Текст книги "Naked"

Автор книги: Stacey Trombley

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter Thirty-One

When my alarm goes off and I roll over, my body feels like lead. Every movement is stiff, painful. It’s not a feeling I’m new to, but it’s strange that I’m feeling it now. It’s not like anything actually happened last night, nothing physical, anyway.

Still, my head pounds and my body feels heavy. I drag myself out of bed because I refuse to feel sorry for myself. Step number two for surviving the streets is to keep moving. Keep fighting. Always, always fighting.

I have no idea what today will bring, but I do know that it will be one hell of an uphill battle. I’ll feel better if I can get through it. If I let it stew, it will drive me crazy. The only way to move on is it to get the worst of it over with.

When I leave my room, I remember Zara, whom I fell asleep with, but she isn’t in the room anymore.

Shit. I should have gotten up earlier. If my dad sees that I let her inside…

I walk out into the kitchen, bracing for the worst, but I see Zara scarfing down a bowl of dog food while my mother does the dishes. That’s interesting.

“Oh, sweetheart. I was going to let you sleep in a little and drive you in myself.”

I shrug. “That’s okay. Where’s you-know-who?”

“You know your father. Work, work, work. He left before the sun came up.”

Yikes. I never even thought about that. Getting up early to let Zara out would have put me right in Dad’s path. I should feel comforted that I got so lucky, but all I can think is how even that careful plan so quickly got away from me. I really don’t know what I’m doing.

When Mom looks at me, her eyes are slightly creased, like she’s trying to read my mind.

“I kind of just want today to be a good day,” I say.

She nods. “Then let’s make today a good day.”

Maybe my mother really has changed. Maybe she doesn’t see me as the hooker in her house. Maybe she sees me as the daughter she lost but got back.

Great. One more person to disappoint.

I’m so numb that I’m not even surprised when I find a new crumpled note in my locker the next day.

I knew he had more to tell me, more he wanted from me.

I knew this wasn’t over.

It was only a matter of time before he made his intentions very clear.

The note reads:

You see what happens when you don’t give me what you owe me?

You’re going to give it to me or I’ll tell everyone.

But I’m generous. I’ll take half. One last time, then I’ll let you go. Nothing is too much for my beautiful Exquisite.

I crumple the note and throw it back into my locker with the rest. I’m too scared to even throw them away in case someone reads them. They might be vague, but their words carry too much weight.

I let the numbness take over. I can’t think about any of it. Not now.

I avoided Jackson on the bus by letting my mom drive me in, and now I avoid him at art class and lunch. He sits with his old friends, which, if I’m honest, kind of stings. But he’s only doing what I told him to do. He’s respecting what I want. And I told him to leave me alone.

His friends must be eating it up, telling him, See? We told you she was bad news.

Well, they were right. Being with me just got him hurt. My only comfort is that pushing him away will save him from even more pain.

Alex talks a mile a minute about some college party she’s going to this weekend while both Jen and I sit in silence, pretending to listen.

“Okay, what’s up?” Alex says, like she’s accusing me of something.

“What?”

“Last I saw, you and Jackson were as chummy as ever, and now you’re all solemn and he’s avoiding us all.”

I shrug and look over to his table. Our eyes meet, and he looks away like he’s been caught doing something wrong.

“What happened?”

Jen perks up a little, like she’s finally interested in something we’re talking about. Great, even she’s into my life drama.

“We got in a fight, kind of,” I say.

“About what?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” I grab my books, leave the table, and stomp all the way out of the cafeteria. I shouldn’t start shit with the only friends I have left, but I can’t handle being interrogated right now. Nothing good ever comes out of being questioned.

I head to the bathroom to hide out the rest of the lunch period, and when I shut the stall door behind me I realize I’m not the only one with this idea. The girl in the stall next to me is sniffling like she’s trying desperately to stop crying.

I ignore it at first, ‘cause it’s none of my business, but even I can’t ignore a poor person suffering.

“You okay?” I don’t say it to be all warm and fuzzy nice, but it comes out softer than I expect it to.

“No,” the girl whines.

I take in a deep breath and try to channel the people who have made the most difference in my life. People like Jackson and Sarah.

Except I have no idea what to say. Do you want to talk about it? is too cheesy, so what else?

But maybe it’s not about being like Jackson or Sarah. About being like someone else. It’s about being me. The me who has enough power to help someone else, even if I can’t help myself.

“Whoever made you cry deserves to get the shit kicked out of them.” Probably not the best advice in the world, but it felt good to say it. “You have to get your power back.”

