by C. R. Jane
“Did you forget?” he whispers, invading my personal space to the point where I take a step back, right into Tanner.
“Forget what?” I ask, my mind mush under the circumstances. He leans in again until I’m practically sandwiched between the two of them. I can feel Jesse’s mocking smile as he watches the scene play out. I can’t believe that this is happening in the hallway, with what feels like a million people watching us, and no one has stepped in.
“Your name,” says Tanner from behind me, his lips brushing against my ear, sending shocks coursing all over my body.
It’s a weird thing the fact that I have these three enormous men around me, all of which could easily overpower me. And I feel strangely safe. Like I’m where I belong. Shaking off the dangerous thought, I squeeze myself from between them and start to walk down the hallway to my next class. I turn around when I’m far enough away not to be caught up in their spell. “Ariana,” I tell them with a wink that portrays far more confidence than I possess.
The next class passes in a blur. I come back to life when the bell for lunch rings. I’ve always hated lunch at new schools. Especially starting in the middle of the semester. Everyone has their spots and people all picked out. Which means I’ll end up either eating in the bathroom or at a table in the corner since no one will know me.
I walk into the enormous lunch room and just like I predicted, all the tables are full of bustling students who all know their place and where they fit into the hierarchy of the school. However, unlike other lunchrooms that I’ve seen, this one isn’t built around the football team or the basketball team. It’s built around them.
As a little girl, I’d been fascinated watching how the moths outside our trailer would swarm the front light at night. Watching how the entire lunch room swarmed around Jensen, Tanner, and Jesse felt like I was watching the same thing. They sat at a table in the middle of the room, lounging in their seats as if they were gods playing with their mortal subjects. Two of the girls from last night were sitting at the same table, but I noticed in an annoyingly satisfied way, that the guys didn’t seem to be paying them any attention. Instead they were huddled together, discussing something that everyone in the room seemed to want to know about.
Taking a deep breath, I walk into the lunchroom. I keep my head down even though I can feel the eyes of people drilling holes into the sides of my head. Perusing the options in the lunch line I’m dismayed to see that it’s just as bad as what I’m used to in school cafeterias. But I’m not going to turn down a free lunch. As I grab a slice of pizza and a salad and walk to the register, I say a silent prayer that the cafeteria worker won’t make a big deal out of me being in the free lunch program.
I get up to the register and am just about to open my mouth to tell her my lunch number when a Dr. Pepper and a Snickers gets plopped on my tray and a $10 bill gets thrown at the shocked cafeteria worker. Before I can even look at my benefactor an arm leads me back into the cafeteria room where literally everyone’s eyes are now on me. I look up and I’m shocked to see that Jesse is the one who has his arm around me.
He looks down at me, an impish twinkle in his eye. “I’m just showing you to the seat we saved for you.”
My mouth is frozen open and I’m unable to form words. Hopefully this reaction of mine isn’t something that’s going to continue indefinitely. I’m sure they would start to think I wasn’t right in the head if I never could say anything to them.
Jesse never moves his arm, even after he sits me down on the bench in between him and Jensen. After I set my tray down, he grabs the Dr. Pepper and somehow manages to smoothly open it with one hand.
I’m not sure what’s going on, so I do what I do best. Put my head in the sand and start to eat my salad while not making eye contact with anyone. No one talks to me, which doesn’t bother me at all. The guys chat over my head as if there’s nothing strange about the new girl sitting right in the middle of them. I happen to glance up while getting a drink of water and I see Amberlie making signals at me from a table across the way where she’s sitting with the football team and a bunch of other cheerleaders. She’s pretending to hyperventilate, and I struggle to hold in a smile about how ridiculous she looks.
“What’s making you smile like that, pretty girl?” whispers Jesse into my ear, sending a cascade of tingles down my whole body. I ignore his question but turn to look at him.
“What am I doing here?” I whisper.
“What do you mean?” he asks innocently.
“I mean...why am I sitting at your table right now? You don’t even know me.”
A kid across the table with jet black hair and a pierced eyebrow overhears our conversation and decides to pipe in. “Because he or one of the others wants to fuck you, obviously new girl,” he says.
I stare at him shocked, wanting to stand up and eat in the bathroom at this point.
“Tyson, feel free to leave the table,” says Jensen calmly. I think he’s joking but obviously goth boy doesn’t because his face starts to pale.
“Dude, seriously...” he begins, before Jensen speaks again.
“Don’t make me ask you twice,” he says in that same calm voice which I’m beginning to realize actually sounds so scary because it’s so calm. It’s like Jensen is lying in wait, trying to trick his prey into relaxing before he attacks.
Muttering to himself, goth boy aka Tyson, grabs his tray and throws the whole thing into the trash before stomping out of the room. The whole lunch room gets quiet after that, everyone eyeing our table warily. I realize that whatever just happened disrupted an established group and everyone is feeling a little out of sorts.
Finding bravery from somewhere, I turn to Jensen and Tanner. “So, was he right? Am I sitting here because you want to fuck me?” I ask. Both of them look a little shocked at my question, but Jesse starts laughing hysterically beside me. Tanner is the first to recover and he gives me a smooth, cool grin that takes my breath away for a second.
