Blinking at the screen, reality slams into me hard. No one’s going to call. To them, I’m dead. Even my own boyfriend of two years, Kevin, ended it between us last night. A stabbing pain courses throughout my body as tears roll down my face.
Sobbing quietly, I notice my door springs open and I roll over to my side. Wiping away any stray tears, I sniffle. “What?”
“Um, I thought I made myself clear yesterday. School tour. Today. In the morning,” Caleb says in a cold tone.
I thought Mom told me this kid was smart. He seems a few French fries short of a Happy Meal. “And?”
“And nothing. Get your ass up. We need to do this now.”
I snort. “As if I care what you want me to do. Go away.”
“Let me be clear, you spoiled little brat. I’m not playing games with you today. I’ve got practice and other shit I gotta do. And I’m not about to be late and run laps so that you can throw a damn tantrum.” He yanks open a box marked clothes and tosses a pair of my skimpy shorts and a t-shirt at me. I’m so not wearing the clothes I clean the house in outside. “You’ve got three minutes. I don’t care if you haven’t changed, or all you’ve got on is a pair of shorts and freaking bra, I’ll drag you out of this house kicking and screaming.”
The heck he will. I fold my arms over my chest and glare at him. “Whatevs.”
He shuts the door and I stay on my bed. He can kiss my butt. If Caleb Morgan thinks he can talk to me like that and I’ll just do whatever he says, he’s got another thing coming. Idiot.
My door opens again, and Caleb looks over at the clothes, then at me. “Fine.” He marches over to me. Fingers bite into my arms and he yanks me to my feet. I kick his shins, and aim at other body parts, but he continues to drag me out of the room. My door slaps shut. Caleb all but carries me down the flight of steps and out the front door.
I’m in full protest the whole time. “I don’t have shoes, jerk!”
“I told you. But I knew you’d be like this so I put your tennis shoes in the car.”
A car with screaming girls passes by the house, honking their car horn. My socks dig into the lawn immediately. Caleb waves at the passing car. Once they’re at least three houses down the road, he turns his attention back to me.
“You’re trying to get me killed out here!” I scream.
He gives me a stupid smirk. “Get over yourself, Bulldog. Like it or not, we have a tour to get over with and unlike you, I have friends here. I wave to them. I talk to them. And I sometimes date them. Let’s go.”
“No!”
“Have it your way.” He wraps his arms around my waist and hauls me over his left shoulder.
Balling up my hands, I beat them furiously against his backside. “Put me down! You stupid, arrogant jackass, I mean it!”
Caleb doesn’t let up. He somehow opens his car door and places me down in the passenger seat. “Shoes are on the floor, brat. If you want to keep your limbs I suggest you keep them in the car.” I huff and he slams the door shut.
The door to the driver’s side pops open and from the corners of my eyes, I watch him slide against the gray interior. I pick up my shoes and give him a disgusted look. “These are my cleats.” I dangle them in front of his face.
He shrugs like this is nothing that concerns him. If I didn’t hate him so much right now, my OCD side would compliment him on the impeccably clean inside of his VW Passat. “I refuse to do this! I’m not stepping foot in that school and if you attempt to manhandle me again, I’ll bite you.”
Caleb starts the engine and laughs. It’s one of those deep, melts-butter kind of laughs. The kind you don’t mind hearing, because when you do, it’s a treat. Kevin has a similar laugh. God, I miss home. I miss my boyfriend. My friends. My life. Why is this nightmare not ending?
“Hey. Hey? Shit…I’m sorry. Look, you don’t need to cry,” he says as he starts to reach across my seat, toward his glove compartment. I slap his hand away. “There are some tissues in the glove.” He doesn’t try to reopen it though.
I don’t bother with them and just use the sleeve of my t-shirt. “Can we pretend that we did this tour thing?”
