I’m in the bathroom on Friday afternoon, after the last class of the day, when I’m accosted. I’ve been expecting this so I’m not overly surprised.
“Clear the room,” Cassie snaps at a girl with long coppery-brown hair, and she duly ushers everyone out of the restroom. I continue washing my hands as if nothing’s happening. It’s only when the door lock clicks into place that I turn around and face her. She’s flanked by two girls on either side, and all five of them sneer at me as if I’m beneath them.
“Let’s hear it,” I say, deliberately keeping my voice level.
Cassie plants her hands on her slim hips, fixing me with a derogatory glare. “Let’s hear it? Who the fuck do you think you are? You think you can swan in here and tell me what to do?”
I push off the sink, straightening up, putting my face right up into hers. “I don’t really give a fuck what you think. I’m not here to cause trouble, but I won’t back down from it either. This doesn’t have to be a war, but it will be if you don’t walk away.”
They all laugh, and I work hard to remain calm, something which is difficult when there’s so much pent-up frustration and anger swirling inside me.
She flicks her fingers in my chest, and I see red, grabbing her wrist and squeezing it tight. “Don’t touch me or you’ll be sorry.”
“Shannon.” The instant Cassie speaks, a tall girl with jet-black hair cut into a sharp bob steps forward, grabbing me around the neck from behind. I could get out of it easily, but I let them believe they have the upper hand. Another girl steps up, extracting Cassie’s hand from my grip as if she’s incapable of doing it herself. “Let’s get one thing straight,” Cassie continues. “I’m in charge around here, and if anyone’s calling the shots, it’s me. You will do as you’re told or face the consequences.”
She’s comical, and I have to work hard to quell the urge to laugh in her face. No point being stupid. Even though I’m certain my fighting skills are superior to these girls, I’m still outnumbered, and I’ve been in enough catfights to know girls can be vicious and creative when they need to be.
“So, tell me. What are these rules I have to abide by?” I’m giving nothing away in my tone or my expression, and I can tell that’s throwing her. She’s probably used to girls quivering and falling at her feet, but I’ve faced off against much worse. If she knew me, she’d think twice about this.
“Stay the fuck away from Heath. He’s mine,” she snarls.
Man, she’s so predictable. This is almost too easy. “You sure he got the memo?” I can’t help pushing her buttons.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“He doesn’t seem very interested is all.”
Fire spits from her eyes as she seethes right in front of me. “And you think he’s interested in you?” She barks out a laugh, and her minions join in. “Heath’s not into slumming it, and even if he was, he’d never go for someone like you.” She skims her eyes over me, her disgust mounting as she takes in my scuffed biker boots, skinny black jeans, and black hoodie combo.
I never thought I’d miss my uniform at the Academy, but once I started at Amber Springs High, the public high school back home, I realized how underrated uniforms are. There’s a lot to be said for being a number, one of many attired exactly the same.
I found it more difficult to hide when wearing my own clothes to school.
Although, it’s unlikely I’d find any way to hide in my hometown. Ethan ensured the Simpsons were notorious, and there was no such thing as fading into the background anymore, but I tried hiding my figure behind slouchy sweaters and hoodies, wearing jeans and boots, and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. It was an epic fail in Amber Springs, but I had hoped it would serve me well here.
Now, it seems, it’s only made me a bigger target.
Cassie yanks the hoodie off me, scrunching her nose in disgust at the faded, holey Reckless Scary Bastards shirt I have on underneath. “Do you even look in the mirror? You’re a walking disaster. It’s laughable you think any of those guys are interested in you. They just feel sorry for you. You’re like their pet project for senior year.” She rakes her gaze over me again. “Hell, are you even into boys? Or are you a big, hairy dyke?” She flicks her finger at the shirt. “And what piece of shit band is this? You think it’s cool? You look like some skanky slut. Is that who you are, Blaire? Is that why the guys are letting you hang with them?”
Reckless Scary Bastards is a local band Ethan supported for years even before they hit the bigtime last year. He bought this shirt at their first outdoor arena back home, and he loved it. I’ve taken to wearing some of my brother’s shirts under my hoodies. It helps me feel close to him. To remember all he sacrificed for me. Cassie’s personal insults don’t bother me. I’ve heard way worse, but no one disses the shirt. I’m pissed at her dismissal of something that means so much to me, and I’ve reached my breaking point.
The girl with her arm around my neck isn’t paying attention because it’s way too easy to disarm her. I shove my heavy boot into her foot, and she yelps in pain, automatically loosening her hold on me. Then I shove my elbow into her gut, and she crumples into a heap on the floor. Another girl comes at me, and I level her with a direct hit to the nose, smashing my palm full force into her face. Blood gushes from her nostrils, and she cries out, stumbling on her heel and crashing to the ground.
“Who’s next?” I challenge, and the girl with the coppery hair lunges at me. My boot slams into her stomach before she even reaches me, sending her flying back. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a clenched fist coming at me. I jerk my head back to avoid the full impact, and her fist only glances off my jawline. I come back, swinging, knocking the girl with the sharp black bob back onto her butt. The others are climbing to their feet now, pissed as all hell. They circle me, and I crouch into a fighting stance. If this is going down, I’m putting up the mother of all fights.
