Beautiful? My stomach flips over, and I want to sock myself in the gut. This is a business relationship, nothing more.
“I can give you a leg up so you can find a secure place here at Brockmore. Hell, when the year is done and you dump me, you’ll usurp me. The school will be at your fingertips, and you’ll be a shoo-in for president of student council your senior year. What do you say?”
A ball knots up in the back of my throat. Yesterday it was easy to ask him for a fake relationship, but today, with daylight pouring through the window, I can feel the weight of the lie. This will require lying to my parents and Tuti, Charlotte, and Ainsley.
“Edelweiss, we aren’t going to get anywhere without being honest with each other.”
I tuck my hair behind my ears, studying the cantaloupe on my plate. “James, lying for an entire year is going to be hard.”
“Well, I want to be your friend. So what if we mislabel our friendship a bit? You’re cool. Let people interpret girl friend to be girlfriend and boy friend to be boyfriend. We don’t have to lie.”
I glance down at my plate. “I’m a little nervous of what people will think of me, considering all of your experience with girls that you bragged about yesterday.”
He sighs. “I don’t want to put on that kind of show. We’ll stick to some hand-holding, a peck on the cheek here and there. Nothing more. Friends with minimal benefits.”
“What happens if one of us finds someone we like, though?”
“Then we break up and remain friends. Hell, I’ll even help you find the guy of your dreams if you haven’t already by the end of the year.”
“And if we don’t get along?”
“Then you get to dump my ass. I promise.”
“A get-out-of-jail-free card?” I pop a tart raspberry in my mouth.
“Does this mean what I think it means?” His eyes brighten.
I tuck my hands into my lap, forcing myself to sit straight and tall. “A temporary relationship?” One that’ll safely allow me to check off the box I was most afraid to tackle on my list: dating and breaking up.
“The timetable is yours to manage, but please hang in there a few weeks so I have more time to show my father I’m serious about Brockmore.”
“Do you really think we can pull this off?” I glance at what seems to be a constant stream of students flowing in and out of the room. A girl a few tables away keeps glancing over her shoulder at James. There will be so many eyes who could notice us slipping up, and many girls waiting to pounce and take my place.
Excitement swirls in my chest. Whatever I just signed up for will at the very least be an adventure. One that’s all my own.
James leans back, placing both hands behind his neck, grinning. “Did Hemingway cheat on his wife?”
I let out a short, dry laugh and sip my water. “The irony of your statement does not escape me.”
He laughs with a twinkle in his eyes. “A smart girlfriend. Now this will be fun.”
Chapter Eight
James
Sweat rains down my back, and my quads burn. Push on! I duck with the leather ball tucked under my arm, swerving for an opening. There! Grinding off the turf, I launch forward.
This—right now—the physical push into pure abandonment of my own body, is what I’m all about. There’s nothing like being airborne, struggling to fly over that thick white line.
Then the hits come. One—into my right shoulder—two—the left kidney—three—my back—four—well, hell the entire team hops on while the whistle sounds. Their weight presses the breath out of my lungs. Fingers jut in, poking my face through my facemask, while arms wiggle down like snakes trying to steal the football.
Sorry, boys. It’s all mine. I keep hold of the pig, cementing it between my palms and my heart. Refs yank off the hundreds of pounds’ worth of defenders piled on my back.
There. Sucking in a deep breath after being tackled is always my favorite part, even if it does smell like sweaty ass and mildew. It means a job well done, especially when I still have full control over the ball.
“TOUCHDOWN! Bears win!” The announcer’s voice rattles through my helmet as it bellows through the stadium.
Mr. Davvy yanks me off the ground. “You okay, son?”
The answer is always the same, my fist pumping into the air while the crowd roars. It doesn’t matter how many hits I take, as long as six more points end up on the board.
I gaze up into the bleachers, searching for the dark-green sweater she said she’d be wearing tonight. If there’s ever a time to proclaim we’re together, it’s now. There she is, her long blond hair tumbling over her shoulders, cheering right next to Ainsley.
