by Kitty Parker
I managed to catch Mann just before he stepped outside. Luckily, he wasn't high. Yet. That state wouldn't last very long.
"Mann." He turned, tossing his dark hair (far too long in my opinion) out of his face. I didn't bother to hide my smirk that even those who prided themselves on their own power, like him, danced to my tune. In fact, Emma was probably the only one at this school who didn't.
"Yo, McGavern," he nodded with careful cordiality. Neither of us were ready to openly declare war, even if both of us knew we were rivals verging on enemies. We were too alike, and yet too different, to get along or be neutral. But at the moment, we had a polite relationship that might have fooled outsiders into thinking we liked each other.
"I heard you were getting tutoring," I began. Just ordering him to get his ass over to the library wouldn't have worked, however attractive a possibility it was. He would have stayed just to spite me. And anyway, I didn't want to challenge him just yet. I would win, of course, but it wasn't worth it. An enemy took so much work.
"Yeah." He shrugged, a lascivious grin sprouting on his usually kind face. God, I wanted to punch him just for that. But I refrained myself. He wasn't worth it. "I don't need it, but there's this really hot chick I wanted to get, and she tutors, so it was a good excuse." His candidness didn't surprise me. He knew I knew what he was, and so didn't bother hiding himself.
My fists clenched at his open avowal of what he thought of Emma, but I refused to let my irritation show. "Nice," I allowed my contemptuous smile to echo his salaciousness, "But when exactly were you supposed to meet?"
He glanced at his watch. I could almost hear the grinding of the rusty cogs in his brain. Idiot. "Oh, shit, I think it was now. But I've got no idea where it is. Fuck!" And I repeat, idiot.
I restrained the urge to roll my eyes. How girls liked this guy, I had no idea. But I had more reasons to talk to this useless piece of human refuse than just to get him to tutoring. Especially after his comment about Emma. At least I didn't fixate on girls, or need the thrill of the chase.
"Is it that Laycha chick? Short, black hair, kinda quiet...?" I inquired casually. Come on, you bastard, take the bait, I want to know what you're up to, tell me what I want.
"Yeah, that's her. Hot, isn't she?" he grinned lewdly. "And I bet she's a virgin too." Was he actually excited about that? I never found out how I managed not to hit him in disgust right then and there. "She's that innocent. Let me tell you, I'm the one who's going to be teaching her, and there's not going to be any history involved in the lesson."
I contrived not to chuckle at him calling Emma innocent. Okay, I would have agreed with him 6 months ago. He was still so horribly wrong; it was almost laughable. She may have been many things, but innocent was not one of them. But that didn't mean I couldn't capitalize on his ignorance.
"Dude, have you seen her?" I drawled. He wouldn't know that Emma and I were friends, because he wouldn't bother to notice anything around me. And we didn't actually interact that much in school outside of classes; where he obviously wasn't. "Not even you have a chance with her. She's a frickin' ice queen." Then, because I needed to convince him, and not knowing why the admission was painful when admitting defeat before never had, I added, "I doubt even I would have a chance with her."
He waggled his eyebrows. "The colder they seem, the hotter they get. You just have to know how to melt them." I had managed, by walking while talking, to start him moving in the general direction of the library.
I shook my head in what appeared to be amused negation but was actually a good way to hide my distaste. And people said I was as bad as this sleaze? "Not even you Mann, not even you." Well, I would say, especially not him. Emma had better judgment and taste than that. She hung out with me, after all. And I couldn't see why any girl could get as infatuated with him as they often did. Brock and Lex were just as attractive (or so gushed female sources) and athletic; not to mention they were actually good guys.
"Oh really?" he turned to me, shallow black eyes glinting with a light I suppose he meant to be sly. In my opinion, it just made him look vaguely serpentine. "Hundred bucks says I can nail her." God, he was disgusting. Betting on his conquests? Abhorrent. I would never do such a thing. Especially not to Emma, because she might hurt me.
But then again… She would inevitably put him in his place (probably violently) whatever I did, and me winning the bet would only drive home his humiliation. Not that Emma wouldn't do that well enough on her own, but I might as well take advantage of the sheer stupidity of Mann.