I don’t know who this girl is, or what’s making her cry. But there’s truth in what I said. I don’t have any more power. But I can help her get hers. I’ll do anything to make sure no one else ends up as hopeless as I’ve become.

“How?” she whispers.

“Guess it depends. What is it that’s making you feel so bad? So weak.”

“My boyfriend…he’s blackmailing me.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “How?”

She pauses, and for a second I wonder if she’ll tell me. Then she whispers, “A video on his phone.”

Oh shit. I lean over and look at the shoes of the crying girl I’m giving horrible advice to. Sparkly black flats, probably stupid expensive.

“Marissa?” I ask.

The silence in the bathroom is thick, charged.

“Who the fuck are you?” she asks, her voice deep, no longer the sniveling weak girl I thought I was talking to. I sit still, frozen, as the girl slams open her stall door and stands in front of me, tapping her stupid sparkling shoe.

Slowly, I open my own stall door, a shy smile on my face. “Hi there,” I say, a little nervous but mostly wanting to laugh.

This would only happen to me.

Her face fades from anger to surprise as she registers who I am. “How did you know?” she asks, her face blank.

I shrug. “I heard you talking about your boyfriend in that bathroom once, remember? Wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”

I know a jacked-up relationship when I see one. At least, now I do. I’ve been there too many times now.

She takes a step back, almost stumbling like she’s too tired to keep fighting. “You’re the only one. I’ve been practically begging someone else to figure it out, one of my friends to tell me what to do.”

“Guess I tend to see guys for the assholes they really are.”

She leans onto the porcelain sink. “You got probably the only nice guy in the school.”

“Got? No, I never got him, and if I did, it didn’t take me long to lose him.”

“Really?” She looks up, her eyes still bloodshot.

I nod. “But it’s not me that needs the help now. What can we do about this douche bag boyfriend of yours?” Maybe I can’t change my own past or fix myself, but if I can stop something bad from happening to someone else, I’m going to try. I won’t be weak anymore.

“I don’t know…” she whispers. “I’ve tried getting my hands on his phone, but he won’t let me near it. Not like that would matter. He has it saved on his computer, too.”

“Has he sent it to anyone?”

She shakes her head. “He likes to keep all the power himself. He shows his friends sometimes, though.”

“That’s good. We only have two places we need to get to, then. It’s not impossible.”

“How? I’ve thought of everything. I even thought about telling his mom, but he’s told me he’d send it to everyone he knows if I ever tell.”

“We’ll just have to do both at once.” I say it before I even really think about it. Truth is, I’m happy to have something to distract me. Something important.

She blinks.

I’ve known too many guys like Brandon, and I won’t let them keep winning. This time, it’s my turn.

“I’ve got an idea.”

I know I only have a minute or two before the bell rings to end lunch, so I’ve got to work quickly. I rush into the cafeteria, and I swear a hundred sets of eyes turn to watch me. That’s not awkward or anything.

Jackson watches as I run excitedly to Alex and Jen.

They’re sitting there awkwardly, Jen flipping through a textbook and Alex picking at one of her fingernails. Have they been like this since I left?

“Whoa, what’s up with you?” Alex says, looking up when I reach the table like I pulled her from something riveting.

“I need your help with something.”

Both of them look at me expectantly but say nothing.

“It’s going to sound crazy, but trust me, okay?”

“All right,” Alex says. “Enough cryptic setup. What is it?”

I smile. “We’re going to help Marissa.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

The only time I see Jackson the next week is when I come by the art room to work on the Eiffel Tower mural. I’ve tried to time my visits with his schedule so that we’re never in the room at the same time, but he must have gotten excused from class, because this time he’s inside.

And he sees me.

I spin around to leave, but it’s too late.

“Anna,” he says.

I turn around and look at him. I want to tell him about Marissa, because I wish he were in on it with us, but a part of me knows it’s better this way.

After another few minutes of silence, I guess he can’t take it anymore.

“Are we ever going to be friends again?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I say, my voice soft and broken.

I want to say something to make it better. Want him to look at me like he used to. But I know there isn’t anything else I can say. Even if any words could take this back, no words should.

My mom is surprised when I tell her I’m going with my girlfriends and not Jackson, but she doesn’t push it.

Dad, of course, is happy to hear the bad news.

“In the end, you’ll see this was the right decision,” he says.

Yeah. If he had his way, I wouldn’t go at all. He’s probably looking forward to me having a terrible time, coming home sad, and ready to never, ever do something like this again.