I kiss the tip of the ball then rotate it in her direction. The crowd turns as a unit, checking her out.
Ainsley is true to her word, pointing at Edelweiss so everyone knows that she’s the one.
Yup, that oughta do it.
Thankfully the postgame ritual is quick. The Brighton Knights barrel through the traditional ending high fives because their sportsmanship sucks. People expect their attitude, so they just lay it on harder. Probably fun to watch but a bit painful on the wrist.
“Parson!” John Proctor yells across the locker room the moment I step in. Anytime I look at him, with those startling blue eyes, I get a little creeped out—like I’m peering into the past of the Salem witch trials and the John Proctor is staring me down. He claims his eyes are the same as his great—to the exponential power—grandfather’s. It’s probably a lie, because who had a camera back in 1690, but I’m not going to challenge him on it.
“You fuck-shit.” He punches my shoulder at my locker. “You told everyone at practice this morning you weren’t drilling the new chick.”
“And I’m not, but we are together.” My jersey sticks to my lower back like glue, so it takes some considerable peeling before I’m free.
“I was planning to hit her up at the party tonight.” He crosses his arms and stares at the locker room ceiling.
“Gonna toss down the direct descendent line again?”
“Whatever. It garners interest.”
“The last girl you tried that on ditched you within seconds.” I toss my jersey into the laundry bin.
“Well, it’s not like I can weed out every conservative cheerleader in the country.”
“We were in Alabama, man.” I grab my bag for the shower and three towels off the shelf.
“Is Edelweiss from Alabama?”
“Nope.” Come to think of it, I have no idea where she’s from. Dad always just said they were abroad. “Great hustle out there,” I say instead, hoping he’ll drop the subject and move on. There are so many things about Edelweiss I’ll need to know if we are going to pull this off.
“Well, let me know when you fuck it up.”
“Not going to happen.” I dodge him as he tries to flick me with a towel on my way to the shower.
When I exit the locker room, I gaze down the Waiting Wall, where all the girlfriends meet their guys after each game. Mason raises an eyebrow. “Where’s the new girl?”
“I forgot to invite her.” I press past him. There’s so much I haven’t told Edelweiss about Brockmore life. How could I forget such an important detail? Although the Waiting Wall has always rubbed me wrong. Any girl worth my while would have better things to do than lean up against a wall after one of my games. But I guess if we are going to play the part, we both need to embrace tradition.
“James!” A voice bounces down the corridor followed by the clacking tell-tale footsteps of high heels.
“Emma.” There’s no use asking how she is or what’s up. The girl word-vomits around me, and it doesn’t matter if I want to know or not.
“Good game.”
“Yup.” I push open the doors of our private stadium exit, stepping out into the crisp night air.
“So—what—you don’t even talk to me now?” She reaches up and touches the locket that hangs from a chain around her neck. It’s her nervo
us tick, the one that made me once think we were meant to be together.
That was the only benefit of dating Emma. It didn’t feel as lonely being in the company of someone else who didn’t have a mother.
That locket’s the only thing Emma has left of her.
But I can’t let that be my only reason to be with her, especially with what she did. “We haven’t spoken all summer, Emma. Don’t see why that should change now.”
For a fleeting moment after having a real—though accidental—conversation about politics last year, I actually considered making us official. Of course, later that night I walked in on her with her side piece.
“You still want me, don’t you?” She tugs on my arm.
“Trust me. You quenched my palate.” I remove my wrist from her shackles. “I’ve moved on.”
Emma pops out her hip. “With that new girl? Please, James. She’s too green for you. You’re going to hurt her when you screw up, and—let’s be honest—we both know you’re going to mess it up. She’ll never understand how people like us work. I watched her all day with the teachers. She walks on pearls, like she’s from another world.”
No. I’m different now. There’s no way I’d let myself hurt her. Plus, our arrangement protects me from doing just that.
I press my lips firmly together. “She’s resilient to be able to bounce back after what you did to her last night. You could have gotten her expelled.”