"Deal." I shook his hand a bit harder than necessary, but his squeeze was equally tight.
"That hundred dollars would be nice." He had no chance. Whatever Emma used to be, I bet somewhere in leaving her old life she had sworn off guys, or she might as well have. She saw everything, or so she said, and even if she didn't know that his reputation was purely that, with my urging, she soon would. And then she would kick him to the curb (literally, I hoped) like he deserved. Except maybe if she was drunk… but she knew better than that now. And if she didn't, I would have to keep her within my sight at any parties they were both at.
"There's never been a girl I couldn't get," he informed me with a challenge in his eyes and voice as we reached the library, "And Emma Laycha's not going to be any different."
"There's a first time for everything," I retorted calmly as I opened the door, 'maybe she'll surprise you." He snorted.
I scowled as I opened the door and drove him into the room; my glare deepening as I caught him scanning Emma with unabashedly lustful eyes. Damn him, I felt dirty for even seeing that look.
"Emma," I snapped. She turned, and her eyes widened as she noticed my companion. And that wasn't revulsion in those carefully veiled eyes, either, I realized, my bad mood getting worse. I suddenly, and horribly, wasn't quite as confident about the bet as I had been. "Here's your truant." She ignored me as I strode out, all her attention focused on Mann.
Fine then. If she appreciated complete bastards who weren't worth the breath it took to dismiss them, then so be it. Her loss. I could lose the hundred dollars no problem, if she really was as shallow and unperceptive as the other girls.
In that foul mood, I stomped through the halls. Lunch still had another fifteen minutes, and I could always ditch English afterwards. I had over an hour to boil with inexplicable rage towards Mann, Emma, and the world in general.
"Did you know," I spat at Lex when I found him, laughing at the lunch table with a bunch if the team. Not even giving him time to greet me I continued, "That Emma has caught Mann's attention?"
His jovial face grew worried. He knew as well as me how bad that was. But then, either more naïve or more confident in his stepsister than me, his expression cleared. "I'll talk to her," he assured me in his normal unhurried, untroubled way, "But don't worry. Dude, Emma's smart. She'll be fine."
And with that scant comfort, I was forced to be content.
o0O0o0O0o
"Ooooh Darien!" Emma sang, popping up beside me at the end of my non-existent French class, which happened to be last period today. I grimaced at her. She had no right to be so cheerful when I was still in such a bad mood. Especially not as she was usually the one in a pissy mood. "The talent show results are out!"
Her good mood did nothing to help my awful one. "Oh really?" I inquired, not even bothering to show interest. My other bet suddenly seemed much more important, even if the stakes were lower. It was probably just that beating Mann would feel so damn good.
"Yeah!" she grabbed my wrist and dragged me to the bulletin board. I let her, more because I didn't want to bother resisting than the fact that I wasn't sure if I could stand against her persistent tugging. "See?" she pointed excitedly, most of her usual reserve subsumed beneath her exhilaration. Indeed, printed on hot pink paper, was a list of all the acts that had made the cuts.
I surveyed it blankly. Why did I care, again? It wasn't until I read the last name on the list that I was jolted out of my vexed lethargy.<
br />
"Oh shit," I remarked, the impact slowly sinking into my anger and overwhelming it, "You got in." Well, this was simultaneously a blow to my ego (I had been so certain she didn't have a chance! Or at least, I had been when I made the bet. Now, honestly, I didn't see why she couldn't make it. Everyone had to have some talent.) and a very bad result for me.
Emma was nearly glowing. "Yes I did!" she crowed, an evil look in her eye that I had no trouble interpreting. I could almost see her sizing me up for female cloths. This was not good, very not good. Why on earth had I made this bet in the first place? "Which means you-"
"I know, I know," I cut her off, only whining a little bit. But really, I was completely justified. Not even my dignity could survive coming to school dressed in drag. "But do you know how much grief I'd get?" Hey, it was a long shot that Emma would capitulate, but anything's possible.
