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“Yeah, but he’s her horse in the race,” Helen reasoned. “Operation Binding Thirteen, anyone?”
“Ugh, those girls are dopes,” Claire grumbled. “I thought that stupid competition phased out last year.”
“It did,” Shelly said in a sulky tone. “Bella won.”
“Operation Bind what?” I croaked out.
“Binding Thirteen,” Helen repeated, staring at me like I was clueless.
In this instance, I was.
“What does that even mean?”
“The fifth- and sixth-year girls had this stupid competition going last year to see who could get with Johnny,” Claire grumbled. “They called it Operation Binding Thirteen because they’re completely sad and unoriginal.” She pulled a face before adding, “Apparently, Bella won.”
“I don’t get it,” I admitted, mortified.
“Johnny’s jersey number is thirteen,” Claire explained, looking thoroughly disgusted. “And binding is a rugby reference for engaging in a scrum—although I’m pretty sure those girls meant engaging with Johnny in a whole different position.”
“What—why would they do that to him?”
“Because he’s impossibly picky,” Shelly groaned. “And rarely looks at any of the girls around here. He’s a complete snob when it comes to who he’s with.”
“I suppose he can afford to be with the kind of women he’s surrounded by on those tours,” Helen injected.
“True,” Shelly said glumly. “Did you see those girls on their last tour?”
“The model?” Helen asked and gave a resigned nod. “She was like twenty-seven.”
“They were all over the internet.” Shelly sighed.
“Bella won’t be happy with competition,” Helen offered with a grimace. “Shan, you should stay away from him, because she’ll scratch your eyes right out.”
“She’s a bitch,” Shelly agreed. “It doesn’t matter if they’re taking a break right now or not. She’ll go batshit on you.”
“They’re not taking an anything because they were never in a relationship,” Claire grumbled. “They were glorified fuck buddies, guys. It was hardly the romance of the century.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Helen countered. “You know what she’s like, Claire. In Bella’s eyes, she and Johnny are on a break, and she will lose her shit if anyone gets in her way.”
“I wasn’t with him,” I choked out, the fear of having my eyes scratched out by a sixth year making my stomach churn violently. It wouldn’t be the first time, and I still had a faint scar on my right eyelid to prove it. “I swear.”
“Shannon, relax,” Claire interjected, coming to stand beside me. “No one is going to touch you.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Helen piped up, looking worried. “Bella can be a right bitch when she wants to be.”
“Oh yeah?” Claire shot back, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Well, so can I.”
“Wh-what?” I whispered, feeling like my stomach was about to fall out of my butt. “But I wasn’t… I’m not… I didn’t do anything—”
The sound of the school bell beeping filled my ears, interrupting me, and instead of trying to explain my way out of this messed-up conversation, I grabbed my gear bag and bolted for the door.
“Shannon—wait!” Claire called after me. “Just wait for me!”
I didn’t wait.
Instead, I ran at top speed out of the P.E. hall, pushing past the lads coming out of the boys’ changing room and stumbling down the steps in my attempt to get as far away from potential confrontation as possible.
I couldn’t take this. Not today. I couldn’t take another argument. Not with my parents, or Bella Wilkinson, or anyone else. I just couldn’t do it.