“You know what to do,” Cassie commands her crew, examining her nails like this is commonplace for her. Perhaps it is. She maintains position, not entering the fray, happy to watch from the sidelines like all cowards who get others to do their dirty work for them.
They surge together, ganging up on me, throwing punches left and right, but they’re disorganized and lacking muscle, and I have moves thanks to the self-defense classes Ethan insisted I take a couple years ago. I give as good as I get. We trade punches and jabs while Cassie and one other girl sit it out.
“Open this door!” An authoritative voice yells from outside, and we all falter, swiping bloody fingers and sweaty brows.
Cassie levels a cunning look in my direction before viciously slamming her forehead into the wall. My mouth drops open. She sways on her feet, her eyes blinking profusely as a small bump swells in the center of her forehead. “You can open it now,” she tells the other girl, the only one uninjured in the entire place.
She doesn’t need to be told twice, rushing to unlock the door. The principal and vice principal push into the room, instantly surveying the scene. “What on Earth is going on here?”
“It’s all her fault,” Cassie says, her eyes flooding with fake tears. “The new girl attacked all of us when we were just minding our own business.”
The principal levels a stern look in my direction before her gaze sweeps over the other girls. “All of you,” she barks. “My office, right now.”
Chapter Six
All six of us are propped on chairs outside the principal’s office waiting for our parents to arrive. Every time the secretary leaves the room, Cassie hurls insults in my direction, but I tune her out and stare at the ceiling, knowing it’s driving her mad and enjoying that fact.
One by one, the girls are hauled into the office with their parents, each one walking out looking suitably chastised. Without fail, they all snarl or glare in my direction—some of the parents included—and I’m guessing I’m being painted as the
villain, but I’ve endured worse, so I ignore them, continuing to stare at the ceiling as if they’re invisible.
“Ms. Adams.” Principal Ivers calls me in last and I prepare myself for the inevitable lecture. She ushers me inside her office, closing the door after her. “I’m sorry for keeping you waiting, but I was hoping to have this discussion with your parents present; however, I can’t locate either one of them and it’s getting late, so we’ll have to talk alone. If they’ve any questions, you can tell them to contact me on Monday morning.”
She hands me a plain white envelope as she nudges me toward one of the empty seats in front of her desk. “You need to return this letter with their signatures.”
I drop into the chair, embarrassed that neither of my parents are concerned enough about my welfare to ensure they’re contactable. The principal sits down behind her desk and leans forward, clasping her hands in front of her. “I’d like to hear your version of events, please.”
I proceed to fill her in, answering all her questions honestly.
“I understand how difficult things have been for you the last few months,” she says when I’ve finished speaking. “But we don’t condone or tolerate violent behavior at Kentsville High, and if it continues, it’ll become a very serious matter which could end with your expulsion.”
“I didn’t start it, and I’d no choice but to defend myself. They ganged up on me. What was I supposed to do? Stand there and let them beat me?”
She sighs, rubbing a tense spot between her brows. “That is not what the other girls have told me. They all claim you were the instigator.”
“I wasn’t. Why would I start a fight with girls I don’t even know? Especially when I’m trying to settle in with the least amount of attention.”
Principal Ivers is well aware of my, our, situation. We had no choice but to fully inform her, partly because I wanted to use my mother’s maiden name to enroll here, yet I had no formal ID, and partly because we knew all would be revealed once my old school sent over my records. The principal was sympathetic once Mom explained, readily agreeing to accept me after she received the transcripts from Amber Springs and saw my solid academic record. Even when things were shit, I always buried myself in my books, welcoming the focus and much-needed distraction so my grades are consistently high and I’ve a 4.0 GPA.
Although this discussion was conducted over the phone, I felt like the principal understood and was on my side. I told her the abuse I suffered at the hands of other students and my desire to settle as unobtrusively into my new school as possible.
Has she forgotten that? Or she thinks I lied?
She sighs again. “I’m in an impossible situation, Blaire. I have five students all claiming one thing, and you’re telling me the opposite.”
“I’m the only one telling the truth.”
She stares at me in silence for a beat, obviously weighing something up. She wets her lips and fixes me with a solemn expression. “Cassandra McFarland is at the center of enough issues around here for me to believe that, but unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do without sufficient evidence. And fighting on school property is not acceptable no matter who starts it. I have no choice but to suspend you for a week. The other three girls who have admitting fighting back have received the same punishment.”
“And Cassie gets off scot-free?” I harrumph, not that I’m in anyway surprised. Girls like her always come out smelling like roses.
“You confirmed she didn’t physically touch you, and the other girls agree she wasn’t involved.”
“But she manipulated the whole situation.”
“I don’t doubt that, but my hands are tied.” She stands. “I’m sorry your first week has ended so acrimoniously. My advice to you is to steer clear of Cassandra and her friends. It’s only five months until graduation, and then you won’t have to ever see them again. Keep your head down. Focus on your studies and stay out of trouble.” She walks around the desk and opens the door. “I really don’t want to see you in here again, Blaire.” I’m still fuming as I step outside the main building into the fading daylight and stomp down the steps. My parents are going to throw a hissy fit when they hear I’ve been suspended.
