by SM Olivier
“Diane said she was your nurse on duty the night Crew Fairchild brought you in for your condition,” the other parent stated, crossing her arms over her ample bosom.
It was clear this Boob-Job Betty truly lived up to my nickname for her—no way were her triple Ds natural. Also, someone should have told her big hair, complete with a whole can of Aquanet, died in the early 90s. My inward scorn towards her continued as I noted the fake shade of blonde—yellow wasn’t really a hair color. Her short skirt and blazer were just as chic as the first woman’s outfit but were a hideous hot pink. Like Elle from Legally Blonde but on crack. The white fitted blouse she wore was unbuttoned, not stopping at the first two buttons but four. That was just a little…excessive.
I was an only child—well technically, I wasn’t, but I was raised as one, and snarky self-monologues were a given. I also entertained myself on numerous occasions. It was a good thing my filter between my brain and mouth was on, otherwise…
I sighed and rubbed my face.
“This is so ludicrous on so many levels. Let me start with the first reason why it is,” I began. “If, and I’m saying a major if, I was pregnant, which I am not and never was, maybe this conversation should have been held away from all of the football team and cheerleaders. Reason number two, ever heard of HIPPA? My medical conditions should not be shared with anyone without my consent, and as for Diane Delaney, my dear, bitter, second cousin…I think…?” I tapped my chin, feigning confusion.
“Hey, step mommy,” I called out, not caring I was being rude and confrontational, I was beyond incited at their feeble attempts to attack me time and time again for no reason. “What’s Diane to me? Is she my cousin or second cousin? First cousin once removed?” At their looks of anger, I shrugged and continued. “To share false information with anyone, and those acting upon it, is illegal.”
“I am your coach,” Selena insisted. “I had the right to know, and I thought you were sleeping with Golden, not Crew.”
I laughed because screaming and yelling was not an option right now. “Are you serious right now?” I placed my hands on my hips. “How is that anyone’s business? On any of the above… Who I sleep with. Who I don’t sleep with. My medical conditions. If I was cleared to return, that’s all that should have mattered.”
“This is so unnecessary,” Botox Bianca said with a sour look. “Just get your bags and go home, missy. You’re a shame to the Spartans and that uniform.”
“Principal Reynolds, Selena,” Coach Carson cleared his throat loudly. “This really is highly inappropriate. You’re allowing parents to dictate how we handle our student affairs. If Ms. Delaney had a doctor’s note stating she was cleared to return to practice and to the games, it should have stopped there. I can hear you guys all the way from in there, and if I were Ms. Delaney’s Dad, you best believe heads would be rolling for calling out my daughter in front of a bus full of students.”
He paused dramatically. “Oh, wait. Hey, Catherine, is David claiming his daughter yet?” He snapped his fingers. “That’s right, he isn’t. Peyton, get on the bus, and my suggestion to you is to call your granddaddy. Heads need to roll for this stunt.”
I smiled my thanks at him. He really was growing on me. No wonder the guys loved him so much. I also couldn’t help but notice the sour look on Catherine’s face. I guess she didn’t think any adult would back me up or defend me. Boo hoo for her.
“Do not let that girl get back on the bus,” Boob-Job Betty hissed out. “Her coach has the right to make that decision. Isn’t that right, Selena?” she asked smugly. “I heard that Dylan and Leah couldn’t return to the teams without permission, so why should she?”
“She wasn’t being punished,” Crew bit out. “Peyton is in the middle of a witch hunt with a bunch of middle-aged housewives that get bored after they spend their husbands’ money.”
I turned around, seeing Crew and Zane behind me. Crew took a few steps forward and placed a hand on my lower back, handing me a piece of paper. I realized it was my discharge papers. It stated clearly that I had a mild concussion on initial intake and fell ill with my dysmenorrhea while I had been under their care. It also showed all the medication, including my birth control, that had been prescribed to me. He must have kept it in his truck.
I gave him a grateful smile.
“No one asked for your input, Crew Fairchild. We all know that it’s a habit of yours to get girls knocked up. Then you take them to the clinic to get your babies aborted,” Diane Delaney said cruelly, stepping forward. “I mean, who can blame you? With your mom and dad leaving you, how would you know what it takes to be a dad?”
