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“You don’t sit here anymore,” Duke says, gesturing lazily to a table near Colt’s, where a pair of ambitious sophomores sit, having taken physics early. “Your chair is over there.”
“Yeah,” Rylan says. “This is a lab. You might get cut or something, and no one wants to risk getting diseases.”
I clench my teeth and glare at him with all the hatred I feel. “Fine,” I grit out, my tone icy, because of all the assholes to talk down to me, I never expected it from the boy who didn’t even want popularity a couple days ago.
Holding my head high, I turn away from the table, hoping no one can see how hard I’m working just to swallow past the tight ache in my throat. I tell myself not to panic, focusing on my mantras.
Keep smiling. Keep dancing. Never let them see you cry.
“You can sit with us,” Harper says. “Pull up a chair.”
“Uh, no,” Dixie protests loudly. “We don’t want diseases, either.”
A few people snicker.
“Ms. Walton,” the teacher says, sounding exhausted. “Take your seat. You know the rule. Four to a table.”
“That’s bullshit,” Harper bursts out, pointing to the elites. “There’s five at that tableright there.”
“It’s okay,” I say quickly, not wanting to make a bigger scene than I’ve already caused. “I’m fine here.” I slide in with the sophomores, who looked like a couple deer in the headlights. “Don’t worry, I’ll work alone.”
“Don’t tell her to sit with us,” Dixie hisses loud enough for the whole class to hear. “She’s toxic! People will think we’re diseased too. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I wouldn’t be a heartless bitch,” Harper says.
I want to fucking explode with relief that she’s taken the attention off me while I collect myself as much as a girl with a wet shirt can do after being rejected in front of the entire class.
“I’m not,” Dixie says, her eyes widening and her lower lip trembling just a bit. “I just don’t want us to be ostracized too. Colt already has it hard enough. He’s finally not the lowest rung on the ladder. If you’re really his friend, you should be happy about that.”
Harper turns to Colt. “You know I’ve got your back, right?”
“Yeah, Teeny,” he says, casting the barest glance my way. “But leave me out of this. I’m not trying to get my ass kicked by either of y’all. If you want to have a catfight over me, though, that might be kinda hot.”
He flashes her a grin, and she rolls her eyes and opens her laptop without a word.
God, I could kiss her for saving me that way. I don’t deserve it, after all I did to her. But somehow, I ended up with her friendship anyway, and I’m going to make damn sure I’m worthy enough of keeping it.
“Did you see my new blog?” Dixie asks a few minutes later, after we’ve settled in and started working. My heart sinks. She’s not done destroying me yet.
“I don’t read the blog,” Harper says, sounding annoyed.
I know I won’t be that strong. I’ll dread it all day, but eventually I’ll cave. I have to know what she said about me, what horrible things I’ll be accused of next.
“There’s so much shit coming out about her now,” Dixie says, sounding so smug I want to rip her stupid curls off her head. “It’s like, everyone bottled it up for two years because they were afraid to speak out, but now it’s all coming to light.”
“Are we really still judging girls for their body count in this day and age?” Harper asks.
“I’m not slut-shaming her,” Dixie protests, widening her eyes like she’s nothing but purity and innocence. “I’m just providing information. There’s a lot of stuff you don’t know about her. She’s not who you think she is.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Harper says, giving her a dark look.
“Look, it’s my job to include anything of interest that people come forward to tell me. They want the school to know what they’ve had to deal with under her reign. They deserve to have their stories told too. Not just the Queen Bitch.”
This must be karma, I think dully. I was a bully and a bitch, and even if I left the truly vile acts to the D-boys themselves, I never tried to stop them. I knew if I did, I’d become a target—just as I have. I thought they’d be the ones to ruin me when it happened.
But no, it’s Dixie.
Of course. The Dolces have already done all a boy can do to a girl. Now they’ve let their girls loose on me, to do what girls do when they want to destroy one of their own. It doesn’t matter that I helped Dixie get where she is. It doesn’t matter that I hand fed her coveted information for the blog for over two years. Without my inside scoop on the in-crowd, the blog and Dixie’s gossip account on the Tea app would be a fraction of what they are today. Because let’s face it, no one wants to read about the nobodies, and the sports and academics and arts features run in the school-sanctioned newspaper that lands in our inboxes every Friday.
