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But damn, does he fill out a pair of sweats.
A careening volleyball smacks some sense into my head. “Cartwright! Serve!” the coach calls. I blink away the dizziness and punt the ball with a grunt. It sails to the other side. One girl hits it up, and another spikes it over. My feet leave the ground, my war cry echoing as I whale the ball with all my might. I prepare for full annihilation, but instead, I get the wind knocked out of me.
I hit the floor with athud.Darla and her friend stand over me. “Watch it, Barbie.”
When they turn their backs, I peer at Jace again. He’s not watching, but his grin tells me he saw the whole thing. Humiliation creeps up my spine. I’ve been dealing with this bullshit all day, and I’m tired of it.
This time, I don’t suck it up. When the ball hurls toward Darla, I slam her hard with my shoulder and knock her out of the way. She tumbles to the ground. “Oops.” I shrug.
War is coming. I see it etched on her face as her friend pulls her to her feet, but this time, I’m ready. No shook-up sodabehind my back. No whispered insults as I pass. Only fury aimed at me for no apparent reason other than I’m different.
Knees bent and my muscles tense, I poise for attack. She launches into me. A horde swoops around us. A deep baritone cries, “Girl fight!” Blood rushes my ears. I’ve never been in a fight in my life, but my fists instinctively ball as she lurches.
I sink one into her gut, but it only serves to piss her off further. She grabs my hair, nails scratching my scalp as she tears with full handfuls.
The whole thing only lasts a few seconds. The coach drags her to the edge of the gym by the collar. “Go change!” she shouts.
“She started it,” Darla whines.
“I’ll handle her next.”
The minute the coach’s back is turned, Darla floats her middle finger. I’m not sure if it’s meant for the coach or me, but either way, I know I’ve made a bigger problem for myself. She disappears down the steps as the coach’s sneakers squeak across the floor. “Are we gonna have a problem here?”
The New Yorker in me wants to tell her to go fuck herself, but you catch more flies with bullshit. “No, ma’am,” I reply, slathering on a heavy dose of Southern charm.
“Good. It’s your first day here. You better get yourself in check, or it will be your last.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She points at the bleachers. “Take a seat.”
With a curt nod, I do as I’m told. When the class ends, we shuffle back to the locker room like cattle, but there’s no sign of Darla. I let out a heavy sigh. Things that seem like a good idea at the time are, more often than not, regrets we have to live with later. This issue with Darla is far from over, but at least it’s over for today.
That is until I open my locker.
My heart hammers against my ribs. I stare into the empty space, not blinking, not breathing. Panic hitches in my throat. I slam the door and open others praying I’ve made a mistake, but I haven’t.
It’s all gone.
My clothes, my shoes, my bag …
My mother’s ring.
“Missing something?” Darla’s friend—Kirsten or Kristen or Crystal—asks.
I whip around. “Where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“My stuff. I want it back. Now.”
She rolls her eyes with a smirk. “What makes you think I know where it is? I was upstairs with you.” She pulls the elastic from her hair and detangles it with her fingers. “Probably a bad idea leaving it in an unlocked locker. Guess you’ll know better next time.” She flings the door closed and walks off.
The tears I’ve been holding breach my lashes. I run from the cruel laughter echoing in my ears, past the strange faces lurking in the hall. I run, and run, and don’t stop until I’m safe at Jace’s truck. My knees weaken. I crouch near the burning chassis, shielding my face. I didn’t want to cry, but now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. I wipe off the tears, but new ones spring in their place. That ring was all I had left. I don’t give a shit about my shoes or my clothes. Darla can have them. She can have my whole fucking closet for all I care, but that ring is priceless. It can never be replaced, and I let that stupid bitch steal it from me.
“What happened to your fancy clothes?” Jace’s baritone floats across the hood.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Just take me home, okay?”