Emma shrugs. “I had to test her out. My class has never had a new kid before. It was her initiation.”
“Did she pass?”
Emma does the thing I hate where she scrunches up her nose and looks like a bunny who ran into a skunk. “Far from it.”
“The girl fell into your web and walked out with me as a boyfriend, and now everyone’s interested in her. I’d call that passing with bonus points.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. She looks like she writes her own Laura Ingalls Wilder plays for fun. You’re not into her, Jamie. She’s not your type.”
“My tastes have changed.”
“Feel free to go ahead and tell yourself that. In the meantime, tell your girlfriend to watch her back.”
I’ve heard Emma tell people to watch their backs enough to know that she needs time to pull off a plot. Usually it’s an empty threat in the now, and whatever she’s got in mind I’m certain I’ll be able to figure it out in time to stop her. I can protect Edel. “Why? I’ve already got her back.”
Emma leans on the giant gargoyle at the base of the stairs into Brockmore Hall that looks a bit like Mr. Davvy. “Are you sure about that?” A slow smirk draws itself across those perfect pink lips.
I glare at her and want to kick myself for not keeping closer tabs on her schemes. “What did you do to her, Emma?”
She shrugs, then pushes off the gargoyle and ascends the stairs, wiggling her butt a bit too much on her way up. “You’ll figure it out.”
Thick pressure hovers over me as I follow her up the stairs and inside. I know if I tail her she’ll bring me right to the drama.
The hum of a crowd echoes from an adjacent hall. I groan, pushing past Emma as I break into a jog. A group has gathered in front of the student council booth, pointing at the candidate photos on the wall.
The word skank is red-lettered over Edelweiss’s head shot. Edelweiss stands at the front of the crowd, stunned.
I push my way in closer to see what she’s looking at, and when I do see it, I freeze. There in her hand she clutches a handful of light-blond hair. There’s a massive chunk missing from the hair draped over her shoulder.
Holy hell. Emma is evil. Pure evil.
My mouth opens, ready to fire but nothing comes out. My knees lock, and all I can do is look into Edel’s vulnerable, crystal-blue eyes. There’s an ache there, one that acknowledges that I failed her.
Ainsley glares at me. “James!” Her eyes change into the warning glare that looks just like Dad’s. Freaking terrifying.
I peel my gaze away from Edel and direct it toward Ainsley. What am I supposed to say? Eye-speaking is the benefit of discovering we share half our DNA. Thank God we figured out she was my sister before I hit on her. My father apparently sowed his seed a lot the year after my mother died. Odd how fate tossed us together and gave us the opportunity to figure out that we aren’t as alone as we thought. Of course, Dad doesn’t know. Neither does Julie.
Ainsley puffs out her chest. “Really?” She steps forward, yanking on Edelweiss’s hand to remove her from the mass of students.
Edelweiss’s face is pale, and I can’t help but cringe at the sight. It’s painful to watch. Honest displays of emotion are a rare sight around here. Brockmore students are expected to move on.
“Don’t suppose they sell hair glue?” I try for the laugh, but the moment the words slip out, I want to crawl into a hole and die. Pretty sure I just won the worst boyfriend award.
Ainsley groans, grabbing Edelweiss by the shoulder and shoving her past me. “Go to hell, James,” Ainsley growls, pushing her toward Jordan, Tuti, and Charlotte. They cup her close and rush her up the stairs.
Shit. That probably was what I should have been doing.
Jace steps forward, squeezing my shoulder. “Smooth, Parson. Text me when she dumps your ass so I can comfort her in the morning.”
Inside my pockets, my fingers clench as I push past him. I run my tongue over an area on the inside of my cheek that I hadn’t realized I’d been biting while I stood there, just watching.
I duck into a study room and close the door, keeping the lights off. Wow. I let Edelweiss down in a way I never knew I could.
Weak never defined me until this moment.
Why didn’t I move?