So screw it. I’m going to have fun tonight.

Jen, Alex, and I get ready in my room, doing one another’s hair and makeup. Even Zara hangs out with us, watching as we goof around and joke about how to give each other the best makeovers.

Alex keeps trying to convince me to get a nose ring or cut my hair into a pixie cut, but Jen is actually beautiful when she’s done with her. She pins her hair into a gentle updo, and after some serious peer pressure, Jen lets Alex take actual scissors to her and give her a side bang. She’s softer this way, less plain. After a little mascara, eye shadow, and lipstick, Jen’s ready to break some hearts. She looks happy, really happy, since the first time I’ve met her.

Homecoming might not be what I was hoping it would be, but this is pretty great, too. I have friends, and I’m helping someone have a little more power. And maybe, just maybe, help me keep a little of my own. As long as they’re around, the janitor can’t afford to show himself.

I just hope we can actually pull this off.

Once we’re all dressed, Alex in her tight black dress with feathers hanging off the bottom, Jen in a long light blue A-cut dress, and me in my black strapless with the pink-and-black zigzag pattern at the top, we sit down to go over the plan.

I thought Jen might be hesitant to go along with this. But if nothing else, my plan brings a confidence into her that I’ve never seen her have. She doesn’t want to hurt Brandon. She’s sweet like that, desperate to not hurt even the bad guys who hurt her.

But she also won’t stand by if she has a chance to stop him from hurting someone else. I just hope this helps her feel like she doesn’t have to live in fear anymore. I hope this lets her know she still has the choice I never had.

Marissa can’t be here because that would tip off Brandon, so Alex texts her to let her know the plan is on. Honestly, we’re not asking much from her. She’s to act normal. Do what she usually does, so Brandon won’t know something is up.

Finally, my mom knocks on the door, tired of waiting for us to finish our powwow and way too eager to take pictures. When we leave the room, I feel like we’re spies or something. This secret, it feels exciting, and I can tell the other girls feel the same.

Mom spends way longer than necessary, pulling us to five different places around the house, getting shots of us all together and each by ourselves, saying she’s sure Jen’s and Alex’s parents will want some, too.

Even my dad stands behind her, watching. Quiet, seething, and always watching. He must be thrilled to see us having a good time, so I put on a big smile and laugh with my friends.

“It’s too bad that boy couldn’t be here,” Mom says. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened?”

I groan.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Rodriguez,” Alex says. “She won’t even tell us.” She sticks her tongue out at me.

I roll my eyes. “I don’t need a date,” I say, defiantly.

“Besides, Czar here is more handsome than any high school boy,” Jen says, her voice light and happy.

“It’s Zara, actually. But she is pretty, isn’t she?”

Zara’s eyes get big when we turn to her, like she’s wondering what in the world we’re talking about. I walk over and lean down next to her and scratch her neck. She lifts her head and licks my cheek.

“Wait!” Mom calls. “Hold that.” She picks up the camera and snaps a shot of me hugging Zara, and I’m pretty sure that’ll be my favorite picture.

Alex drives us to school in her mom’s old Lancer. When we finally pull up to the big brick building, my palms are sweating.

I remember my first moments standing in front of these glass doors. It’s dark now, but really, it’s exactly the same as it was then. I’m the one that’s different. Oddly enough, I’m more scared now than I was then. Because now, I have more to lose.

“I’m so nervous,” I admit.

“I’m excited!” Jen says.

“Yeah, this was your idea. How can you have cold feet?” Alex says.

“I don’t! I’m just nervous. What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then everything will be the same as before. But it’s going to work.”

I nod. No matter what, I’m going to make sure Marissa isn’t the one to blame if this goes bad.

But it has to work. It will.

The parking lot is already dark by the time the dance starts.

I watch the other students walk into the school with their fancy dresses and shirt-and-ties.

We walk through the parking lot, me much too comfortable in the high heels, and I march quicker than Jen and Alex, but I stop when I see a cop car pull into a parking spot. What the hell?

Three boys hop out of the back seat, laughing. The one who hops out first has those sexy glasses, and even from far away, I know it’s Jackson. His father’s in the driver’s seat. I guess he came as a chaperone.

I turn away quickly and keep walking.

As soon as we enter the school building, all three of us stop and stare. Jackson recruited a few guy friends to help with the actual setup of the dance, so none of us have seen it all put together. Jen and Alex’s sign hangs right at the entrance, candles light the path down the hall to the gym, and a little plastic runner leads the way all the way down.