I saw Crew flinch. Anyone else looking at him would see a bored, almost detached look, but I knew him better. I knew that had hit a raw nerve. He never knew his ex was aborting the child that could have been his. It had hit him hard. He would have taken care of the child even if it hadn’t been his. His parents were also a touchy subject, but he shouldn’t be judged by their actions. They abandoned him. He didn’t leave them.
“You get out of here right now,” Coach Carson said between clenched teeth. “Coach Selena might allow you to attack her kids that way, but I won’t. Leave right now, all of you. We’re going to be late for the game.”
I took Crew’s hand and squeezed it, then looked over at the busybodies. “Just in case you wanted to continue believing the lies, let me clear a few things up for you.” I held up my discharge papers. “Not that this is any of your business, but if you want—” I handed them over to Principal Reynolds—“you can see right there that I had a concussion from a motorcycle accident, and that I suffer from dysmenorrhea. I wasn’t ever pregnant with Crew’s child. He helped me when I was in need, he didn’t abandon me, he took me to the hospital as any good man would do.”
“I’m so sorry, Peyton… maybe this wasn’t the time or the place,” Principal Reynolds said with a horrified whisper as she read my paperwork.
“You think?” I asked softly with a shrug before I turned and looked at the Delaneys. “And, Cousin Diane?” I bit out before I looked up at Freddy. “Did you get all that?” I asked him.
He nodded and held up a thumb.
I turned back to Diane. “I hope your witch hunt was worth your nursing license, because you best believe I will be contacting my grandfather and telling him what you did today. It’s also all on a recording. I’m sure the hospital will be happy to know that you’re so willing to give out confidential patient information out like that.”
Diane paled. “I didn’t tell them anything!”
“I’ll let your bosses determine that,” I stated coldly before I squeezed Crew’s hand and led him back to the bus. “Unlike you, I have proof of your transgressions.”
2
●
Stolen Thunder
“Maybe someone should piss in Crew’s cheerios more often,” Freddy said out of the side of his mouth. “Your boy is a freight train tonight, and no one has touched your other boy all night.”
It was true. I had only seen Crew play one other time, and he was intense then. Tonight, he was on fire. He was plowing guys down with a vengeance and tenacity that wasn’t there before.
“Freddy.” I gave him a long-suffering sigh. “Can you keep it down just a hair?”
Freddy really didn’t know how to whisper. His whisper was a typical person’s normal talking voice. He’d kept the commentary going the whole time we’d been on the bus, and it just continued.
When I had returned to my seat, after Coach had spoken up for me, Freddie had been bouncing up and down, telling me I had officially met Nan and Flossie’s mothers. Apparently, Botox Bianca was Nan’s mother, and Boob-Job Betty was Flossie’s. Later at the game, as the stadium filled up, he had pointed out Neil Perri and Lee Drummond. There was no doubt in my mind that Neil Perri had fathered Nan and Flossie. They were the female version of him, and Flossie looked nothing like her theoretical father—or mother, for that matter.
“Sorry,” he muttered,
but he really didn’t look sorry.
“At what point do I start fighting back?” I finally grumbled to Freddy. “At what point do I raise the bar? I am so sick of people coming out of the woodwork to attack me for some misconceived notion of entitlement. I mean, seriously, is it really my fault that David chose to cheat on his fiancé with Leah’s mom and then chose them over us? Is it my fault their children are spoiled and have attacked me, and I fight back? Is it my fault that Bailey is a little dense and can’t pick up the choreography quick enough?” I hissed in frustration. “I’ve never gone out of my way to hurt any of them.”
Bailey was Diane Delaney’s daughter, and she was also my second cousin, or first cousin once removed, or whatever—those genealogy labels had always perplexed me.
Bailey was a really good dancer, but she struggled with choreography and timing. I had started my new schedule at the dance studio this past Monday, and by Wednesday, Zane’s mom Anya had changed our positions in the group number we had been learning. That placed me as the lead in our number.
