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Chapter Eighteen
Phoenix
“So that’s what you do on the weekend,” Taylah mocks as she shoves the picture in my face. “Wondered why we haven’t seen your skanky ass at any of the parties.”
Choosing to ignore her, I make my way down the hallway to my locker. I don’t have it in me today to deal with her crap. I was not expecting to walk into school and find pictures from Friday’s performance on the walls. My mind is already racing, wondering who would have gone through all of this trouble.
I’m not ashamed of what I do in my spare time, but this attack was personal. I wasn’t alone Friday night; the whole studio was there. All our costumes were the same, and it’s not like I was taking my clothes off. If anyone had bothered to look closer, they would have seen that we were at The Royal—the club where all the high school kids hang out. I wasn’t dancing at some skeezy back alley strip joint.
Just as I reach my locker, I feel someone grabbing my hair and yanking me back. That’s it. I am so sick and tired of people here thinking it’s okay to put their hands on people. I grab the hand in my hair, twisting the wrist until it releases me. As I quickly turn, I come face to face with the queen bitch herself.
Grabbing Taylah, I force her back until she’s flying into the lockers. An audible gasp of shock is released as her whole body slams against the locker. Using one of my arms, I lodge it up against her neck so she cannot move.
“KEEP YOUR FILTHY FUCKING HAND OFF ME,” I say through gritted teeth. I can hear the commotion behind me, fully aware that my girls are keeping everyone else at bay. “You don’t want to mess with me, Taylah. You have no idea how fucked up I am. I don’t have time for your petty bullshit. I don’t care what you have to say or what you think I do. But lay another finger on me bitch, and Quasimodo will be considered hotter than you.” I slam her back into the locker one more time before letting her go and stepping back.
Watching her cough, I walk back to my locker, grabbing my stuff for class. I throw a final look at her before zeroing in on the real culprit for this shit show. Holding Logan’s stare, I bark out my final warning. “Let this be a reminder to you that you don’t want to mess with me. I don’t need a guy to stand up for me to make my point known. I am quite capable of doing it myself.”
The day went to hell in a handbasket after that. The girls didn’t care if the pictures weren’t as it seemed—they labeled me guilty. If they weren’t openly hostile to me in and out of class, they were actively freezing me out.
The guys were worse, and the jeers and innuendos came thick and fast. I was thankful my group never left my side. By lunchtime, we managed to collect most of the pictures. I know who’s behind them; I’m not stupid, it’s obvious.
The plus side was his little bimbo and her crew have given me a wide berth since this morning’s altercation. That left me happy, but the first thing I was doing this afternoon was contacting the Martial Arts studio to organize some classes. I had a feeling I would need it.
“How are you feeling, Phe?” Jonah asked, his voice thick with concern as he dropped down beside me and pulled me into his side.
“Ahhhh, I don’t know, J.” I try to reassure him. I don’t want my drama to become his. He’s been a great support so far, and I don’t want to lose our friendships already. “I don’t understand why he would do this. He took something innocent and fun and destroyed it. He turned it into something that it wasn’t. You know, I’ve been propositioned four times since this morning, not to mention, half the girls think I am some sort of Jezebel.”
Luca throws her arm around me, giving me a side hug. “Phe, I wouldn’t worry too much. After that little showdown this morning, I’m not sure too many will be willing to mess with you right now,” she laughs. “Plus, I don’t think they actually know who’s in that picture with you. I mean, I wouldn’t want to be Logan when D finds out that he tried to make you out to be a stripper at school. That Boo looks at you like a little sister, hun.”
“She’s right, chicka. I bet he is pissed that he doesn’t know who it is,” Nate adds, nodding his head at the table where the enemies sit. “Look at them. They are studying that picture hard to figure it out. They’ve been looking up over here every few minutes then back down at that picture. I can tell you now, when D finds out, he’s gonna go all Hulk on his ass.”
He was right. As I sat back and studied them, the boys were crowded around each other, kinda in a little huddle, and every so often, they would look up and over at our table. They looked to be deep in conversation. Logan looks frustrated—as if he were handed a puzzle and had no idea how to put the pieces together. Turning back to the group, I study my friends. All of them had varying looks of concern on their faces, and I hated that it was me putting those looks there.
“I’ll be okay guys; I can handle this. Besides, what’s the worst they can do?” I smile at them as I continue. “I’m a warrior, remember? I’ve seen the devil and come back stronger; they won’t break me, trust me. Plus, we have other things to think about, like the competition in three weeks.”
The crew all nodded in response, and we quickly descended into talking about what music, costumes, and moves we wanted to include in our routine. It was good to see I was able to deflect their attention to something else, but I need to get this situation under control pretty quickly if I want to keep them from the drama unfolding.
Following the events from Monday, I enrolled in the self-defense classes. I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were only just starting to happen, nor could I shake the feeling that I was being watched. It didn’t matter where I turned, I had this undeniable feeling that there was always someone in my shadows.
The last time I felt like this was just after the whole incident happened years ago, and it had taken a lot of therapy for me to feel as though I was safe and okay again. I didn’t need to start taking steps backward now.
As Friday rolled around again, so did our next performance at The Royal. The girls and I are dancing around my room to some old school Limp Bizkit as we fix our hair and make-up for the show. We were already dressed, this time in matching black jeggings and lilac handkerchief shirts. We all wear the same two braids with blue and pink woven in it, and our make-up will be smoky greys and blacks.
Tonight is going to be epic. Walking into my closet, I grab a bag to pack for the night, planning to stay at Cami’s afterward. As I’m packing some clothes, I see the edge of one of my dairies peeking out from under the box that held the police reports from that night. I’m not sure why, but something told me I needed to hide them.
Grabbing what I could, I stuffed them inside my suitcase and locked it before heading out to join the girls and to see if they were ready.