"Come on, it won't be that bad." Easy of her to say, she didn't have to humiliate herself in front of the entire school. Would Mann have something to say about this! Maybe, if I knew she was going to be absent someday, I could pretend to do it then… With her usual uncanny telepathy, she followed my train of thought. "And don't even think about trying to fool me, because if you do I will make your life a living hell." Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at me.
"How?" I scoffed. She didn't have that much pull at school, whatever she thought. I freaking ruled the school; I could renege on a bet if I wanted. And was dishonorable enough to…and had that little respect for my word… oh hell, I was stuck. Caught in my own morals; there's a new trap for me.
"Well, a request from you to the Matchmaker for some really irritating girl should do," she suggested, grinning evilly. Her mind worked on levels of evils far too great. Even if I stood the girl up, she would inevitably annoy me. Forever.
"Fine, fine!" I caved beneath her more powerful evil. Why, of all the people I hung out with, did it have to be the smart one that was evil? And she didn't even know it, but her threat was far more dire than she imagined. Why, it would ruin all my carefully laid plans, and make all of Brock's suffering in vain. Or at least not avneged. "I'll do it."
"Well," she considered for a moment, tapping her delicately pointed chin with one long, elegant finger. I drew my eyes quickly back up to her eyes. "There is an alternative."
"Oh?" I tried (and succeed) to sound both interested, but ineffably bored at the same time.
She looked up at me through huge eyes that revealed nothing, and I got a hint of the same irresistibleness she had used when drunk. "You could just owe me something. One favor, any favor-within reason, of course- at any time. And you would have to give it to me."
No humiliation? Nothing Emma could ask in the future would be as bad as that mortification. I jumped at the chance with a haste that, if I had known the favor she would someday call in, would never have existed.
"I'll take that," I agreed with a decisive nod. A slow smile sprouted across her face and made her almost radiant as she held out a languid hand for me to shake, and I wondered why instead of angering me, selling my soul to this devil made my stomach flip.
Chapter 25
* * *
Emma
* * *
"Okay." I closed my notebook with a firm snap, sending a gust of cool March air into Chris's notes and ruffling his hair, "We're done here." The tutoring had begun a month ago; I wondered if he noticed that the sessions were getting progressively shorter as he annoyed me more and more.
He shut his book obediently, disappointment coloring his gorgeous features. I would have rolled my eyes, if I hadn't been reluctant to let him know I was onto him. The difficulty of figuring out his little game would increase exponentially. But he laid it on way too thickly.
"But the bell hasn't rung yet," he protested, deep black eyes doggishly pleading. I looked down at my books as I chuckled. Not even I, who prided myself on my iron will, could resist those eyes for long.
"Since when does anyone object to ending a tutoring session early?" I inquired sardonically, stuffing my stuff into my backpack. He jumped on the opening I gave him with a speed that did him credit. At least he wasn't a stupid flatterer, or a lazy one.
"Since more tutoring means spending more time with you." His deep voice rumbled in his throat, coming out watery smooth, the kind of water that, given enough time, could break massive boulders. Again, I refrained from rolling my eyes.
"Well, unfortunately for you, I have something to do," I told him bluntly. Maybe curtness would put him off, although if he were as like Darien as he appeared to be, nothing would halt his persistence. But I wasn't lying (for once). I did have to get home after school and go straight to practice. And if it wasn't quite as urgent as I made it out to be, well, Chris was really irritating me. At least Darien was forthright about his arrogance. He gave everyone the cold shoulder. But I always felt slimy after spending too much time with Chris- sort of like I felt with a politician. He hid his meanness beneath a veneer of kindness, and that annoyed me, even if I could appreciate the irony of Darien having a good heart but an appearance of cruelty, and Chris seeming kind but actually was nothing more than a petty villain. Not to mention nothing angered me more than someone intelligent who didn't try. At least Allan attempted (and often failed), but Chris didn't bother to do better than the absolute minimum. Even Darien did more than that, and Chris didn't have Darien's native intelligence or drive to always be the best. But I didn't think I could stand much more of Mann.