It’s pretty, but it’s nothing compared to the way the gym itself looks. There are lights over both sides of the gym, covering the walls from ceiling to floor. I didn’t even realize we had this many. The Eiffel Tower Jackson and I worked on sits behind the DJ, and it’s beautiful. The background is dark, with hanging little twinkling stars.

We did an amazing job.

I just wish I could share this pride with Jackson.

From what I can hear around me, everyone else seems to admire the work done on the dance decorations, too. The only real proof this is the same sweaty gym we use for classes and games and prep rallies is the floor. There wasn’t much we could do to cover up the basketball court.

“This is awesome!” Jen says, her smile stretching all the way across her face. I grab her hand, and she grabs Alex, and I feel so close to them at this moment. I’ve never been in this position, but now I see there can be safety in numbers.

As kids head out onto the dance floor to dance to the heavy beat music, we just stand there, watching.

Finally, the moment’s over when Alex goes running into the crowd, pulling me and Jen with her. I laugh as I’m dragged onto the dance floor and start dancing with my friends.

It feels good. Surprisingly good.

We take turns gawking when Marissa and Brandon walk in. She doesn’t even look our way, which is good. She’s good at this faking thing. Guess she’s been doing it for a while.

Everything has to seem normal, so our job right now is to have fun. The real mission doesn’t start until a little later in the night. So we dance, and we laugh, and we have fun. Part of me is just pretending to complete the illusion and help Marissa, but it’s not all fake. I’m actually having fun.

Alex messes up her hair by swinging her head around to every song. She’s the kind of girl whose hair should always be down. It’s so pretty anyway. Still, I can’t help but give her a hard time.

“I put a lot of work into that!” I yell over the loud music.

She pulls out one of the bobby pins and flings it into the air.

After a few songs, I see Marissa and Brandon through the crowd, only a few random grinding dancers over. Brandon’s hands are all over her. I hate the expression on her face, complete misery. There must have been a time when she loved him, wanted him, but that time is clearly long gone. That tends to happen when someone treats you like shit.

I don’t know what Brandon deserves, but Marissa at least deserves better than this.

Marissa pushes through the crowd, and as she passes us, she stops to lean in and whisper in my ear, “The decorations are awesome.” I’m careful not to smile at her kind comment, knowing Brandon needs to think it was something nasty. She gives me a wink and then pushes past us, pulling her boyfriend behind her. He gives me a smirk and a wink, and I shiver.

We stay and dance a little longer, and while this is fun, I’m starting to get restless. I want to get this over with.

“Want to get a drink?” I yell out to Alex and Jen, who both nod, and we head back up to the cafeteria. It’s there that I see Jackson.

He’s wearing black slacks, a white button-up, a checkered vest, and a bright green bow tie. Sticking to his too-attractive-for-true-geekiness geeky thing. It’s weird, but it’s so him. So Jackson.

He’s with his goofy gamer friends. They’re debating about something serious, but then again, knowing Jackson, it’s probably about which food item or cartoon character is better. His head pops right up when I stop at the doorway though, his conversation forgotten, and we just stand there for a few seconds, watching each other.

I so wish I were with him tonight.

I shake my head. There’s a reason I sent him away. Eventually, he’ll find out the truth. And the closer we are, the more it’ll hurt when he does. I could deal with it, but I’ll do anything to save him from that pain.

There are a bunch of round tables covered in tablecloths and little Eiffel Towers and candles in the center. We sit at one of them to catch our breath from all the dancing.

“The decorations turned out great, didn’t they?”

I spin to see Jackson standing there, his hands in his pockets and a hopeful look in his eyes.

“They’re amazing,” I say.

Jen and Alex agree. Alex lifts up her cup and says, “Cheers!”

She’s so weird sometimes. We all laugh politely, but there’s nothing else to be said, so after another awkward moment, Jackson says, “I’ll see you around,” ending our conversation much too soon, and he heads back to the dance floor with his friends.

“Think it’s almost time?” Jen asks as soon as Jackson is gone.

My eyes are still following Jackson, but I force myself to turn to Jen. “I hope so.”

It’s been about a half hour, enough for us to get kind of bored dancing, so maybe it’s enough for Brandon, too. We head back into the gym and search through the crowd of packed bodies, hopping and bobbing and grinding to the heavy beats until we finally find them.

Marissa is dancing halfheartedly alone, eyeing up a blond girl now dancing with Brandon.

