they would put her out of her misery.”
What the hell?
My foot slips off the edge of the seat as it slides sideways under my weight. I crash into the wall with a bang. There’s no way they didn’t hear that.
The gossip stops and after a few seconds where I hold my breath and pray mixed in with a whole bunch of silent swears, heels click on the tile floor headed in my direction.
Cover’s blown, I guess.
Tightening the straps on my backpack, I step down. There’s no escaping this run-in. With a deep breath I fling open the door.
Michelle’s scowl greets me. Hovering behind her at the sink are Casey and Janelle, her two best friends. They travel everywhere together. Except for the café when Michelle got her heart broke and the few days after when she was hiding out during lunch. Apparently best friend status doesn’t roll over if popularity is in jeopardy.
“Really?” Michelle flings her hair over her shoulder. “Spying? Kind of pathetic, don’t you think? I mean, if you want to know what people think about you, all you have to do is ask.”
I swallow so hard my throat cramps. This right here is exactly what I was afraid of. Freshman year all over again.
Michelle eyes me up and down as if I’m some disgusting bug that crossed her path. “Nothing to say, loser? Well, I have a few choice words for you. Stay away from Braden. Not that you would ever have a chance with him, but he doesn’t need your particular brand of pathetic rubbing off on him. He’s going places, and you, babe, aren’t going anywhere. Well, except maybe Weight Watchers.”
My gaze darts to the other girls. They smirk and shoot each other a glance before pulling out their phones.
“Let me give you some advice. Stay in your own class. You don’t want another repeat of freshman year, do you?” She places a hand on my shoulder, her pink stiletto nails digging in. “Looks to me like that kind of stress took a toll on you physically. And well, you can’t risk another fifteen pounds, can you? Need to save those up for your first year of college.”
My eyes sting, but I hold the tears back, grinding my molars together so I don’t say something and make things worse. Although right now all I want to tell her is this right here was probably the reason Braden dumped her ass. She may be pretty to look at, but her true colors are showing and Michelle Bryant is as ugly as they come.
“So we’re clear? Because if not, I’m sure a few people around here still have evidence of your epic fail. Would kind of suck if those photos got rereleased, wouldn’t it?” She gives me a sweet smile as she takes a step back. “Well enjoy the rest of your lunch!”
With that she leaves with her two minions close in tow.
I fall against the sink, bracing on the cold porcelain with trembling hands. Crap. I shake my head, trying to clear the thunderclouds that have taken over my mind. Only a few more months of this crap and then it’s off to college. If it means staying on the Bitches of East High’s good side as a means to an end, then whatever.
After splashing cold water on my face, I gather myself and exit into the deserted halls. Lunch ends in ten minutes, but I don’t think I have the mental fortitude to go to the cafeteria. Michelle will be there and there’s no doubt she’s already regaled her table with our run-in. All I need now is a Jesse cherry on top of an already craptastic sundae.
Without thinking about it, my feet carry me to the front doors. Screw it. My grades are high enough that I can miss a few classes. And since Mom knows what went down before, she’ll have no issues signing an excuse letter saying I was sick or had an appointment.
I race down the front steps toward the parking lot, taking a shortcut to the road where I can catch the bus. Normally, it’s so crowded with cars coming and going I have to walk around, but since everyone is still in class or lunch, it gives me access.