“Of course he’s right, Princess. Have you seen yourself?” he asks. “But I’m beginning to believe you’re not going to make it easy for us.”
His honesty knocks me over and I can’t think of anything to say. So, I continue eating. My nerves are jumping so much though that I can’t taste anything, and I feel like my skin is randomly twitching as I sit there. I feel pulling on my hair and I realize that Jesse has started to play with my hair like he did in History this morning. It catches me off guard at how touchy Jesse is considering he doesn’t know me. Even Jensen is sitting way too close to me for comfort. His leg is pressed up against mine, feeling far more intimate than I’m sure it’s intended. He’s just a big guy. All of them are.
The guys continue to talk around me, occasionally saying something to the people around us who are literally salivating to get any kind of scrap from them. Looking around at the rest of the table, everyone is beautiful. But they all pale in comparison to them.
When the bell rings, I realize that I haven’t eaten half of my food. Which is definitely unlike me since heaven knows if Terry and David will have any food for us to eat at home. When they do have cash, they prefer to spend it on liquid nourishment rather than actual food.
I pull out the schedule I was given this morning to see where I’m off to next. Before I can get a good look at it, it’s swiped out of my hands. I look up annoyed and see that Tanner is studying it.
“Yep, you’ve got class with me next, Princess,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me up. Jesse grabs my tray off the table and slips the Snickers in my pocket before walking away.
Tanner doesn’t let go of my hand until we’re in class and I’m seated with him next to me. I’ve been touched more today than I have my entire life I realize. I feel uncomfortable and itchy thinking about it, but at the same time I want more of it. I need more of it.
I try to listen as our English teacher begins to talk about Great Expectations, the book that the class is currently reading. It’s hard to concentrate however since Ta
nner has taken my hand and is now drawing doodles on the back of it. I try to pull it away, but he doesn’t give it back. Instead he smiles infuriatingly while pretending not to notice my efforts.
By the time the bell rings I’m convinced that I’m going to fail all my classes if any of the guys are in there. It’s a good thing that I’ve actually read Great Expectations at my old school or that pop quiz the teacher gave us at the end of class would have gone totally different. I’m not going to be so lucky next time. I see Amberlie down the hallway and lift my hand to wave, but she squeaks and runs away when she sees that Tanner is still walking next to me.
I finally turn to Tanner. “Ok, what gives? Is this some kind of lead up to a hazing ritual for the new girl? You guys have barely spoken a word to me all day but you’re buying me lunch, having me sit with you, sitting next to me in class… What are you planning?”
Once again, he boxes me into the lockers and I have to keep my eyes averted because I’m becoming convinced that his silver ones are capable of casting spells since I act like a fool whenever I look into them.
“Princess,” he says softly. I make the mistake of glancing up, and I wish I didn’t when Tanner’s teeth sink into his bottom lip. The air crackles with tension between the ten inches separating his mouth from mine. Shit. My pulse speeds up, and I’m sure if he looks close enough he’ll see it pounding in my throat. His gaze narrows into something not at all friendly, but scorching and predatory and nothing but heat. I’m hot with a newfound flush. He shakes. A tremble crosses his shoulders, and his eyes lose their crisp clarity for a snapshot in time. I push back so fast that I slam my head against the lockers, creating a loud bang that leaves people staring at us once again.
“Why do you keep calling me Princess?” I ask in an unsteady voice while staring steadfastly at his still too near lips.
“Because you’re as pretty as what I imagine a princess would look like,” he says. I scoff. “That’s the corniest line I’ve ever heard,” I tell him.
He leans in, whispering his lips across my ear. “It’s not a line,” he says before pushing back from me and striding away.
My legs shake all the way to my next class which is blissfully empty of any of them. My traitorous heart wishes otherwise though.
3
Now
I haven’t been able to get the concerts out of my head ever since Lucinda mentioned it. It doesn’t help that Sounds of Us songs are on constant repeat as the area ramps up for the concerts. Most of the radio stations have been advertising contests to get tickets to the sold out shows and my whole body has been twitching all day as I try to hold myself off from trying to enter one.
Days of this torture finally have worn me down and I find myself holding my phone, my palms sweating, as I listen to a radio DJ announce another contest. This one complete with backstage passes. There’s no way that I’ll win, but I suddenly can’t prevent myself from hovering above the phone keys.
“Alright, it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for, Caller 87 gets backstage passes to the Sounds of Us concert tomorrow night. All you have to do is call 1-800-254-KDIN. On your mark get set go!” the announcer crows.
I’m frozen for a moment in indecision and then my fingers are flying across my phone, typing in the radio station number that I’ve memorized from hearing the announcement for over a week. I hold my breath as the phone starts to ring. An automated voice tells me I’m number 52 so I hurriedly hang up and call again. This time it rings through.
“Congratulations you’re Caller 87! What’s your name?”
I hesitate, not understanding how this happened. I never win. I’m literally the unluckiest person on the planet as amply shown by the current state of my life.
“Ari,” I say with a stutter, choking on my name as if I’ve never said it before.