“Gee, there’s a thought.” He turns his glare toward me and shakes his head. “Oh, wait…no. If you think I’m going to let you have something to hold over me, you’re clearly mistaken, Fletch. That’s not how this works. See, I, unlike you, still have a life, and I plan on living it. So, when Erin or my uncle asks you about the tour you won’t have the answer of ‘What tour?’ and then I won’t end up grounded.” He makes a noise. And to think, for a second there I actually thought he could be decent. Pffft! “I hope for your sake Erin stocks up on steaks. I’m predicting a lot of black eyes and busted lips, possibly some bald spots in your future.”
I gulp. As much as I want to punch him in the bad area while he’s driving his precious car to his craptastic school, his words ring true. My mother deserves to be locked up for doing this to me. “Why, outta all the people on the planet, did she have to fall in love with him?” I ask, more to myself than to Caleb.
“Trust me, I haven’t got an answer to that question either. I think Erin is great. But this isn’t exactly helping my own situation. I get my balls busted every day for my uncle and his damn surprise quizzes in chem. Now, I have to deal with a Bulldog and her mother living with us. And not just some random Bulldog either. No, it had to be the famous Skylar Fletcher.” He shakes his head.
“Well, Brian should’ve stuck to his pop quizzes instead of scouting my softball game. No, I take that back. He shouldn’t have tried to play hero of the day and caught my klutzy mother mid-trip.”
Caleb glares at me. “Don’t blame my uncle for this! Your mother should at least know how to walk without falling. Dude, she’s had what? Over thirty-five years to practice?”
Okay, I admit he has a point. My mother can’t walk and talk at the same time to save her life, and yet, she attempted to do just that going down a set of bleachers at my softball game. If she had some balance and, I don’t know, a sense of direction, we might not be in this mess. At the same time if Brian would’ve let her fall like any other Bobcat fan would’ve done, we wouldn’t be in this mess either. They’re both guilty of ruining our lives.
“No arguments?” he says in an overly satisfied voice.
I sink lower in my seat and sigh. We’re in the parking lot of Delmont High. My insides knot with queasiness. This is it. If I enter, it’s like I’m accepting to no longer be a Bulldog. I can’t.
I stare at the well-spread-out campus.
“Give me your schedule.”
I glance over at Caleb and give him a “What the hell are you talking about?” look. He shakes his head and points at the yellow paper by my feet.
“Give me.” I snatch it and toss it on his lap. “Thanks.”
Chapter 4
Caleb
We sit in the car for at least fifteen minutes before my irritation returns and I decide to pull her out of my car. At first, she kicks, screams, and pounds her fists against every area of my back. This has no effect on me. She seems to figure this out and decides to try a new technique. She somehow monkeys herself over to my side and clamps her teeth into my skin.
“Motherfucker!” I drop her instantly on her ass and clutch my side as pain shoots in every direction. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I warned you!”
Damn her! She has me on that point. I didn’t think she’d actually do it though. If she was five I would’ve thought differently but shit, she’s eighteen or about to turn it.
“Keep your mouth to yourself. For all I know you’ve got rabies.”
She snorts as she stands. “Newsflash, dumbass, I’m not foaming at the mouth. But don’t worry my teeth will never come near you again as long as you keep those groping ape hands away from me. Clear?”
“Let’s get this shit over with.” I march forward. Once I’m halfway to the doors, I glance back. She’s actually following. A permanent scowl is o
n her face, but I don’t really give a crap about that.
Opening the side door, I wait for her. I should slam it in her face, but I don’t. A part of me knows how much this must suck for her. The other part wants her to be so freaking miserable it isn’t funny. Especially, after she decided to go all dog and bite me. Crazy bitch.
I glance down at her schedule and make my way through the long hallway then up the flight of stairs labeled “C wing.” Up on the third floor, we walk down two more halls and I stop at room 310. “Here’s where your social psychology class is, hopefully you learn something in there.”
She curls her upper lip and mouths, “Hopefully you learn something.”
“Right. Moving on to your next class.”
We work our way over to the next flight of stairs and head down to the basement floor. Over in the E wing, at room 12, I chuckle. “And this is Italian IV.” Of course she’d take Italian for four years. So she’s one of those stuck-up, wannabe chicks who dreams of going abroad and sucking down wine all day. Dream on, girl, dream on.