Yup, it’s definitely time. I nod to Jen. She gets this look on her face like she’s a lioness or something. Brandon is her prey. She hands me her phone and then pushes in.

I like this Jen. Powerful, confident, determined. I hope, after tonight, she’ll be more like this. Happier, stronger.

Alex and I casually drift over to Marissa.

“Game on,” she says.

I lean in and whisper to Alex, “You should probably get going.”

Alex nods and winks dramatically before pushing into the crowd toward the door. Jen has about ten minutes to get where she needs to get to. By the expression on Brandon’s face, she might not need that long.

Marissa and I bob awkwardly and watch Jen work. She grabs Brandon’s upper arm and pulls him down just enough to whisper in his ear. His eyebrows raise, confusion written on his face. Jen said she had this part under control, but I kind of wish I knew what she was saying. Last thing I want is for her to have to relive her own nightmare. But she was pretty damn adamant about being the one to take him down. I think she deserves the right. Even Marissa was okay with that.

The goal is to keep Marissa clean no matter what, just in case it doesn’t work. I’ll take the fall if I have to.

Jen manages to pull Brandon away from the dance floor and to a dark corner, then gets him talking about something. She’s stalling, I know. We need to give Alex enough time to get to his house.

Marissa and I exchange a look and follow them, just far enough that we won’t be noticed. Except someone notices.

“Hey!”

I spin around and nearly run into Jackson.

“Oh, hi!” I say.

“I just wanted to say…” He shifts on his feet, his eyes cast to the ground. Then he lifts his head and our eyes meet. My stomach flips. “You look really nice.”

My lips twitch, fighting a smile. “Thanks. You, too.”

It takes everything I have not to take his hand and go with him to the dance floor, where he could hold me, make me feel safe, wanted.

I glance over my shoulder to Marissa, who’s watching me with impatience written all over her face. Right. Jen needs my help. I can’t leave her to the wolves.

“I’m sorry. I’d love to talk and stuff but…I’ve got to…” How the hell do I explain this?

He takes a step back. “Yeah, no problem. See you around.”

I take a step past him and then turn back, giving him a shy smile. Damn it.

I watch him walk away, back into the crowd. Once he’s gone, I take in a deep breath and head back to finish what I started.

I check the phone, but no word from Alex yet.

Brandon already seems to be sweating this, running his hands through his hair and looking anywhere but at Jen. I take a step in front of Marissa, because I don’t want him to see her watching. Then again, he’d probably think she’s just jealous.

Jen looks at us over his shoulder and winks. We both stifle a laugh.

The phone in my hand vibrates with a message from Alex.

Talking to his mom now.

All of this is riding on Alex’s ability to convince Brandon’s mom of the sex tape on his computer and letting her in to delete it. We have a plan B, but I’d much rather not get into that one.

I make sure Brandon can’t see me, and then I hold up the phone and wave it at her. She nods and pulls him out of the gym, and they walk down the hall to the nearest door outside. Marissa and I sneak down the hall after them.

“Keep out of sight,” I whisper-yell at her. “Don’t let him see you!”

“Shut up. I know what I’m doing!” she whisper-yells back.

Is this what they mean by frenemies? I ignore her defensiveness. That’s just our dynamic. She knows the risks. She’ll be careful.

We reach the end of the hall and stand next to the cracked door and listen to Jen and Brandon.

“Wow. It’s so cold out here,” she says.

“You kidding? It’s blazing inside, this feels good.”

“Give me your jacket then,” she says playfully. I sneak a peek through the crack and watch him place his jacket over her shoulders.

“So what are you doing after the dance?” he asks her.

She casually reaches into the pockets of the jacket but comes away empty-handed. Strike one.

“Going home,” she says, her voice flat. She’s rocking back on her heels now, and I wonder if she’s getting nervous.

“Can I come?” he asks.

Marissa pretends to stick her finger down her throat. I wonder if this is getting to her. Deep down, does she still care about Brandon? Does it sting every time he cheats on her?

It has to hurt. Maybe she’d still be with him if she had a choice. But there’s no worse feeling in the world than feeling like someone’s taken that choice away from you.

Tonight, we have to make this work and give her choice back to her. Back to Jen. Back to anyone Brandon would ever take that choice away from.

It’s too quiet on the other side of the door. My heart pounds. I want to see what’s going on, but I’m scared. I can’t tell if he’s still looking the other way.

But I have to take the risk, so I step over and peek through the cracked door. Brandon is leaning over her, pushing her toward the wall.