“Well Ari, how do you feel right now?” the announcer asks in that charming smooth voice that all radio DJs seem to possess.
The truth was I felt scared, nauseous, and weak at the moment, but I knew I couldn’t tell him that. “Excited,” I finally say in a voice that sounds about as far from excited as you can get. The interview is a little awkward after that since I’m not giving the announcer very much to work with. He finally finishes the interview and sends me to someone who collects my personal information for the tickets. I give a sigh of relief as I end the call.
I drive home in a daze, completely forgetting to drop off the clothes that Gentry needed to be dry cleaned. I hurriedly hide them in the trunk of my car, so Gentry doesn’t notice them when he gets home. I walk into the house and immediately head to the kitchen where I know I should be starting dinner. My mind is in a daze though. This doesn’t feel like real life at the moment. I’m trembling as I set my phone down on the counter.
I hear the garage door open just as I start to think about what I’m going to do. I flinch. There’s obviously no way that I’m going to be able to make up an excuse good enough to leave the house for the night. Gentry likes to know where I am at all times or there are severe consequences. I rub my still bruised cheek absentmindedly. I’m very familiar with Gentry’s consequences.
The sound of feet hitting the wood floor makes my muscles seize in awareness, my stomach turns over in revulsion.
“Ariana,” calls Gentry from the hallway where he’s just come in from the garage. I panic as he starts to walk towards the kitchen. I hurry and erase the numbers of the radio stations from my call log knowing that he’ll check my phone first chance he gets to see who I have talked to today. I’ve just set the phone down and walked over to the fridge to pretend like I’m preparing dinner when he walks in. I feel his shadow fall over my right shoulder. His heavy footsteps rock the floor beneath my feet as he approaches. I smell his cologne when he leans over my shoulder.
“Why didn’t you answer me?” he asks in an annoyed voice.
“I was trying to think of what to make for dinner and spaced out,” I tell him with a laugh that hopefully conveys “silly girl” rather than “I’m hiding something from you.”
He frowns, but let’s it go. I try not to cringe when he slides a kiss across my cheek. He of course makes no effort to avoid the bruised side and I swear there’s a triumphant glint in his eye when I flinch from the pressure he puts on the injury. He cages me into the counter for a long moment. I feel a trickle of sweat slide down my spine. He hums, the vibration right by my ear and I swallow the bile that rises up into my mouth. The humming. He knows that I know what the humming signifies. I grit my teeth together.
“I’ll put together some chicken and rice. It will be quick,” I tell him, desperate to distract him. I keep my eyes averted knowing that he likes for me to appear cowed in his presence. Meeting his eyes would present a challenge, a challenge that would only encourage him. I didn’t want his plans to include his favorite activity. He was a creature of habit: dinner, then television, then something to drink, then an attempt at me.
He slides two fingers down my back, over my tee shirt, pausing just before he reaches the top of my jeans. He enjoys this game, teasing me with the threatening promise of later. He loves holding all the power in this exchange.
“How about we go out?” he says. I look at him suspiciously. Gentry likes a schedule. For as long as I can remember Friday and Saturday have been nights we go out to eat. It’s Wednesday.
“You want to go out?” I ask stupidly.
“I have that business trip this weekend, so I thought we would celebrate our anniversary early,” he says, wrapping his arms around me.
I had completely forgotten about his trip. I had also completely forgotten about our anniversary. When you hate something so much, things like anniversaries don’t mean very much. I would probably remember my anniversary from now on however since the concert was that night. It’s like the universe has decided to smile at me all at once. I’ll be home alone all weekend. I won’t have to worry about getting away from Gentry.
The thought brings a smile to my face.
It’s a genuine smile and I realize that Gentry’s taken aback by my happiness, thinking that it has to do with us celebrating our anniversary. I’m not going to tell him differently.
“Go get a pretty dress on, sweetheart,” he says, trying to take advantage of the mood he thinks I’m in by going in for a kiss. Determined to keep him happy and off any potential scent of my plans for the weekend, I go with it, wanting to gag the whole time. I deliberately hide my face from him as I turn to go get dressed since I know that the look on my face is anything but pleasant.
Standing in my closet, I flip through the options, my mind going to what I’m going to wear to the concert instead of what I’m supposed to be picking out for dinner. I’m disgusted at the options in my closet. So much pink, so much paisley print. My jewelry box isn’t any better since it’s full of pearls. I can’t go to the concert looking like I just stepped off the stage of a southern beauty pageant. Gentry diverts my attention back to looking for a dress to wear for dinner when he yells up the stairs for me to hurry. I quickly grab a fitted pink cocktail dress that I know Gentry favors and I change. Squaring my shoulders, I coach myself that I can put on the show of the century tonight if it means getting to go to the concert tomorrow night.
Walking down the stairs, I pull at the strand of pearls around my neck. Gentry gave them to me last anniversary and I can’t help but think that they feel like a collar. The feeling is only reinforced by the possessive, satisfied look he always gets when I wear them. The pearls are a symbol of his ownership of me, and I hate them. If I ever get the chance to escape from this god-forsaken place, I’ll never wear a pearl again.