If it had been anyone else standing there with a chunk of their hair cut off, I would have barged in and told everyone to go to hell. Shouted about getting revenge or some crap like that.
But seeing Edel like that threw me into shock. It was my job to protect her, and I failed.
Chapter Nine
Edelweiss
“Your hair!” Charlotte’s fingers feather through the chopped ends of my hair while I sit on my bed. “Damn. Emma’s picked up her game.”
“Picked up her game?” Tuti tosses a comb at her. “Word choice, Charlotte!”
Charlotte bites her lip, tucking the comb between her knees while she studies my assaulted locks. “I meant that she’s hit a new low.”
“How are you not crying right now?” Tuti paces the room. “Are you even in there?”
Valid question. The photos on Tuti’s wall all blur together after I’ve been staring at them so long. There are so many feelings circling within me with an intensity I never felt before. How could this happen to me?
My chest aches from the jagged adrenaline pumping through my veins. For the first time in my life, I actually want to hurt someone. My fists yearn to smash into Emma’s chest, blowing the air out of her so she’s forced to know how I’m feeling right now.
“She’s dating James now. Everything’s different.” Ainsley sits on Tuti’s bed, clutching a pillow on her lap.
“For real? Well, I’d dump his ass. He just stood there.” The comb snags on a snarl. “Sorry,” Charlotte says. “Whoever used the scissors chopped too close to the base of your hairline. Hell, if you would’ve moved one step back she would’ve nipped your skin.”
“Can we hide it?” My voice catches as I utter my first words since the attack. My bones feel frozen, but my left calf muscle won’t stop twitching. Pretty sure the humiliation did a faulty factory reset on my system.
The photo they chose alone would have been mean enough. They’d cropped one of the photos I sent in my online application, one of my parents and me, sitting on camels in front of the Pyramids of Giza. For this though, they zoomed in close enough to feature the red, swollen zit on my chin.
Then they had to go red-letter my name all over the shot: skank. Really? The word shouts immaturity as loud as I want to scream at Emma.
/> My hair…my precious hair! I hadn’t cut it in years. Someone brushed up against my shoulder, and a second later I felt the sharp pull. The sound of the crunch of the scissors through my hair was deafening. I turned around too late to see who carried the shears.
All I know is that Emma must have been the brains behind this. The look she gave me, plumping out her pink-glossed lower lip with a smirk, was one of pure triumph.
Charlotte plops down on the desk chair she’s pulled out across from me. “I can’t blend this into your old style. You lost too much.”
“Why is she so set on destroying me?” My hand squeezes around the thick chunk I scooped off the floor, grinding the strands of hair together. The ten inches of hair looks so lifeless in my palm, almost diseased.
“Emma couldn’t handle not being the only blonde with beautiful hair in school.” Tuti picks up the stress cow from her desk, squeezing tight until its eyes pop out.
“Maybe I could…” Charlotte squats so her eyes are level with mine while she folds my hair under to make it all look short. “Yes. Now this you can pull off. An angled, chin-length bob, slightly asymmetrical. With your jaw structure and cheekbones, you’ll kill it. Ainsley, where are my scissors?”
“Wait. You’re going to cut more of it?” I suddenly snap out of my trance, reaching up to protect my hair. The harsh chopped ends tickle my palm.
“Better than wandering around school with the evidence of Emma’s dirty work, isn’t it?”
“Credentials would probably be nice, Charlotte.” Ainsley pulls a small blue pen out of her pocket, shifting to the edge of the bed and opening the window. Her lips wrap around the pen and she breathes, releasing a pristine white vapor out the window. “An e-cig. I vape, and don’t worry, it’s not nicotine and not addictive. I just like the flavor. Anyway, Charlotte, prove yourself worthy of those scissors or you’ll give the girl a heart attack.”
“But it’s so much more fun to make them squirm.”
Tuti tosses her Kleenex box at Charlotte, whacking her in the back of the head. “Charlotte, she’s squirmed enough tonight. Come on!”
It Had to Be You Page 7
