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“I know. It also didn’t help that you were well over the legal limit and he was stone-cold sober. Even though James was on your side, he didn’t know you invited him to the party. But I did. My people were in charge of the guest list. That’s why I didn’t push too hard. I figured they would let him go, but I was quite shocked to hear the extent of your relationship.”
“I thought I had the world all figured out. I was going to become an actress and make a movie with Vincent. I was going to love Cush. How could I have been so wrong? I always thought I was good at reading people. Now I’m almost afraid to be friends with anyone.”
“Have you made friends there?”
“I think so, but I don’t really trust my judgment anymore. And, right now, I just feel very alone.”
“Let’s talk about something positive then.”
“Is there anything positive?”
“Yes. I finished the security on your loft. And I have to say, good job. It’s an amazing place. It’s warm and comfortable, yet gracious and grand. It’s just like you. I know you told me you were having a hard time figuring out who you are, but you need to stop thinking you have to be one way or another. You can be all of the things you are at the same time. Picture yourself as a gemstone. You have lots of facets. Someday, you’ll find a man who loves every one of those facets and, by then, some boy named Cush will only be a fond memory.”
“Thanks, Garrett. And I changed my mind. I do want to know. I need to know. Even if it sucks. So, those messages he was sending me. Were you able to track them?”
“No. He’s got something like we do that makes it difficult to trace. If we’d had more time, maybe, but I looked over what he said. There was nothing incriminating. He didn’t bite when you brought up the van.”
“Do you think I really pissed him of with what I said at the end?”
“I sure hope not.”
Friday, September 16th
Naughty ways.
7:40am
Riley says, “So what was up with you being late for curfew last night?”
I snap at him. “What’s going on is I’m up doing your history homework half the night while you snore away.”
My eyes fill with tears. I’m tired and frustrated. As of last night my being here stopped being a new adventure and started being my new life.
I still can’t believe I told Cush I loved him because of a pair of boots. A fucking pair of boots he didn’t even buy.
“Something’s wrong with you. Are you nervous about today?”
“For the away game?”
“No, they a
“Oh, wow, I forgot about that.”
“You look tired. Were you really up that late? Are you upset about something?”
I want to tell him: Yes, I’m horrible. I want to throw myself into his arms and let him hug me.
When I don’t say anything, he wraps an arm around me. I put my face in his chest and let out a little sob.
“Don’t cry. If you don’t win, it’s no big deal. You’ll just have more time to hang out with me and Dallas. I think you’re go
I let out a little laugh, but hug him tighter.
He whispers in my ear. “He’s not very good at it. Now, me. I’m pretty sure I am physic. Or maybe it’s just from experience.”
I back out of the hug and laugh. Then I fold my hands in prayer and close my eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Praying that the freshman girls will be protected from your evil ways.”
“Naughty ways, maybe, but not evil, baby.”
“I still don’t know why I let you call me baby. I should be taking offense at it.”
“It fits.”
“It’s what my stepdad calls all of us girls. It’s kinda comforting.”
As we walk into class he says, “Good. Now give me your worksheet, so I can copy it quick.”
At the end of class, the dean comes over the intercom. “Time to a
Riley jumps up out of his seat, lets out a whoop, picks me up, and hugs me. I don’t get to hear who the other two reps are.
It makes me feel happy.
At least I’m actually following through and getting involved here.
And it’s really not a surprise that I came in second to Benjamin.
I mean he did promise an iPad in every hand. I think some president ran on that platform sometime in history, like maybe during the Depression? Did he promise a chicken in every kitchen, or a cow in every barn, something like that?
A blur.
11:30pm
The rest of today is a blur. Six more classes, lunch, soccer, and lots of congratulations. I get my long-ass detention waved until tomorrow morning, since I have to get on the bus at five for the trip to the away football game. I talk excitedly with Maggie and Katie about tonight’s party then dance and cheer for the team.
We lose, though.
Badly.
Now I find myself sitting on the bus next to Aiden. Don’t ask me how it happened. Clearly the fates have collided or something. I really tried to get on Dawson’s bus, but Coach told me it was full and to go get on the other one. And then Aiden had my arm and was guiding me on the other bus, toward the very back, and I was too worn out to resist.
Dawson had a rough game and got sacked numerous times.
Dawson: Why aren’t you on this bus?
Me: I tried. Coach told me it was full.
Dawson: I saved you a seat.
Me: I tried to tell Coach that, but he wouldn’t let me on.
Dawson: :(
Me: I know. But I’m just go
Dawson: Even though I’m not really in the mood to party, we do need to celebrate your victory, Keatyn MonROAR :) I have some tequila shots calling your name:)
Me: Sounds fun <3
Saturday, September 17th
You can call me Shark.
6am.
My alarm goes off at six. I’m, well, I want to say I am tired but, truth is, I’m a bit hung over. Dawson and I did celebrate last night. And I think I had maybe one too many shots. I wasn’t, like, raging drunk or shit-faced or anything, just pretty tipsy and—okay, fine, so maybe I was drunk. Just not hammered drunk in a bad, don’t-remember-what-happened way.
Because I clearly remember what happened.
I wanted to drag Dawson back to his room for some fun.
But he told me no. That I was drunk.
And then walked me home.
I hit snooze three more times, then get up so I’m not late. And, while I’m thanking God that there is no dress code for Saturday detentions, I throw my hair in a ponytail, put on a ball cap, shorts, sweatshirt, and Uggs. I even stop to grab a latte, whole grain muffin, and some fruit.
I’m eating it in the detention room at 6:55 and feeling very proud of myself for being early to detention.
Which, now that I think about it, is extremely uncool.
To my surprise, there are four other kids in Saturday detention, and when the teacher walks out to get more coffee, I ask what everyone did to get here.
(I will point out that I didn't consider the fact that at this moment I am living a scene from The Breakfast Club.)
There is Seth, But you can call me Shark. He got caught taking bets on the elections.
"Oh, what were my odds?”
“You were a long shot to lose, sweets. Legs like that, no way you'd lose.”
Then there is Amanda. Amanda sorta looks like a bad girl: jet black hair in kind of a Joan Jett shaggy cut. I can't decide if she's trying to look rockerish or slightly goth. She’s fu