“You’re an arrogant cheater.” I tossed my pool stick aside, letting it clatter to the floor a few feet away. “Sore winners are way worse than sore losers, you know. And you only won because you kept messing me up! You couldn’t keep your fucking hands to yourself long enough for me to make a decent shot! That’s just low. And for another thing-”
Without warning, Wesley lifted me up onto the pool table. His hands moved to my shoulders, and a second later, I was flat on my back, staring up at him as he smirked. He shifted so that he was on the table too, leaning over me with his face only inches from mine.
“On the pool table?” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “Seriously?”
“I can’t resist,” he said. “You know, you’re pretty sexy when you’re pissed at me, Duffy.”
First, I was struck by the irony of that statement. I mean, he used sexy and Duffy-implying I was fat and ugly-in the same sentence. The contrast was almost laughable. Almost.
The thing that really got me, though, was that no one, not even Jake Gaither, had ever called me sexy. Wesley was the first. And the truth was, being with him made me feel attractive. The way he touched me. The way he kissed me. I could tell his body wanted me. Okay, okay. So it was Wesley. His body wanted everyone. But still. It was a feeling I hadn’t experienced in… well, I’d never experienced it. It was exciting and empowering.
But none of that could erase the stab of pain the last word in his statement gave me. Wesley might have been the first to call me sexy, but he was also the first to call me the Duff. That word had been tugging at me, taunting me, for weeks now. And it was his fault.
So how could he see me as both sexy and Duffy at the same time?
Better question: why did I care?
Before I could manufacture any decent answers, he started kissing me, his fingers already locating the buttons and zippers of my clothes. We became a tangle of lips and hands and knees, and the issue was completely pushed out of my head.
For the moment, at least.
“Go Panthers!” Casey yelled as she and a few other members of the Skinny Squad did cartwheels along the sidelines.
Beside me, Jessica was waving a two-dollar blue-and-orange pom-pom, her face glowing with excitement. Jake and Tiffany were having dinner with Tiffany’s parents that night, which meant I got to spend a couple of hours with her… even if that couple of hours was at a stupid sporting event.
The truth was, I hated pretty much anything requiring school spirit, because, obviously, I had none. I hated Hamilton High. I hated the horribly bright school colors, the incredibly generic mascot, and at least ninety percent of the student body. That’s why I couldn’t wait to leave for college.
“You hate everything,” Casey had said to me early that day when I’d explained to her why I had no desire to attend the basketball game.
“That isn’t true.”
“Yes, it is. You hate everything. But I love you. And Jess. Which is why I am going to ask you, as your best friend, to bring her to the game.”
When Jessica had told me she wanted to hang out that night, my first instinct was to just go to my place and watch movies. But Casey’s obligations to cheer at the game had interfered. That might not have been a big deal-Jessica and I could have watched movies on our own-but Casey had to make it so complicated. She wanted to see Jessica, too. And she wanted us to see her cheer. Even if it went against everything I stood for.
“Come on, B,” she said, sounding irritated. “It’s just one game.”
She was irritated a lot these days. Especially at me. And I really wasn’t in the mood to argue with her.
So that’s how I’d been wangled into this. That’s how I’d wound up sitting on an uncomfortable bleacher, bored out of my mind, as the cheers and shouts of the people around me brought on a fucking migraine. Absolutely wonderful.
I’d just decided to drive to Wesley’s after the game, when Jessica elbowed me in the side. For a second I assumed it was an accident, like she’d gotten a little too excited waving her pom-pom around, but then I felt her tug on my wrist. “Bianca.”
“Huh?” I turned my head to face her, but she wasn’t looking at me. Her gaze was focused on a group of people a few bleachers down.
Three tall, pretty girls-juniors, I thought-sat in a row, leaning back on their palms, their legs crossed. Three perfect ponytails. Three pairs of hip-hugger jeans. And then, up the aisle, walked the fourth. She was smaller and paler with short black hair. Clearly a freshman. She was carrying several bottles of water and a few hot dogs in her arms, like she’d just come back from the concession stand.
I watched as the smiling freshman passed out the bottles and food. Watched as each of the juniors took theirs from her. Watched as they gave her less than appreciative looks. She took her seat at the end of their little row, and none of the older girls seemed to talk to her, only to one another. I watched as she tried to hop into their conversations, her small mouth opening and closing again as each of the juniors interrupted her, ignoring her entirely. Until, after a moment, one faced her, spoke quickly, and looked back to her friends. The freshman stood up again and walked, still smiling, down the steps and back toward the concession stand. Back to do their bidding.
When I faced Jessica again, her eyes were dark and… sad. Or maybe angry. It was hard to tell with her because she didn’t show either of those emotions very often.
Either way I understood.
Jessica had been like that freshman once. That’s how Casey and I had found her. Two senior girls Casey cheered with-complete cheerleading stereotypes: bitchy, blond, and bimbo-like-had been bragging about some dopey sophomore they kept as a “pet.” And, more than once, Casey had watched them talk down to her.
“We’ve got to do something about it, B,” she’d said insistently. “We can’t just let them treat her that way.”
Casey thought she had to save everyone. Just like she’d saved me on the playground all those years ago. I was used to this. Only this time, she wanted my help. Normally I would have agreed just because it was Casey asking. But Jessica Gaither was a girl I had no desire to even meet, let alone save.
It wasn’t that I was heartless. I just didn’t want to know Jake Gaither’s sister. Not after what he’d done to me. Not after the drama I’d been through the year before.
And I’d managed to stand my ground quite firmly… until that day in the cafeteria.