Not good. I know it’s part of the plan, but it’s all I can do not to run over and shove him off her.

“I know you’re lying about the pregnancy thing. You just wanted to get close to me again, didn’t you?” he says into her hair.

Damn. Telling him she’s pregnant? That was pretty genius. But now what?

“No,” she stammers, stumbling back, all confidence gone. “I’m telling the truth… I…you…”

He shrugs and leans into her, and when his back turns to me, I see it. His phone, tucked in the back pocket of his jeans.

Bingo.

I take a step forward. Enough of this. Time for a little improvisation. He won’t make her feel weak again, not while I’m around.

“Hey, Jen, don’t keep him all to yourself,” I say with a light, flirty voice.

He looks up, interested. “The slut wants a piece?” He steps past Jen.

Good boy.

Just a few steps closer, buddy.

Perfect.

He’s just inches from me now, and I stare up at his handsome face and smile. “Want to know what we do with guys like you in New York?” I ask him, still flirtatious. He raises his eyebrows, and I place my hands on his shoulders—

And with one quick motion, I push down as I thrust my knee up to his groin.

He groans and bends over. “You bitch,” he says.

While he’s bent over, struggling to contain the pain, I grab the phone from his pocket. I hold on to the phone for dear life and then grab Marissa by the hand and sprint down the hall and into the gym. We should be able to lose him long enough to delete the video before he finds us here.

Jen barely catches up before we push into the crowd of dancers and wonder what took her so long.

We push our way through the room and circle around the phone.

“Hurry,” I say, then pull out Jen’s phone and type a text message.

We have the phone. How’s it going with you?

“I can’t believe we did it,” Marissa says triumphantly. “How’s it going on their end? Did Alex do it?”

Only a few seconds pass before a reply finally comes from Alex, but it feels like forever.

His mom wants to hear it from Marissa.

I show the message to Marissa, who groans.

“I don’t want anyone to know,” she says.

What do I tell her? I had the same problem, and I chose to say nothing.

“What do you want to do?” I say.

She looks back and forth, then at me. “Let’s do it. I won’t be able to live with myself if he gets away with it. What if he does this to someone else?”

She starts forward, but I stand there, her words a heavy weight over me.

She turns back to me and says, “Come on.”

I walk closer to her. The music is thumping so loud it’s hard to talk to each other, let alone on the phone.

We’ll have to find a way outside without Brandon finding us. That means splitting up, just for a minute. Long enough for him to be too busy with me to notice what they’re doing.

“You and Jen go, I’ll find him and distract him,” I say.

I rush out of the gym, first hoping to catch sight of Brandon. He sees me, fire in his eyes, and I run down the hall, toward the door to the parking lot, hoping he’ll follow me so Jen and Marissa can slip past and reach the lobby to make the call.

When I hear the heavy footsteps behind me, I rush faster, outside and into the parking lot.

The second I feel the cool air, I know I made a mistake. It’s dark. I’m alone.

Even if it’s just Brandon behind me, it’s not like I’m exactly safe. So I keep rushing forward until I reach the brightest spot of the lot. All the kids are still inside, having the time of their lives. I should be inside.

I shouldn’t be out here. But if I go back inside now, Brandon might reach Marissa before she can talk to his mom.

I stop to catch my breath, my chest heaving much harder than it should for how much I ran.

Screw this.

I turn—

And see a large figure in the shadows of the parking lot.

“Brandon?” I ask, my heart pounding. Hoping it’s him and not someone else.

But I can’t make out his face. Is it just me, or is that not a suit he’s wearing? I’m imagining the ugly blue uniform, right?

The figure is tall. Brandon’s tall, right? It’s probably just him. Just Brandon. I can handle Brandon.

Then he calls my name, and a chill of the worst kind rushes through me. The kind that feels like a scream trapped inside.

Everything stops. Frozen.

That’s not Brandon.

He comes forward, and I have nowhere to go but backward. Do I run and hide behind the cars? How long until he finds me? My feet feel cemented to their spot.

Now is not the time to panic, Anna!

“Exquisite,” he says, slurring the name and making it sound even more disgusting than it already was.

“What do you want?” I spit.

“I told you I wasn’t through with you. No one can keep me away from you. Not Luis. Not your new boyfriend.” He tilts his head like a damn puppy dog, but I know he’s anything but. Calling him a rat would be too kind to him and too mean to the rat.

“It’s not a school night anymore, Sweet Pea.”

I shake my head. “You won’t have me again,” I say. I wish I felt as confident as I sound.