“You do makeup?” Lily stares at me with a strange expression. I’d dismiss her, but since Zach is staring at her as though she’s the Virgin Mary, it gets my back up.
“Yes, I do makeup. Why? Get sick of looking like you’ve just crawled out of foster kid central, did you?”
“Watch your mouth,” Zach says as though it’s a casual aside, but I’m attuned enough to understand the threat.
My eyes return to Caylon. “You owe me money. I don’t have a rich daddy to bail me out.”
“Why don’t you tell your woes to your boyfriend?” he asks, face blanking out again. “I seem to remember you mentioning one somewhere along the line.”
“This you?” Lily asks, shoving her phone in my face.
I nod, seeing my posting, then my stomach does a somersault at her eager expression, keenly remembering how I’ve treated her in the past and what payback might be headed my way. “Maybe not that one. There are a lot of—”
“Yeah. Got it.” She shoves the phone into her back pocket, easing some of my immediate worries. “I would’ve thought you’d know better than to come over here, wanting sympathy for someone messing with your locker.”
“A few condoms aren’t in the same league.”
Zach laughs, gripping his girlfriend’s arse even tighter. “You’re the one who isn’t in the same league,” he mutters. “If you’ve finished demanding things that aren’t going to happen, why don’t you head on your way?”
“You owe me.”
Lily darts in to attack again. “And you owe me. Do you really expect any of us to cry over you losing a job?”
I know it’s an oblique reference to how I cost her a job at the dairy but the way Zach’s eyes narrow, it might be the first he’s hearing about it.
Coming over here was a stupid idea. Just another sequel to all the other stupid ideas I’ve had in my life.
“What’s she talking about?” Zach asks in a mild tone.
I know that voice. Just like I know the tense muscles bunching along the side of his jaw.
“You owe me,” I tell Caylon one more time before turning and getting the hell out of there.
I’ve probably just made things a hundred times worse.
I’d leave school for the day, but Wilbur’s knowledge of my schedule keeps me in the corridor, heading for class. I don’t need another reminder that his minions are feeding back information on me. All day. Every day. Spying on me from God-knows-where.
My last lesson is physics, so Dee should be there. Another reason to stay.
But she doesn’t show until a few seconds after the bell, whereupon she scurries to a saved seat at the back of the room.
Caylon saunters inside a full minute after her, jerking his chin at Jared who lost the bet to sit next to me. The boy jumps to his feet and slips into a spare seat in the first row, leaving Caylon the open invitation to be my new neighbour.
My eyes fix on the front of the class, trying to ignore him, instead capturing every movement from my peripheral vision.
Wilbur buzzes my phone with another check-in. The first one since this morning.
Knowing that someone in the school is keeping him apprised of developments, I guess he already knows about my makeover, but I still keep the camera pointed away from my face as I take a photo, showing my hands on my desk instead.
“Phone’s away,” the teacher admonishes me and when I glance to the side, Caylon is openly staring.
“Sorry,” I mutter to the teacher, sinking down as low as I can in the seat, forcing myself to stare out the window, wishing the day was over.
Not that the end of the day offers me any escape.
“Take me shopping with you, and I’ll pay,” Caylon suddenly offers, responding to a conversation from over an hour ago. “Where do you usually go?”
“Online.” I toss my phone over to him, showing him the list queued up, ignoring the teacher’s fiery glare because we’re so close to the end of class that it can’t possibly matter.
