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“I’ll talk about whoever the fuck I want, cupcake,” she crooned, her lips curling. “And I’ll do whatever I want to rich bitches that walk in here thinking their shit don’t stink just because they come from money. You might have had a little mansion on the hill, but you’re on the wrong side of the tracks now, princess, and we’re not the only ones with a bone to pick with you.”
She leaned in, getting close to my ear, the scent of her hairspray invading my nostrils.
“Just wait till the Lost Boys get their hands on you. Bish is gonna have a fuckin’ field day with you. A daddy in jail won’t be the worst thing to happen to you, cupcake, and your fancy car and your fancy clothes won’t protect you from what’s coming. Folks around here might not be able to get their hands on your pops, might not be able to take it out on him—but you’ll do.”
She and her friends tossed me away, throwing me to the floor before they turned and headed for the door, laughing loudly. No one else in the locker room had batted an eyelash the entire time. It was as if the scene hadn’t even happened.
I sat on the floor, trying to breathe as steadily as I could manage. I pulled myself up once the locker room started to empty out, quietly and shakily changing out of my gym clothes and into my regular clothes.
The good thing was, it wasn’t like I needed to be on time for lunch. Unlike the rest of my class periods, no one would care if I was late for that.
I took my time, waiting until the sick feeling from the adrenaline in my system wore off a little before stepping into the cafeteria. There were already a considerable number of tables taken, which was fine by me; I didn’t want to sit around with these people any longer than I already had today. I just wanted to get my food and find somewhere quiet and deserted.
Lunch itself was as alien as the rest of the school. Nothing like the fresh salad bar or gourmet selections that’d been on offer every day at Highland Park Prep. There, I could’ve had shrimp scampi on Monday, a flat bread tomato mozzarella panini on Tuesday, and authentic French cuisine for the rest of the week.
The aroma that assaulted me as I stood in line wasn’t that of succulent spices and fresh cooking meats, but of salt and grease and something slightly burnt. It turned my stomach even more than the encounter with the redhead in the locker room had. Disgust and anxiety compounded on top of each other as I came to the head of the line.
“Um, is there something else that I could order? Maybe a—”
“What you see is what you get, sunshine.” The lunch lady, with her hair pulled back in a dingy white cap and her eyes trained listlessly on the screen in front of her, didn’t even bother to look up at me when she spoke. Someone behind me laughed.
“Don’t mind her, Miss Patricia. She thinks she’s fuckin’ special. Thinks maybe you got a special menu for royalty.”
The twisting in my stomach got so bad I was afraid I might actually throw up. Grabbing the tray she handed me, I didn’t even look at the food on it as I turned and hurried away, brushing past the boy who’d spoken without meeting his gaze.
At each table I passed, I was met with confrontational stares—glares, really.
I wondered if what the redhead had said was true. How many of these people were children of those who’d been put out of their businesses? Their homes? Or maybe that was all just a made-up excuse for why she’d attacked me. Maybe she was just using it to scare me, just like she’d tried to scare me with those boys she’d mentioned—the Lost Boys.
But they couldn’t be that bad, could they? How could they hate me more than everyone else here did?
Since the lunchroom was off limits—my own decision, I decided to say, pretending that it had less to do with the people giving me disgusted looks and more to do with my personal desire to be left alone—I went outside. There weren’t any formal sitting areas outside, but it didn’t matter, since it wasn’t like teachers were watching to stop anyone from slipping out either.
I found a spot near the outside wall of the cafeteria, away from the doors so I wouldn’t be seen, but not too far away. Despite how horrible the day was turning out to be, despite my impulse to be alone, I didn’t want to stray too far from the crowded lunchroom. Who knew when the redhead girl from earlier would decide she wanted to come at me for a second round.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I glanced down at my tray. My stomach pitched again. Out here, I didn’t have to worry about stares or snickers or people throwing harsh words my way. Instead, I had another problem to contend with.
The food.
I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be eating. One pile of mush, another pile of slightly more palatable-looking mush, a carton of milk that I’d only just realized was already opened, or the fruit cup? The fruit cup was the one thing I thought I could stomach, until it occurred to me that I hadn’t gotten a spoon.
My stomach rumbled; the breakfast I’d had this morning clearly wasn’t going to last me all day, but I wasn’t nearly desperate enough to eat this—especially not with my hands. And going back into the lunchroom to look for a spoon was out of the question.
I sighed and glanced around, spotting a trash can near the corner of the building. A few flies buzzed around it, as if they were just waiting for the chance to attack my ill-fated lunch. I’d have to remember to pack something to eat tomorrow.
As I dumped my food, tray and all, I heard a laugh. The sound sent a shiver up my spine—it was deep and velvety, but there was a hard edge to it too.
“What’s the matter? Food not good enough for you, princess?”
I looked up, instantly on edge. I hadn’t noticed there was someone around the corner. Three someones, to be specific—and I recognized all of them. They were the boys from my block, the ones who’d stared at me on my first day in the new house.
They leaned against the wall, looking every bit as dangerous and darkly beautiful as they had the first day I’d seen them. The shaggy haired one stood in the middle, his arms folded over his chest. The blond and the dark-haired one flanked him. I was instantly reminded of the girls in the locker room, the way they’d stood in the same formation before they’d attacked me.
I’d barely stood a chance against three vicious girls, and these three boys were all tall and muscled, each well over six feet. I was a petite 5’4”, and even standing several feet away from them, I had to crane my neck a little to meet their gazes.
The boy with messy brown hair had asked me a question, but it felt like a bad idea to answer. I was positive there was no right answer anyway.
I took two steps backward, then turned on my heel and started toward the side door I’d come out of. Maybe I’d take my chances in the cafeteria after all.
