Ultimatum (Dirty Secrets Book 1)

by Mercy Amare

  Emma and Hayden both are comfortable with not being the best. They’re good enough, and that’s okay. They don’t care about competitions or scholarships. They just want to be cheerleaders, and they want to be popular.

  Frannie smiles at me as she sits down. “Wow, Mads, you look great today. The summer treated you well.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  I notice Daisy tense up beside me. God forbid if she isn’t the center of attention for five seconds. She’s the only person I know who loves the spotlight more than I do… at least when it comes to high school. I don’t want to just stand out in high school. I want to stand out in life.

  “I didn’t want to say anything in front of everybody else, but your thighs look fat in that dress,” Daisy tells me.

  Oh my God, I hate her sometimes.

  Five seconds ago, she was jealous of how skinny my legs look. Now they’re so fat that she has to call me out in front of everybody.

  I don’t let her get to me. She just wants to undermine my confidence, and I refuse to give her that power.

  “Personally, I think your legs look stunning,” Landry Sherwood says, taking a seat on the other side of me. “I’d love to get between them sometime.”

  I roll my eyes.

  Landry is a football player. He’s cute, but he’s so not my type. He’s too much of a pretty boy, plus he’s kind of a man whore. He’s been between half of the student body’s legs, including Daisy. Her face turns red with anger. Before she can say anything else, Mason, Robbie, and Luke take a seat at the table.

  “My parents are out of town this weekend. I was thinking we need to have some kind of Labor Day party on Friday,” Luke says. His parents are always out of town, and he always has a party.

  Daisy is glad for the distraction, so she starts talking about how awesome the party will be. But I know her. She won’t forget what was said, and she will hold a grudge against me, even though it’s not my fault.

  High school sucks sometimes.

  Drama Club

  The way high school works.

  After lunch, I only have two classes left for the day — drama club, and glee club. I’m glad I have all of my regular classes out of the way early so I can just chill from lunch on.

  I technically only need to take three classes to graduate — English, French II, and Biology II. My trigonometry class I’m taking for a college credit. Basically, after I pass this class, I won’t have to take another math class ever. But I wanted to still take drama club and glee club, even though I don’t have to. Maybe it’s because I’m feeling nostalgic. It’s my last year of high school, and I want to enjoy it.

  Plus, if I wasn’t at school, I’d be at home bored. Mom’s boyfriend would probably be over, and that would just be miserable.

  Mr. Matthews is our drama teacher. He’s in his mid-fifties and thinks he’s cool because he wears skinny jeans and Armani shades indoors. He always tells us stories about his glory days on Broadway, but he was only a back up dancer, and he had one line. He was fired after a heated affair with the star of the show. Every time he starts in, everybody rolls their eyes and pulls out their phones.

  Since today is the first day, he’s telling us the same story I’ve heard a million times… in case we forgot over summer. I pull out my phone and look through my texts. I have one from Frannie sent a few seconds ago.

  Frannie Davis: Dee is seriously evil!

  Me: Just ignore her. It’s better to put up with it than go against her.

  Frannie Davis: But why? Why does she get to treat us like crap and if we say anything, we are turned into social pariahs. It’s not fair!

  Me: I know, Fran. But that’s the way high school works. Besides, I know my legs aren’t fat. She knows that I know. She can’t get to me. You shouldn’t let her get to you either.

  Frannie Davis: You’re right. I just can’t help it sometimes. Why is she the “queen”?

  Me: Because she’s rich.

  Frannie Davis: You could go up against her. You’re prettier than her. And all of us would stand behind you.

  Me: It’s senior year. I just… don’t want drama. Let’s enjoy our last year.

  Frannie Davis: It would be a lot more enjoyable without Dee sitting at our table.

  Me: I know. But I have to go. Mr. Matthews is almost done with his speech.

  Frannie Davis: Okay. But we are not done talking about this!

  Me: Okay. We’ll talk later.

  I put away my phone just in time for the speech to come to an end.

  “This year, for the winter play, we will be performing Cinderella,” Mr. Matthew says. “I know most of you are intimidated by the fact that Miss Madeline Grey has had the lead in every play for the past four years, but don’t be. The theater has so many parts to fill, and remember…”

  “There are no small parts, only small actors…” we all say.

  “With that being said, we will be having open auditions this Wednesday at three p.m.” Just as he finishes, the bell rings, alerting us that class is over. “I hope to see each and every one of you at auditions!”

  We all file out of the drama room.

  I can’t wait for auditions. I am more than ready to get back on stage. I missed it this summer.

  “Madi!” I hear Lexie as she runs up beside me. “I was thinking about trying out for the wicked stepmom. What do you think?”

  “I think you will make an awesome wicked stepmom,” I say honestly. “Remember when you played the Wicked Witch of the West our sophomore year? You seriously play an awesome evil person.”

  “I do, don’t I?” She smiles at my compliment. “So, I have to get to class. I’ll see you later!”

