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Mrs. Kingsley and I follow her movements as she glues herself as close to the opposite side of the hallway while passing. “Is she for real?” I scoff. “Now, not only have I died, I’ve been resurrected.”
“Careful,” she warms me with an amused grin. “There will be a witch hunt now. They’ll come after you with pitchforks and torches.”
“I can only imagine,” I groan.
She finishes helping me clear away my locker and promises she’ll arrange for someone to come and remove the spray paint today. She walks away, hauling the filled trash bag over her shoulder when yet another person I’ve never met before in my life comes running up to me, an absolute sobbing mess.
“Just great,” I groan to myself. I mean, where the hell is Brooke and the girls? I need a group of people to hide in and right when I need them, they’re not here. Damn them. I’m removing them from best friend status for today. They can go on my shit list for a few hours. I’m sure that will teach them a lesson or two.
I shoo the girl away and only end up groaning again when Jackson falls against the side of my locker. “Well, you don’t look dead,” he says with his signature smirk.
“What do you want, Jackson?” I say, refusing to look at him as I make myself busy in my locker.
“I’m just checking you’re ok,” he says. “I saw the fire from the party.”
I let out a huff and turn to look at him. “Really?” I say, narrowing my eyes on him. “Lose any jackets lately?”
His face scrunches up in confusion. “What?” he grunts.
I watch him for a moment later before deciding he actually has no idea what I’m talking about. “Nothing,” I say, letting it go. “I’m fine.”
“Good,” he says moving in a little closer. “I was worried about you.”
“Are you kidding me, right now?” I snap. “Do you have bipolar or something? One minute you’re using me in your twisted games to get at Nate, and now you suddenly care if I got hurt or not?”
He looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “I’ve told you this a million times; I’m not the asshole you keep assuming me to be, and yes, I have a problem with your boyfriend and it’s not going to change me wanting to kick his ass, but doesn’t mean I have a problem with you too. I think you’re a cool chick, Tora. I didn’t like hearing that you got hurt. You didn’t deserve that.”
I try to work out his game plan but nothing is coming to mind, you know, apart from the obvious trying to butter me up for something. The question is what. “Um… thanks,” I say.
He nods his head as his eyes quickly travel up and down my body. “Yeah,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets and stalking away.
What on earth was that?
I watch after him as he disappears up the hallway but someone bragging about her new daddy steals my attention. I fall back against my locker and turn my whole body her way, making it clear as day that I’m listening in on her conversation.
“It’s so great,” Phoenix boasts. “He came in late last night and brought ice cream and chocolate for me and mom and we watched a movie together. I’ve been waiting so long for this and I’ve finally got it.”
“I’m so happy for you,” one of her bimbo friends says. “This has been yours all along. Screw Nate and Jesse. Oh, wait… you already did.”
“I never screwed Nate,” she defends. “But I would have.”
“Ugh,” her friend laughs. “You’re so wrong.”
“I know, but it’s so good.”
I roll my eyes at how pathetic she is. I mean, why the hell is it so important to her to have taken the boys’ father away? It’s not like she’s gaining anything good out of it, just a douchebag father.
Phoenix turns and starts going through her locker as Brooke falls in beside me. “What’s going on?” Brooke asks, noticing that my attention is somewhere else.
“Shhhhhh,” I say. “Phoenix is bragging about daddy dearest.”
“Ahhhhhhhh,” she grins in understanding before dropping into my locker beside me. “Anything good?”
“Not really,” I tell her. “She thinks the sun shines out of his ass though.”
“Ha,” she scoffs. “Well, hopefully, she’ll learn the hard way.”
“Fingers crossed.”
I nudge Brooke when Phoenix turns back to her friends and we listen in a little closer as the hallway has grown busy with bodies. “Daddy said we can buy me a new car this weekend,” she gushes. “I was thinking a Jeep Wrangler.”
“Are you serious?” her friend shrieks as a few other cheerleaders join them and start shrieking as well.
“I don’t get it,” Brooke grunts. “She already has a car.”
I start shaking my head. I’m not about to pretend I understand the inner workings of a cheerleader. I mean, Brooke’s right. Phoenix’s mom bought her a shiny red BMW for her birthday last year. She couldn’t possibly need another one.
