“I changed my mind, I’m gonna teach him a lesson.”
I stood up to protest but dizziness hit me like a train and I almost fell over. Brady’s hand flew to my shoulder to steady me. “Can… you go get Mitchell?” I managed. My mind was suddenly very fuzzy, and I was getting dizzier. “I think I need to go.” My tongue felt wrong.
Brady said something, but I couldn’t hear it.
The strength in my legs was waning and the world was spinning a little. My vision blurred and faded at the edges.
He was almost completely holding me up now, and his eyes were wide as he spoke. I could tell he was yelling but I still couldn’t understand what he was saying. It sounded like he was underwater. A moment later, I registered hitting the ground and he was crouched over me, still yelling.
I blacked out.
***
When I opened my eyes again, I was looking up at a ceiling. There was a siren somewhere in the background, and I sat up quickly, only to instantly regret it. The headrush was severe.
“Be more careful, would you?”
I looked at Brady. “What the hell happened?”
“You got drugged, I think.”
Chills spread through my body, leaving me with a cold, empty feeling.
“Please don’t throw up like you did last time I told you.”
“What?”
“You passed out, like, three hours ago in my backyard, then woke up and threw up about an hour ago and passed out again. Try not to throw up this time, if you can.” He walked over to the bed I was lying on and looked down at me. “Do you feel okay?”
“I was drugged,” I repeated blankly.
“Yeah.”
“Um… What are the sirens?” I had only just become aware of them, and they weren’t helping my headache.
“Foster found the guy that drugged you.”
“… And?”
“And that’s an ambulance. No one’s gonna say it was Foster that beat him though; I doubt anyone wants to die that badly.” He caught sight of my face and quickly amended his statement. “He didn’t kill the guy. Just beat him pretty badly.”
I closed my eyes again. Tonight really was a disaster. I’d ruined his party and Foster had definitely helped. I’d only drunk from my water bottle, though, hadn’t I? “Sorry.”
“I swear to God, if you’re apologizing for being drugged, I’m going to let Foster in here.”
My eyes were open instantly and staring at the furious face of Brady. Jeez, I knew I screwed up the party, but why was he so angry? He could just throw another one, right? His blazing eyes almost made me flinch.
He took a deep breath then smirked a little, though the smile held no warmth to his face. “He does want to see you, though.”
“What?”
“Foster. He’s outside the door, likely listening.”
I groaned. “Just tell him I died.”
Brady laughed and stood up from his crouching position. “Well, I think you’re okay now. As long as you don’t pass out again. If you really want me to keep Foster out, I will.”
“I think he’ll break your door, so let him in, I guess.”
Foster opened the door instantly and stood there, sizing up Brady for a moment. Brady finally lifted an eyebrow and gestured toward me carelessly, stepping to the side slightly to show Foster he could pass him. Foster walked closer and let his eyes skim over me. “Are you okay?”
“Sure. I think I’m good, other than some bumps and cuts.”
“Bumps and cuts?” he repeated.
I sat up too quickly again and my body fell limp against the bed in response to the dizziness. Foster wrapped his arm around my lower back; I hadn’t even seen him move close enough to do that. He helped me sit up and glared at the bed.
“I didn’t beat him enough,” he growled.
“If he’s in an ambulance, I think you beat him too much.”
Foster smirked. “We’ve been talking for about a minute and you haven’t cussed at me.”
I snorted. “Go to Hell, Foster.”
He laughed and smiled at me, almost encouragingly. “There’s the Anika I know.”
Wait. What the hell? I was making him laugh? This was the creep that was stalking me. So why was he acting so… normal right now? And friendly? “You’re acting weird. Did he beat you up as well? Or did you just attack him without his knowing?”
Foster snorted. “I’m too relieved to act weird.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
Brady cleared his throat and I looked up at him. He seemed angrier now, even though he’d clearly been on edge for several minutes now. “Hey, if you could get your hands off my girlfriend, that would be great.”
