The front parking lot was closer to my last class on A days. The first class in five years that I'd shared with Tristan Coleman...
"Savannah?" She shifted the car into Drive then looked at me with raised eyebrows, a silent prod to get moving. I climbed out into the pine-scented warmth of the morning, shut the door and gave her a wave goodbye.
Tristan...
His name echoed through my head, fuzzing up my mind with old memories and emotions. An answering tingle rippled up the back of my neck and over my scalp. Ignoring it, I stuffed the forbidden thoughts back into their imaginary box and turned to face the main hall doors. The day was sure to be miserable enough without my stewing over backstabbing traitors like him.
Sure enough, I shoved through the main hall's heavier-than-normal glass front doors and slammed right into the Brat Twins, two of the Clann's worst members. Yep, the perfect start to a fabulous day.
"Watch where you're going, idiot!" Vanessa Faulkner said, brushing off imaginary dirt from her latest Juicy Couture purse.
"Yeah, try looking before you just barrel in," Hope, her mirror-image sister, added. She reached up and patted her perfect platinum curls, the tiny mole to the left of her smirk the only difference between the two sisters.
I glanced around. We already had an audience for my daily humiliation. Great. My hands itched to try and smooth my own wild curls as my stomach twisted into knots. Why did the Brat Twins have to treat me like this? Just because I couldn't get a tan? Because my hair was the wrong color, too frizzy, not shiny enough?
"Well? Aren't you at least going to say you're sorry?" Vanessa demanded.
For a moment, the anger drowned out everything else. What would happen if I slapped that smirk off her face? She couldn't go crying to her precious Clann for the usual revenge. Nanna was retired, Mom worked for a Louisiana-based company and my father owned a national historical-home restoration business. The Clann couldn't touch my family.
Or could they? Several members of the Clann were politicians at the federal level. And Louisiana was within easy reach of East Texas. So maybe they did have enough connections to at least get Mom fired. Crap.
My backpack's strap bit into my hands as I swallowed down all the things I wanted to say and instead muttered, "Sorry."
"Yeah, you are," Vanessa said. She and her sister laughed like hyenas high on helium and turned away.
I should have just let them go and been grateful to get away from them. But a headache pounded at my temples now, and all I could think about was how different things were when we were kids. Back when these girls were my best friends.
As soon as my hand touched her shoulder, Vanessa hissed. Both sisters whirled around to face me again. Shocked by the fury on Vanessa's face, I stepped backward until the wall of lockers stopped me. Whoa. This was nuts.
"Van, why are you being like this?" I made a point of using my old nickname for her. "We used to be friends. Remember Valentine's Day, fourth grade? We held that pretend wedding, and you two were my bridesmaids?" That was the last day we'd all played together, and it was one of my favorite childhood memories. The twins and I had prepared for the ceremony by sitting in a circle on the merry-go-round and braiding flowers into each other's hair. While my first and only boyfriend, Tristan Coleman, had stood beneath the nearby oak tree watching us, waiting for me.
Waiting to give me my first and only kiss...
Everything about that half hour had seemed so sweet, almost magically perfect. But I must have been the only one who'd thought so. Because the next day, all of the Clann's kids had refused to talk to me, not even long enough to tell me what I'd done to upset them. Including Tristan. Ever since, the only time anyone from the Clann spoke to me was when the Brat Twins called me names or "accidentally" shoved me in the hallways.
"We braided daisies into each other's hair," Hope whispered, almost smiling.
She remembered. I nodded, daring a small smile of my own, and eased away from the lockers.
Vanessa's eyes softened for a few seconds, transforming her into the girl I used to know, like she was remembering our former friendship, too. But then her expression darkened again, twisting with hatred. "That day was a huge mistake. Your mistake, for thinking a freak like you could actually be friends with anyone in the Clann. And especially for thinking you could even pretend to marry someone like Tristan."
"Yeah. The Clann does not hang out with freaks like you," Hope added.
So much for remembering the good old days.
I sighed, defeat making me even more tired. "I don't get you two. Or Tristan. You guys used to be my best friends. What did I ever do to-"
Vanessa closed the distance between us so fast I didn't have time to react, her nose nearly touching mine. "You were born, freak. That's more than enough reason to make every member of the Clann hate you for the rest of our lives. Now get. Out. Of our. Way!" Using both hands, she slammed me against the lockers then stalked off, Hope tagging along in her footsteps.
I shouldn't have been stunned. I should have known the past was over and done with and there was no going back. But still, it took a few seconds before I could make my feet move again. My throat and eyes burning, I tried to ignore the way everyone was staring at me and headed for my locker at the other end of the hallway, my chin lifted, as if the encounter had been no big deal.
Three hours later, I flopped into my seat at my friends' table in the cafeteria.
Carrie Calvin's eyebrows shot up beneath her long blond bangs. "A little early in the day to be so tired, don't you think?" She flicked her shoulder-length hair behind her.
I managed a grunt and focused on unscrewing the cap of my tea thermos. Time for another dose of homegrown medicine. Hopefully it wouldn't take too long to kick in this time. Or maybe I should open a vein in my arm and pour it in directly.
As promised, Nanna's special tea had helped during first-period English. But climbing the sports and art building's two flights of stairs to second period pre-drill class, followed by an hour and a half of dancing, had set back my recovery. I felt worse than ever.
"Oh, she's just worn-out from all that dancing she's taken up," Anne Albright said. "You know, twirling with the froufrou tutus at Miss Catherine's Dance Studio. Kicking it in pre-drill with all those sad Charmer wannabes." She tightened her thick, chestnut-brown ponytail and grinned, apparently unable to resist stirring up a little excitement for lunch.