"Really? What?" Yeah. Right. Like I was going to tell him something I didn't tell any of my friends. I would only let Darien drive me home, not all the way there. Chris had a long, long, long (read infinite) way to go before he wormed his way that far into my confidence.
"Nothing important." He either got the hint and, unlike Darien, wouldn't press or just didn't care. I guessed the latter, and I would have put a substantial amount of money on it.
"I could give you a ride home, if you need one," he offered offhandedly, but with a sidelong glance that told me the proposition was anything but unmediated. "You don't have a car, do you?" So the plan was to get me alone? Ha, fat chance. I was neither that naïve nor that stupid.
"No, I don't have a car," I admitted. And I didn't want one, either. No need to waste gas and ruin the environment when I could just get rides everywhere. Having friends who you could wrap around your finger who had cars; that was the key to transportation, "but-"
"I'm giving her a lift, Mann, it's fine." Darien leaned against the tree Chris and I were studying under, the dark brown bark framing his blonde head and making it look almost as white as Troy's. A languid, unconcerned smirk spread over his face as Chris glanced at him, normally pleasant expression for once showing overtones of his all too obvious animosity.
I ignored the byplay and scowled up at my friend. I could speak for myself, thank you very much. "I was about to say that," I scolded. He should know better than to finish my sentences. Neither boy paid any attention to me, blue-white eyes meeting Stygian black with a spark of lightning.
"McGavern." Chris nodded, barely polite. But of course, if he showed how angry he was, I would see how sleazy he really is. Point to Darien. "What're you doing here?"
"I got out early-"
"Skipped French," I interjected under my breath. I did not appreciate being overlooked. Darien shrugged, face as arrogantly frozen as I had ever seen it, because of course he couldn't show he cared about anything; that would injure his reputation.
"I've been skipping French," he amended, burning eyes not moving from Chris, "And as I was going to drive Em here-" I gave him a questioning look. He never called me Em. Only my mom, Allan, sometimes Jack, and Rhi called me that. I was not getting everything that was happening here. But that state would not last for long, not if I could help it. "-home, I figured I might as well find her now. I forgot you needed tutoring." Ooooh, burn. 2-0 for Darien.
But maybe Chris was cannier than I credited him for, because he countered quickly and - if I had been
as enthralled as he assumed I was - quite cleverly. "Yeah, well, if it weren't for Emma my captaincy would have been taken away." That was worth at least 3 points. Flattery to me, something like humility (which Darien never even pretended), and a subtle (for him) reminder about his sports status. Darien didn't play a sport, after all, he just hung out with the football guys, I assumed because of Brock. That, of course, begged the question of where he had gotten that drool-worthy body; but I didn't want to dwell on that. And so Chris pulls ahead.
"And what a pity that would be." He had imbued it with just the right amount of irony that I could pick up on it easily, but he could always disclaim any insincerity. Definitely Darien's point.
"Yeah, a pity," I agreed as the match ended in a tie when the timer (my patience) ran out. I did not appreciate being left in the dark or being fought over like some piece of meat. Two pairs of startled eyes turned to me as I surged to my feet, breaking the nearly tangible tension. "Now, as long as you're here and we're done, Darien, we might as well go. See you later, Chris." And, taking a vise like grip on Darien's wrist, I hauled him away, black ember eyes searing my back.
"What the hell was that?" I demanded when we finally reached the car, releasing my painfully tight grasp. I glared at him. He would learn that my black looks could do much more than simply burn.
"I was just chatting with your student," he replied, rubbing his wrist gingerly. Serves him right, being a chauvinistic moron. "Damn, Emma, that fucking hurt!"
"I don't care." I ripped the back door open, threw my backpack in, and slammed it closed as Darien meandered to his side of the car. Bastard. How dare he be so calm while I seethed? "What is up between you and Chris?"
"Nothing, I told you." He got into the car and started it, looking expectantly out at me. When I obstinately refused to move, he rolled down the passenger side window with a sigh. "Emma, get in."
I resolutely stayed where I was. Strike! Maybe that'll get me somewhere! I mean, it worked for the French- okay, bad comparison. Darien was many bad things, but French wasn't one of them.