  “Bye, Lexie!” I yell as she takes off in the opposite direction.

  Glee Club

  I’m team Madi.

  This is only my second year taking glee club. I joined last year, against Daisy’s wishes, and I’m glad I did. Glee club is a lot more fun than I thought it would be.

  As always, the teacher makes us sing thirty seconds of a song so she can put us into our sections. Last year I was alto.

  There are only twenty of us in glee club. Mrs. Brooks has me go first, which I am perfectly okay with. She sits down at the piano and tells me the song I’ll be singing. I feel one split second of butterflies when the music starts, but the second I start singing, they’re gone. Everybody is looking at me, and I love it.

  After the song is over, Mrs. Brooks looks up at me from the piano. “Wow, Madeline. This is a huge improvement from last year. You must have been practicing… I see you were in the alto section last year, but I think I want to try you out in the soprano section.” She pushes her glasses up on her nose. “Would you be interested in trying out for a solo?”

  I nod, not able to contain my smile. “I would love it!”

  “Good.” She calls the next name on the list, and I take my seat.

  The rest of class, I listen as other kids sing and are put into sections according to their vocal range.

  I pull out my phone, careful to hide it from Mrs. Brooks, though she generally doesn’t care about cell phone usage as long as it’s not interrupting a performance. When I do, I see I have a few texts. I check the one from Cassidy first.

  Cassidy Armstrong: Just so you know, I’m team Madi. ;) Let’s knock Dee of her high horse.

  I don’t want to get into that conversation now, so I check the next text.

  Landry Sherwood: You know, I don’t JUST want you for sex. I think you’re kind of awesome.

  I roll my eyes and delete that text message. Landry has had a crush on me since freshman year, but I so don’t date guys like him — players. You know the type. I deserve better.

  The last text message makes my heart race, because it’s from Jace.

  <3 Jace: Trey and I heard that Dee the demon called you fat. I know that you know it’s not true. But just in case you need a confidence booster, I think you’re pretty damn sexy.

  I reply to Jace.


  Me: I am, aren’t I? ;) Thanks, Jace.

  <3 Jace: She’s just jealous because you’re hotter than her. Everybody knows it, including her.

  Me: I don’t know about that. She has that whole… Barbie thing going on.

  <3 Jace: Who wants a cheap plastic toy??? No comparison, Mads. You’re way superior in every way.

  My heart melts at his words, but I know he doesn’t mean anything. He’s just saying it because he’s Trey’s best friend. He doesn’t see me as anything more than his best friend’s twin sister. That’s it.

  As if to prove my point, my phone vibrates again.

  <3 Jace: For the record, I still wouldn’t mind playing with you.

  Classic Jace.

  For once, I wish he would say those words to me without a sarcastic comment at the end.

  I just want him to admit he wants to be with me as bad as I want to be with him. Which, to be honest, is pretty freaking bad.

  Band Practice.

  Maybe someday.

  Band practice isn’t the same since Beau left for college last week. We need a new bass player. So we’ve decided next week we will hold auditions. Now we just need a band name to put on the sign. We’ve been playing together for almost four years, and we haven’t been able to agree on a band name. Nobody will want to join our nameless band.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Trey says. “Let’s just put a number and an inanimate object together. Thirteen Rocks. There we go. Problem settled. Now can we just play?”

  “We are not naming our band that,” I say, putting my hands on my hips. “I liked Stale Cereal better than that.”

  Yes, Trey did suggest that we name our band Stale Cereal earlier.

  “It doesn’t have to mean something, but I do want it to sound awesome,” Jace says. “I think it should just be something that comes to us randomly one day. Let’s just play and when we put out the flyers, we can say we don’t have a name yet.”

  I sigh. “Fine.”

  Without another word, Jace counts down the song. Trey starts playing the guitar right on cue. I watch as his hands slide up and down the neck. I’ve heard him play hundreds of times, but I never get tired of watching him. He is amazing, just like our dad was.

  I can play the guitar some too, but I’m not that good. I know enough to write songs. Not that I’ve ever let anybody hear or read my songs. Jace and Trey have no idea that I’ve ever written any, and I’m going to keep it that way.

  I start singing and am quickly lost in the beat.

  Music might not be what I want to do the rest of my life, but I love the escape it offers.

  When Dad died, Trey and I started learning the guitar together. We did it to honor his memory. Trey really excelled, so he would play and I would sing. We did it for fun. When we were thirteen, Jace decided he wanted to learn the drums, so we started a band. We sucked. Bad. But somehow over the years, we’ve gotten decent. I’m not sure I’d actually want anybody from school to hear me, but maybe someday.

  When the song comes to an end, my heart is beating fast. For a moment, I imagine an audience applauding and yelling. But then I imagine being booed off stage, and I shudder at the thought.

  Jace gets up from the drum set. “I should head home. Mom has to leave for work soon, and I have to watch Thayer.”