Whoa. What? We were only pretending, and it wasn’t like Foster was hurting me. In fact, he was helping me with my ability to stay sitting up. So what was up with Brady? “He’s not doing anything wrong,” I muttered, glaring at Brady a little. I didn’t like Foster, that much was true, but that still didn’t make it okay for Brady to just snap at him like that without reason.
Brady turned and left, closing the door without a word.
Foster watched and chuckled.
I glared at Foster. “Shut it, creep.”
He grinned at me innocently.
I sighed quietly to myself and looked at the door Brady had just slammed. “Boys are completely insane and unreasonable. In fact, the only one I can really stand being around anymore is Mitchell.” Realization hit me at the mention of my friend. “Oh, God,” I groaned. “He must be freaking out. Where’s Mitchell?”
Foster looked at me blankly.
“Mitchell. The guy that I play fight with, who you almost tried to assault in the hallway.”
His gaze darkened. “I really don’t like that guy. He’s a creep. When he touches you, I want to skin him alive. It should be him you’re so freaked out by, not me. I’m much less likely to harm you.”
“Stop being such a weirdo. You were being tolerable until now.”
Foster sighed. “Mitchell,” he sneered the word as if it was a cuss, “is downstairs panicking. The annoying blonde is throwing up in a bush, or she was last time I saw her. Apparently, she throws up when she’s scared.”
I grimaced. She really did; I’d learned that on a rollercoaster.
He moved and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at me.
I scooted away from him a little and the arm he’d been supporting me with left to take my hand. It made me flinch; his hand was warm and soft, and its size almost covered my hand, but it was Foster. Him touching me was just… wrong. So why wasn’t I stopping him? I guess drugs were really as behavior-changing as people said they were. Was that why he didn’t seem too creepy to me right now? Because I was so out of it?
“You know, you actually did scare me,” said Foster.
“You scare me.” There was a little truth to that.
He laughed quietly. “I never was very good at dealing with girls.”
“Maybe that’s because you’re insanely possessive over someone you’ve only known for two days. It’s totally unrealistic to lay claim to me. If you seriously want a girlfriend, turn that shit down, a lot. There are lots of girls at the school that were dead set on getting your phone number. But didn’t you say you were taken?”
“I’ve been taken for years. By you.”
“I’m not sure what you have, but I’m certain it’s hard to pronounce. I hope there’s medicine for it. You should look into getting some.”
Foster rolled his eyes.
My head pounded furiously suddenly and I slapped a hand to my forehead, rubbing it, barely managing to suppress a groan.
“Are you okay?” asked Foster.
“I’d ask for water if I hadn’t been drugged last time I did.”
His eyes wandered over my face for a moment and he leaned in, swiftly kissing my forehead then standing up and walking to the door. “I’ll get you some water
, and I promise you it won’t contain anything other than ice.” I stared at him as he pulled open the door and stood there for a moment, contemplating his words. Finally, without looking at me, he started speaking. “You and your friend Mitchell… Neither of you are very good actors.” He closed the door behind him and disappeared into the hall.
Uneasiness flowed through my body. What did that mean? Did he know I wasn’t really dating Brady? And what the hell had he meant about Mitchell? I massaged my temples for a moment. Who were these boys? A bipolar creepy stalker, a player that gets pissed off over nothing…
My world had been turned completely upside down in only two days.
Chapter 5
Neither Brady nor Foster texted me on Sunday. It was quiet mostly, except for everything going crazy in my head. I’d been thinking nonstop about yesterday. After Mitchell had come to get me and drive me home, I’d seen Foster watching us from the doorway with his fists clenched. Brady hadn’t come back after slamming the door. I guess he was seriously pissed about me ruining his party. Now I was lying on my stomach across my bed, with my arms dangling off one edge and my legs dangling off the other. There was a “ping” on my phone and I looked at the pop-up. It was from Mitchell. He’d sent me a video.