“What’s so funny about taking Italian?”
I’m not answering her stupid question. If she wants to take the most pointless language on the planet, that’s her choice. With a schedule like hers I don’t know why she’s not taking Chinese or freaking Japanese.
She taps her foot. “Well?”
I shake my head. “When are you going to use it?”
“When I go to Italy with my dad next summer. Any more questions you want to ask me?”
I can see the challenge in her eyes. She wants me to mock her again so she can twist it around and make me look like a dipshit. I sort of feel like one, but it’s not enough to stop me from asking her, “Why don’t you live with him?”
She looks down at the tiled floor and sighs audibly. “He’s a professor in New York. He’s constantly working—lectures, papers, whatever.” She bites her lower lip and looks away.
“So you believe he’s too busy for you?”
Skylar shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. Can we not talk about my dad right now?” She stalks off and it makes me curious. What’s she hiding?
I could pry but then that would leave a door open for her to do the same. My own past is a closed door, and won’t be revisited any time soon. So instead of questioning her more, we continue down the hall in silence. Working my way to the B wing of the building, I zigzag us through different halls until we reach room 204. “Civics is here and two doors down is World Literature.” I can’t believe we’ve got these two classes together. I’m not about to tell her either, who knows what stupid shit she might pull next.
In silence, we make our way back to the basement area and into the commons. “This is the lunch area. Over there”—I point to the right, away from the large open space filled with round tables and chairs—“that’s the new gym. And over to the left behind that oval glass window is the pool. Of course you know that.”
She nods. “Yeah. What’s next?”
“Do you want to see the pool?”
“No.”
Moving along we walk up a flight of stairs and make our way to the B section again. “That’s the main office,” I say as we pass by it. I glance down at the yellow sheet of paper and shake my head. What a nerd. “AP Calculus 2 is right here,” I say, stopping outside the door marked 105.
We go to her last three classes—physics, weight training, and then the last one, journalism. This tour is officially over and it’s time to go home. We start to make our way through the commons again but piles of students start to pour into the school as if it was the first day. Shit! I shove Skylar down the small hall leading to the boys’ bathroom. She glares at me. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Shut up! Go in there.”
She shoots me a look like I’m insane. “Are you joking? I’m not going into the boys’ bathroom.”
I don’t care what she thinks she is or isn’t going to do, and push her into the room. Her eyes are wide. She takes a swing and lands a punch in the same side she bit me earlier. I groan but try to keep my attention on the noise outside the door.
Girls giggle and one of them shouts, “Where are you going, Derrick?”
“I’ve gotta take a leak. Be right back.”
Are you kidding me with this mess? My best friend will not see me with Skylar, not if I can do something about it. The door to the restroom starts to open. In a full-on panic, I shove Skylar into one of the empty stalls and dive in after. Locking the door behind us, I shift and face her. She opens her mouth. I silence her by doing the only thing I can think of doing to shut someone up—covering her mouth with my hand.
I peek through the small crack between the door and frame of the stall. Derrick is taking forever. Skylar, to my surprise, is actually keeping quiet. Her hot breath beats off my palm. It doesn’t bother me, but when her tongue rakes across my skin, I cringe.
“Goddamn it!” I yell as she purposely spits more saliva against my palm. I remove my hand and wipe it against my shorts. She’s smiling. I want to strangle her.
“Morgan? Is that you?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Damn her! “Yeah.”
Derrick pounds on the stall. “Dude. You all right?”
“Puking,” I lie. “I’m hungover.”
“Nice. You’ll feel like a champ once you get it all out. Want me to tell Coach?”
I glance down at my watch and shake my head. I’m supposed to be in the weight room in less than ten minutes. This situation can’t get much worse. Skylar narrows her eyes and pushes me against the door.
“Fine. Be out in a minute.” I glare at her. She tries to shove me again but I wrap my hands around hers. “Stop it,” I whisper through clenched teeth.
“All right. Later, bro.” A few seconds pass and I hear the bathroom door open then slam shut with the typical loud bang.