I really didn’t want to crush any toes, and I had talked to Anya about it, but there was no changing her mind. Anya finally felt she had a team that would place in most of our competitions. The more we won, the more recognition her school received. The more her school got recognized, the more students got recruited in, resulting in more business—and more money—for Anya.
At the end of the day, I couldn’t blame her way of thinking.
“We know that, sweet Pey,” Freddy stated with a frown. “Wanna trick Nan and Flossie into taking a DNA test so that they finally find out they’re sisters?” he asked brightly. “It would wreck their worlds!”
I laughed. “You have issues! As great as that sounds, my stupid conscience won’t allow me to do it.”
“My conscience will.” Freddy grinned wickedly. “I shall sleep on it tonight, and by the end of next week our plan will be in place.”
“There is no we in this,” I quickly protested. “I will have no part in this. With my luck, it will blow up in my face, and once again, I will be taking the blame for someone else's actions.”
“Okay.” He shrugged. “But I’m still doing it.”
“No, you’re not,” I insisted.
“Yes, I am.” He grinned back.
“G&Gs, we’re on in five minutes,” Selena called out brightly.
G&G was “guys and girls” in Selena speak. Selena had a thing about nicknaming everyone. I had the same habit. In my phone contacts, people were renamed in ways I liked to remember them. For instance, Kyler was once Wiley− like the Coyote− because he was relentless in the pursuit of me. Now he was Baby, since he requested that the nickname be exclusive to him only. Crew was listed in there as Riggins because of his uncanny resemblance to Taylor Kitsch in Friday Night Lights. Golden was BDSM because his initials were GAG, and gags were used in bondage. I contemplated stopping my quirk, but I couldn’t. It was who I was.
Selena had yet to offer me an apology and refused to meet my eyes since our little altercation. Like I said, zero backbone.
Seriously, I was beyond furious at her now. She allowed those PTA moms, my wicked non-stepmother, and my unwanted cousin to rake me over the coals. She entertained their lies and helped with their tales. I was pretty sure, come Monday morning, everyone would be talking about me sleeping with Crew and Golden. That rumor had sprouted from her lips.
I debated telling my grandfather over breakfast in the morning about what transpired this afternoon. David and Catherine Delaney might have thought they ran this town, but they forgot that my grandfather still held all the trump cards. A few weeks ago, I would have scoffed at myself for thinking that way, but that was before I realized what a good man my grandfather was and how the rest of the family had been deceiving and hiding things from him this whole time.
Recently, we made it a weekly thing to have a meal together. In fact, this past Sunday, Grandpa’s driver, Henry, had accompanied him to Golden’s, and they had spent the whole day with us. Maisie had been over the moon to spend time with Grandpa. She never knew her grandparents, and Grandpa and Mr. Jenkins, the next-door neighbor, had gladly told her that they would fill the role.
If I had time during the week, I would visit my grandfather and spend a little bit of time with him. It was still hard for me to forget that he didn’t know that Sean, my stepdad/uncle, had been abusing me and my mother. My grandmother, now deceased, had aided and covered up Sean’s sins. I still struggled with anger; not at him but at my sperm donor. Dearest Dad had taken away time I could have spent with my grandfather. He had not only made me the unwanted bastard child, but he hadn’t even given his father the chance to reject me, not that he would have.
It was clear from the beginning that my grandpa and I were equally stubborn. Both of us were strong-willed, but we were also generous and unselfish. Our bond was being forged relatively quickly because of our similarities and how my looks were a constant reminder of what he had lost.
I had a feeling he was using me as a coping mechanism for the loss of his daughter Ava. He had never spent the time he should have with her before she disappeared. I didn’t mind it, though. He already clarified that we shared some traits, but I was “stronger and less spoiled” than his own daughter had been.
The whistles blew for halftime, bringing my focus back on the game. We were up by twenty-one points. I cheered and clapped. The boys took off to the tunnels to have their break and pep talk.
“Peyton!” I heard my name being yelled.
I looked around. We had less than two minutes until we were on.
“Pey?” I heard my name once more.