  “Bring him over for dinner,” I say. “I’m making enchiladas.”

  Enchiladas are Jace and Thayer’s favorite food that I make.

  My mom is a nurse, so she’s hardly ever home for dinner. Trey, Hailee, and I all share responsibilities. I cook and clean the kitchen, Hailee cleans the living room, and Trey takes out the trash. We all take care of our own laundry and bedrooms. The house isn’t spotless or anything, but it looks nice considering our mom and her boyfriend don’t help at all. Before Trey and I learned to clean, the house was always really dirty. Dad was clean, but not Mom. And Ben, her boyfriend, is just lazy. He doesn’t technically live with us, but he’s always there when our mom is. He stays the night every night.

  “I will,” Jace promises. “Thayer loves coming over here. I think he has a crush on you, Mads.”

  If only his big brother had a crush on me too.

  “Well, Thayer is the cutest nine year old on the planet,” I say.

  “That’s because he looks just like me,” Jace says, smiling.

  I roll my eyes and pretend to be annoyed, but Jace is right. Thayer does look a lot like him when he was nine. I’m glad that he got his looks after his mom and not his dad. I bet it would be harder if Thayer looked like his dad, considering what happened. We never discuss Thayer’s dad, but I know it’s a painful memory. I can see the pain in Jace’s eyes when he thinks Thayer isn’t looking. And his mom still has the scars from it. I hate it for them.

  Jace leaves to go get Thayer, and I get started on the enchiladas. Haliee comes downstairs and helps me roll them up, and I can’t help but think how lucky my family is. I miss my dad like crazy, but I am blessed to have such amazing siblings. How could I ever ask for more?

  8pm

  Just the same old boring ones.

  After dinner, I get online to see I have a new message from my grandma on Facebook.

  My dad’s mom, Margret Grey, lives in Los Angeles. She thinks she’s really hip because she drives a convertible VW Beetle. She’s eccentric. Last year she decided to dye her hair blue. Thankfully that phase only lasted a few months before she dyed it back to dark brown. I love talking to her, because when I do, I feel closer to my dad in a small way. Last summer, I went to visit her for a couple of weeks when I had a break from softball. It was a lot of fun.

  Margret Grey: Hey, Madeline. How was your first day of school? Any cute new guys ask for your number?

  Me: Ha. No cute new guys… Just the same old boring ones. But today was awesome. I found out were doing Cinderella for the play this year… Also, my glee club teacher wants me to try out for a solo, which I’m super excited for! I hope I get it.

  Margret Grey: You’re so much like your dad.

  Me: :) That’s pretty much the ultimate compliment. Thanks, Grandma.

  Margret Grey: How is your mom treating you?

  Me: You know how she is… Work, Ben, work, Ben.

  Margret Grey: After you graduate, you know you have a home here. Trey and you both.

  Me: But then Hailee wouldn’t have anybody to look after her. I can’t do that.

  Margret Grey: You’re a good big sister, but I think Hailee will be fine on her own. I’m here for you when you need me.

  Me: I know. Thanks… But I have to get off here for tonight. I’ll talk to you later.

  Margret Grey: Night, sweetie.

  I shut my laptop and think about what Grandma said.

  She’s right — Hailee would be fine on her own. Out of us all, she’s probably the most outspoken. I’m not sure if I’d want to move to California; I like living in Louisiana, but maybe I could apply to a college a little further from home. Maybe Florida or Georgia.

  Really, I just want to go wherever my brother goes.

  My phone starts ringing. I look to see a call from Frannie coming through. I sigh and answer.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Hey, Mads,” Frannie greets me. “Have you given anymore thought to what I said earlier today?”

  “I don’t know, Fran. I just want this year to be drama free. And Dee isn’t always bad. She’s always been a good friend to me,” I say, even though it’s not true. Daisy has done a lot of bad things to me. Sophomore year she told everybody I had an STD just because a guy she was crushing on asked me to homecoming. I turned him down, but that didn’t matter to her. And that is just the beginning of all the rumors she has spread about me. Nobody believes them anymore.

  “You can’t lie to me,” Frannie says. “We’ve been friends since freshman year. Remember that time she told the school counselor that you had an eating disorder? She got to retake her finals because she said she couldn’t concentrate because she was so worried about you. And remem
ber the time she told Oliver Bray that you were pregnant with Landry’s baby so he would take her to the school carnival instead of you? And remember…”

  I cut her off. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Dee has it out for me. But am I really ready to go up against that? And why me? Why can’t you do it, Fran? I’d support you.”

  “Because we want you,” Frannie says. “We all decided. You’re a leader. Everybody already likes you better than Dee. Why not make her last year of high school miserable? She deserves it.”

  “You’re the captain of the cheerleading squad, Fran. You’re a leader too.”

  “Just think about it.”

  I sigh. “Fine. I will think about it.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”