Skylar rolls her eyes at me. “I was trying to get you to go with him. I could have made it to your car undetected.”
“Then say it, don’t shove me.” Crazy freaking chick! I hope she doesn’t keep going through life thinking everyone’s a mind reader.
“Right, because you haven’t been doing that to me all day long. I guess those rules only apply to you. Thanks, you abusive jerk.”
I open the door to the stall and growl. “I’m not abusive. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Chapter 5
Skylar
When Caleb drops me off at Brian’s he says two words: “Later, nerd.” If I have to put up with him for one more day, let alone a whole school year, I will just die! He’s beyond annoying, and he’s got absolutely no gentleman-like manners. Stupid ape!
I slam the front door as soon as I enter the house. My mother walks out of the kitchen and asks, “How was it?”
“Let’s see…when Monday rolls around and I’m brutally murdered in one of the halls marked A through E you’ll be happy to know you can easily locate and pick up my discarded remains. Oh, and thanks to Caleb, I now know what the inside of the boys’ restroom looks like.” I wink and head upstairs to my temporary room, which was formerly Brian's spare room.
Crashing against my thick black comforter I let all the morning events sink in. Monday is going to be here before I know it. If my mother isn’t going to take this serious, then it’s time to start thinking about a plan B. I’m a Bulldog on enemy lines, after all. What better way to start off the school year than to pull off the biggest and greatest prank either school’s ever seen?
Hmmm…last year, a group of overly school-spirited kids torched our mascot’s bulldog face into Delmont High’s soccer field followed with “We own you!” Of course, then later in the year our pool was vandalized with gold dye. Yeah, the water looked like pee, and a banner hung on our back wall that said: “Tag! We just marked our territory! Enjoy your swim, losers!” Okay, I admit that was pretty clever and amusing.
I chew on my lower lip. Do I want to get caught? If I were expelled for damaging school property it would totally dest
roy Mom’s stupid living arrangement. But it would totally screw my chances of getting into Duke University, my absolute dream college. Yes, I have a free ride to my dad’s college, but I don’t want to take it. Taking that means I forgive him for totally ditching me. And, yes, I talk to him and see him, but I still can’t forgive him all the way. Plus, I want to earn my way into college. I certainly didn’t spend three years studying, getting straight A’s, and taking extra AP courses to ruin my chances of getting into Duke over some prank. My life is kind of on the line, though. Come Monday, I’m going to be Delmont High’s official punching bag. Under no circumstances will I become a Bobcat.
The hours tick away. A well-detailed plan of the school lies across my floor. Stacked, unopened boxes from the small U-Haul help hold down the corners of the map. Tapping a pencil against the paper, I sigh. What kind of prank would be history worthy?
I hear the front door slam shut. A set of footsteps pounds up the stairs and passes my room. My heart pounds like crazy, while nervous pent-up energy fills me. Quickly I snatch the comforter off my bed and toss it over the large map on the floor. “Gotta grab something,” Caleb calls out.
“Hey man, can’t we chill here?” some deep male voice shouts up.
Tap-tap-tap outside the room sets my nerves on edge. I wipe my forehead with the sleeve of my shirt and watch my door spring open. “Hey. Um. My friend Derrick is downstairs. Could you…I don’t know, stay up here?” I should nod so he leaves. “Skylar?”
I blink. “What? Yeah. Sure.”
Caleb narrows his eyes. “So…you’re cool not leaving the room?”
“Yeah. Fine. Not leaving the room. Go away.”
“Caleb! Liv! It’s dinner time!” my mother hollers.
Caleb’s eyes widen and he smacks his forehead using his hand. “New plan. Run into the dining room when I say ‘blasted’ and stay there…”
I scowl at him. “I’m not doing that.” Pushing past him, I bend over a suitcase near the closet. After about five seconds of sifting through the items in there, I pull out my favorite Denver Broncos sun visor. I pull it down over my loose dark curls and pull it back up to my forehead, so it covers my eyes while my hair hides everything else.
Rival Love Page 2