I finally spotted Paxton near the tunnels. He had Crew and Zane beside him, and his camera around his neck. Paxton was one of my…boyfriends, friends, or whatever. He was my most sensitive but comical one of them all. He was also hot. Okay, truth—all my guys were. He kept his light brown hair cut short on one side, and the other side was longer and had a habit of falling in his golden hazel eyes. He was probably the leanest one of them all but still built with plenty of muscle. He loved taking pictures, and he always had this artistic look to him. He never left the house without his rings on his fingers, studs in his ears, and his tongue ring.
I smiled, and he waved me over. I decided to see what he wanted.
“We go on in two minutes,” Leah said coldly.
“Exactly,” Heather, the other captain, stated. “So, she has time to see her friends. Go ahead, Peyton. Ask them if they're coming to my party tonight with you. Remember your bathing suits.”
I smiled at her. “Will do, thanks!”
Heather was really growing on me. I liked her. I think she was getting tired of the games Leah enjoyed playing, too. She had been sticking up for me more and more lately during class. This was also the third party I had been invited to, and I hadn’t attended any of them. Maybe I should tonight…
I caught up with Paxton. “What’s up?” I asked him, smiling, valiantly trying to put what happened earlier behind me. After spiraling into the black hole of my depression over a week ago, I was trying to let things go and not let things affect me as much. “You guys are so amazing tonight!” I nodded to Crew and Zane.
Zane gave me a broad smile and a “thanks” while Crew gave me a nod. I knew that was Crew’s way of saying he had shut down. He was trying to process the attack launched on him. He wasn’t the greatest of communicators; he liked to internalize a lot. I knew mowing people down was helping him “cope” with it, but it still wasn’t enough.
“Crew,” I whispered to him as I pushed a lock of hair off his face. “What those bitches think doesn’t matter. It’s what we know, your…family, that does. We know you’re not the man they want you to be.”
He nodded once more, but I knew he still wasn’t mollified.
“Come on, boys,” Coach Carson yelled from the tunnel.
“One moment, coach,” Paxton yelled, brandishing his camera. Pax was looking at us with curios
ity, knowing something had happened. I would have to tell the other guys what transpired earlier. They weren’t going to be happy either.
“Yearbook,” he explained to Coach.
Paxton was head of the yearbook committee. He had spoken to the advisor for the club, who had agreed to allow me to take pictures for the school. The advisor also excused me from attending all their meetings. I was already juggling a lot with school, dance, and now yearbook, but I was determined to make it all work.
Coach Carson gave him a nod. “One minute. That’s it.”
“Thanks, Coach!” Paxton yelled back. “Get together,” Paxton urged us. “I want some good pics for the yearbook this year.”
I could see that Crew wasn’t in the mood to take pictures. Zane leaned over and whispered to him. Crew nodded, and I nearly yelped when they picked me up simultaneously. They laid kisses on both sides of my cheeks.
I laughed. “You guys are nuts!” I cried out. “The whole school is already going to think I’m hooking up with Crew and Golden as it is!”
They had their arms beneath my buttocks and thighs, and I had to grip their shoulders so I wouldn’t fall.
“Let them.” Zane smiled smugly. “Now they can think I’m in on it, too.” His eyes were full of mischief, and I had to resist the urge to kiss him. I still hadn’t tasted his luscious lips, and the impulse was overwhelming at the moment.
“This should be an interesting story,” Paxton muttered with a smile. “Now, all three of you look this way. And let them talk, Peyton…they will anyway.”
I put my arms on their shoulders and smiled at Paxton. He was right. I already noticed the looks we got in school. Everyone was speculating who I was with. I was always with one of them, if not all. And the truth was, I didn’t care what they thought about me, because for the first time in what felt like forever, I was truly happy.
“Come on, Illegitimate Harlot,” Leah called peevishly. “We need to start our routine.”
I felt both guys stiffen beneath me, and I patted them reassuringly. I’d learned quickly to be impervious to her insults. If I showed her any reaction, she would feed off me like a mosquito on a hot summer’s night. Silly girl didn’t realize I knew her buttons, too, but unlike me, she hadn’t learned the art of hiding her emotions.