I clicked on it and watched the screen curiously. Normally when he sent me videos, they were of cats failing or instant karma. My heart sunk through the bottoms of my feet when I saw Foster on the thumbnail of the YouTube video. I clicked play and saw Foster stalking slowly toward a boy.
“You.”
“What? Me?”
“I saw you and—” the audio was muted for a moment and I wondered for a minute why Mitchell had edited this part out; maybe he’d said my name? “—wanna try me?” Foster suddenly punched the guy in the throat, sending him flying backward. The boy got up quickly and swung at Foster, missing. By the time I was five minutes into the video, Foster was untouched and the boy’s face looked like he was starring in a horror movie. Finally, the boy stayed down and someone screamed. Foster kept punching him, and it took three guys to finally drag him off the boy he’d knocked unconscious. Foster looked up, dead into the camera. His face when he saw the camera was even more hateful than it had been when he was beating the guy. Then again, who wouldn’t be pissed that their fight was caught on camera, something that could be shown to literally anyone?
I felt like I was going to be sick. The video suddenly cut when he started to say something else and I scrolled to look at the comments.
lol this has to be fake, he looked like right at the camera. plus, who fights that good?
That freak went to my school last year… I’m so sorry for this boy…
I tossed my phone onto the carpet and let my head fall forward so that I was upside down again. Foster was definitely terrifying. He’d just kept beating the guy… and the look he gave Mitchell…
Something hit my back and I screamed.
My cat yowled in protest and jumped off of me as I rolled over.
I breathed a sigh of relief and closed my eyes. Why was I so jumpy? Because of Foster? It wasn’t like he was here. He couldn’t hurt me from wherever he was.
As long as I stayed away from him, I was safe.
***
When I walked to lunch on Monday, I was mildly surprised to see Brady with some girl against him. They were making out—hard. I felt a little sick. I hated it when couples made out like this in the middle of the hallway. Then I realized what was wrong with this: he was meant to be pretending to date me. So was he pretend cheating on me too? Was I meant to be angry about that, or was it even something I was allowed to be angry about?
Oh, for the love of… They were against my locker.
I walked up to them, not sure of whether to just push them or say something. So I cleared my throat and raised an eyebrow at Brady. “You’re in the way of my locker, you know,” I sighed when he stopped mauling the girl long enough to look at me.
The girl glared at me, gave him a very obvious, very gross, French kiss then flounced off, swaying her hips as she walked.
I snorted as I watched her leave and looked at Brady, who was still against my locker.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did that bother you?” he asked.
“Why would it? I just don’t like it when couples kiss in public, especially at school. School isn’t the time or place to be mauling someone. And in front of my locker is especially not the place to do it. Don’t you have sex under the bleachers sometimes? Why couldn’t you just go there with her instead of here?”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me a manwhore?”
I burst out laughing, forced into doubling over from the laughter after a few moments. He was looking at me in confusion when I managed to breathe, and I just barely managed to repeat, “Manwhore.” I started laughing again as he glared at me. Finally, I steadied myself and grinned at him, still finding the term funny. “No, that’s not what I was talking about. I was just offering you some advice: location, location, location. If you’re gonna walk around kissing random girls, just don’t do it in front of my locker or in front of Foster. Other than that, you can do what you want.”
Brady narrowed his eyes at me angrily and suddenly got really close to me, looking down at me with fury in his eyes. “Well, it’s not like I can do that with you.”
I raised an eyebrow slowly at his defensive statement. “I didn’t ask why you were doing it, Brady.”
He glared at me more.
I sighed. “Look, I know we’re only fake dating. It’s okay if you want to kiss other girls. It doesn’t bother me.”
“Maybe it should,” he muttered.
“What?”
He stepped away from me and exhaled sharply. “You’re infuriatingly weird, you know that?”