The bus is long gone, so I’ve no choice but to make the trek home on foot now. Tightening the straps of my backpack, I zip my jacket up under my chin and start walking, following the path through the parking lot which will lead me out onto the main road.
A car pulls up alongside me a couple minutes later, and I jerk my chin up. “We heard what happened. Get in,” Skeet says from the passenger side of Heath’s SUV.
“I’d rather walk.” I need to expel all this pent-up rage before I explode.
“It’s getting dark, and we’re not taking no for an answer.”
God, he’s so damned pushy. I give up fighting the inevitable, jumping in the empty back seat and pulling the door closed. “Where’s Axel?”
“He’s working,” Heath confirms as he steers the car out of the parking lot.
“I didn’t know he worked. Where?” Maybe they might need some additional help.
“He works at the local auto center,” Skeet supplies while climbing into the back seat alongside me. He tilts my chin up with his thumb and forefinger, examining the fresh injuries on my face. “They’re fucking jealous bitches,” he seethes. “And they’ll pay for this.”
“Don’t get involved. It’ll only make things worse.”
“I know how to put Cassie in her place without it backfiring on you,” Heath cuts in. “They won’t bother you again.”
“How can you guarantee that?”
“My family is close with hers. Let’s just say I have leverage and leave it at that.” My eyes meet his briefly in the mirror, and I see the determination on his face.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’ll only look weak if I let you fight my battles.”
“Trust me, you look anything but weak. Shit’s blowing up online already, and everyone knows you took them on even though you were outnumbered.” Skeet slants me a lopsided grin. My heart plummets to my toes at the thought of my name being bandied around social media, causing all the tiny hairs on the back of my neck to lift in alarm.
“And I got a look at the other girls when they were leaving,” Heath adds. “There’s no denying you can hold your own.”
“This isn’t some big joke, guys. I got suspended for a week, and that bitch Cassie walked away without punishment.”
“You still gave her a nice big goose egg to remember you by,” Skeet teases.
“I gave her no such thing. The psycho bitch did that to herself.”
“What?” Heath glances at me through the mirror, his incredulity obvious in his expression and his tone.
“She slammed her head into the wall when the principal showed up and then claimed I did it.”
“Fuck. She’s even crazier than we thought.” Skeet’s no longer laughing about it.
“All the more reason for you to stay away from her and let me handle this,” Heath says, pulling onto my street. “This is because of me anyway. She’s jealous I’ve been spending time with you, and I should’ve figured she’d pull some kind of stunt.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway.” I peer out the window. “Can’t change what’s done.”
“Will you get any shit for this?” Skeet peers up at my house as Heath pulls into the empty drive. No lights are on, and it doesn’t look like anyone’s home. It’s usually after seven before Mom arrives home from work, and Dad’s been on a downer all week because he hasn’t heard back about that job yet. I’ve no clue where he disappears to each day, but he’s never in the house when I return from school.
I shrug. “Probably.”
“What about the party tomorrow night?” Heath asks, turning around to face me.
“I don’t do parties anyway, so it makes no differe
nce.”
“You have to come.” Skeet links his fingers in mine. “Pretty please?” He pins doe eyes on me, his messy hair almost obscuring them where it falls over his forehead, and it’s hard to hang onto my frustration when he’s so adorably cute.
“If you don’t show up, others will speculate it’s ’cause you’re scared to confront Cassie and her hos,” Heath adds. “We know that’s not true, but they don’t.”
I exhale noisily. “Ugh. All right. I’ll come, but I’ll probably have to sneak out, so park around the block, and I’ll meet you there.”
The house is in pitch-darkness when I step inside and it’s freezing cold, like icy-tentacles-swirling-through-the-air cold. I crank the thermometer to the highest setting, layering a second hoodie around my torso as I start preparing dinner. I’ve been cooking dinner all week so Mom doesn’t have to do it when she comes in. Therefore, it won’t look like I’m trying to butter them up before I drop the suspension bomb.
I make Grandma Adams’s infamous lasagna, homemade garlic bread, and a leafy green salad. I’ve just set the table when the front door opens.
“That smells gorgeous, honey,” Mom says, giving me a quick hug and a grateful smile when she steps into the kitchen. “Thank you.” She presses a kiss to the top of my head and I wish I didn’t have to ruin her good mood with my news. “Where’s your father?” She glances around, her brow furrowing.
“I don’t know. He wasn’t home when I got in.”
Her frown grows, and she pulls out her cell, checking her messages.
“Should we wait?” I ask, turning off the oven and removing the piping hot lasagna.
She shakes her head, tapping away on her cell. “No. Let’s eat. I’m famished. Your father can heat his up later.”
We’re halfway through our meal, and I’m trying to pluck up the courage to tell her what happened when the front door slams and the heavy thud of approaching footsteps rings out.
Surviving Amber Springs: A Stand-Alone Contemporary Romance Page 5
