“Girl Taylor?”
“Yes. I’m now a confirmed bisexual and I expect my success rates to double accordingly.”
“From zero to… double zero.”
She rolls her eyes and faces forward just in time for Tom Lechlie to spit at my feet. They’re moving so he completely misses but I wrinkle my nose. “Ew.”
“Thought you liked it when things are wet.”
I shake my head, not even sure what he means. His whistle as he continues along the corridor suggests he’s pleased with himself, whatever the reason.
“When did everyone get so bloody rude?”
Dee shakes her head. “Dunno. Senior year is about us lording it over the juniors. I don’t know why we’re suddenly turning in on ourselves.”
I try to tell her about Caylon, about the girls at the party, then close my mouth with a snap. She might have forgiven me for abandoning her there, but I don’t want to reopen a conversation which will inevitably lead to her wanting a better explanation than the one I’ve given her. I push the negative thoughts aside as we enter the common room, only to find that every seat is taken.
I glare at a few girls sitting on the sofa but none of them move. Uncertainty rises in me again and I try to ignore it but it’s hard. Everything has shifted and I can’t get a handle on what I’m meant to do about it.
First term, pupils would lunge from their positions to ensure Dee and I got a seat. Now they don’t care.
Zach dumped me, Caylon targeted me, and now they don’t care.
We lean against the wall, and I try not to catch anyone’s eye. It’s so unfair. I spent years working into my position as queen bee of these hallways and in a few short months, everything has been ripped away.
I was somebody before these boys. How did they take all of that away from me? Things should have reverted to the status quo, not been turned upside-down.
“You’re leaning on my wall,” a boy says, and I scowl at him. His surname’s Richardson but I can’t think of his first name. I shouldn’t have to because in the greater scheme of things he shouldn’t be talking to me at all. Certainly not in his current tone.
“Move along, Eddie,” Dee says in a bored voice. “It’s too early and too Monday-ey to deal with your bullshit.”
“If you want to claim your own patch of wall, maybe go someplace you’re welcome.”
He plants himself between us, shoulder touching mine until I jerk away. My eyes feel hot enough to burn but he’s unconcerned. His eyes flick to someone across the room, then back to me, his shit-eating grin widening.
Like he just got a pat on the head for good behaviour.
Under the cloak of my hair, I glance in the same direction, already resigned to what I’m going to see.
Caylon. His face is blank enough to look dead. If it wasn’t for his eyes tramping up and down my body, I’d call him catatonic.
The lack of expression is frightening. He’s always been guarded, but this is a new extreme. A shiver takes hold of me and won’t let go.
My phone vibrates.
I reach for it, ready to obey its bidding, then see Caylon’s gaze fix on it, the frown creasing his forehead. His eyes drift from it up to me, the mocking arrogance clearly visible.
Like I’m some vapid social media whore, reacting to a reminder to post.
The flare of anger at its next buzz sets my brain on fire, energising me out of my slump. I stalk across the room, ignoring the eager glances pupils exchange with each other, sensing confrontation, and joyfully waiting.
“What is your problem?”
His eyes skate up and down me again, resting on my heaving tits for far too long before reluctantly moving back up to meet my eyes. “I don’t have a problem, Em. Do you?”
“You’re pathetic. I said no. Just accept it and move on. I’m sure any of these rejects will be happy to suck your dick. Won’t you, Eddie?”
There’s a titter of laughter across the room and I feel a smidgeon of hope. They’re bored kids, eking out a little fun for their day. They’re not a warrior army, sucking all the enjoyment from the air. Ready to tear me to pieces.