“Yes, actually. You’ve called me a freak before; yelled it, technically, before throwing things at me and running away.” The amusement was gone from my tone and I waited, looking at him challengingly as I remembered him in fifth grade.
His breath hitched, and hesitation interrupted the anger in his eyes. “You seriously remember that?”
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I? That’s how I met Mitchell.”
Brady’s gaze slipped away from mine and he looked at the locker for a minute.
I shrugged. “It was stupid. And I met Mitchell, which was great.” I smiled at him, trying to get him to smile. “So in a way, I’m glad it happened like that.”
His eyes snapped to mine.
I was strangely startled and almost jumped at the way he looked at me so suddenly.
“I have to do something,” he muttered, turning on his heel and disappearing down the hall.
Sighing, I started to open my locker. I smiled suddenly as I remembered that day at school.
It was recess, and I’d passed Brady Morrison a note to meet me outside. Now, I was standing in front of him in my black hoodie and jeans. He looked up from where he was looking at the ground and looked at me. “Um… what did… you want, Anika?” He and I had never really talked to each other before, but he was really cute, and he sat with the special needs kids when they were alone. One time, he’d even helped me pick stuff up when I’d dropped it.
“Jamie told me you have a crush on me.”
“What?”
“That’s okay, though. I have a crush on you too.” I smiled at him encouragingly. I’d never had a boyfriend; maybe he could be my boyfriend. Then we’d date through high school and college and grow up and have kids. Love was probably like that, wasn’t it? To feel all nervous and shaky when you talked to them?
“I do not!” he exclaimed, turning dark red.
I stared at him as my hopes fell away. “What?”
“I don’t have a crush on you, you freak! Why would I have a crush on a girl that sits alone all the time? I want to date someone really pretty and popular. Not someone like you!” He looked around for a moment and picked up a handful of rocks. He tossed them in my d
irection and turned around, running away in the opposite direction.
I felt tears rise in my eyes. Oh. He didn’t. But… I did.
“Are you okay?”
I turned around and looked at the boy standing behind me. I’d seen him play some kind of board game by himself a lot; I was pretty sure his name was Mitchell and he was holding the board he carried around with him all the time. He looked at the ground. “Um… yeah… I’m… okay,” I lied, starting to cry as the words left my mouth.
Mitchell’s eyes widened and he offered me his hand suddenly, almost shoving it at me with the awkward force he’d used. “I’m Mitchell.”
“I’m A-Anika,” I managed between quiet half-sobs.
He smiled at me. “I know. Do you want to play chess with me? I can teach you to play if you want me to.”
Suddenly, I wasn’t sad anymore. I smiled at him. Maybe I’d fall in love with him now instead of Brady. Glasses were kind of dorky, but kind of cute, right? He didn’t have a lot of friends, so there probably wouldn’t be any competition for his attention. He was the polar opposite of Brady. Instead of rumors about him having his first kid, like Brady, the rumors about Mitchell were that he had done something really bad and that’s why he came to this school now. But he looked way too sweet for what people said, and he was being nice to me. What could possibly be wrong with playing a board game with someone? “Sure, I’d love to play. I won’t be any good at it, though.”
“We have lots of time. I can teach you.”
I smiled at him and sat down, watching him set up the board and point to different pieces, naming them and telling me what the different ones could do.
Mitchell, I repeated in my mind. That was a good name. He was good, even though the other kids said really bad things about him. Even if I didn’t fall in love with him, he would be nice to me, I thought. Not like Brady. He wanted to date pretty girls, not girls like me. That was okay, though. I’d fall in love with someone else now.
I didn’t need him.
I laughed quietly to myself as I remembered how unreasonable I was in fifth grade and pulled open my locker, taking out my wallet so I could go buy lunch. Boys never really did grow up, did they? Sure, he hadn’t thrown anything at me this time, but Brady had just called me a freak and run away again. An eleventh grader did the same thing a fifth grader did.
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