DRAMA NOVEL ONLINE The Golden Boys: Chapter 9
Two uneventful hours come and go. They lull me into a false sense of security, and then BAM! Sixth hour rolls around, my guard is down, now here I sit at the center of the gold and black logo on the gym bleachers, pretending they aren’t sitting two rows behind me.
All of them—West, Sterling, and Dane. Along with Parker and her girls, who Lexi pointed out during lunch. Speaking of, she’s missing in action, which means I’m on my own.
Glancing down at myself, I can’t help but wish I’d chosen cuter gym clothes. But since I remembered to grab them at the last minute, I took what I could find—a faded pink tee and black basketball shorts I thought were the ones from last season. However, turns out I took the pair from freshman year that should’ve gotten tossed out eons ago. I’d grown four or five inches since then and filled out a bit. So, yeah, they’re ridiculously tight and weird-fitting.
Fun.
A sudden outburst of high-pitched giggling from behind may have nothing to do with me, but I’m willing to bet money it does. One of those douchebags probably took a shot at me. The thought of them sitting there, getting off on making fun of me raises my temp.
Doesn’t help that I can still feel West pressed against me, locking me against the glass. He likes that position, asserting power over me. I, on the other hand, hate it. To the core.
Anxiously tapping my foot, my gaze shifts to the clock mounted above the double doors, praying Lexi comes through them at any second, but we’re already six minutes into class. I can’t help but wonder if her absence has something to do with Pandora’s latest reveal. With mention of our siblings both being incarcerated, I suppose I now know what West meant about it ‘making sense’ that she and I would link up. It was bad enough I’d been outed for my family drama, but it seemed Lexi was now a target, too.
All because she dared to hold one conversation with me.
If she’s smart, she’ll take this as a sign and never speak to me again, for fear of getting dragged into the muck. However, the selfish side of me hopes she’ll stick around despite the risk.
Even if I’m not so sure I would do the same.
A woman has been sitting at a desk behind a floor-to-ceiling window since we walked in, but she’s standing now. A few seconds later, there’s an energetic spring in her steps when she pushes through the door separating her office from the actual gym. She crosses the court, grinning at all twenty-something of us like there’s no place she’d rather be than right here, looking after a bunch of hormonal teens for the hour.
“Afternoon, kiddos! I’m Mrs. C, your drill sergeant for this quarter,” she teases. “Looks like you’ve made it to the end of the day in one piece. Hopefully, everyone had a refreshing summer and you’re ready to hit the ground running. Literally,” she adds with a laugh. “For the rest of the week, we’ll be up on the track.”
I follow her finger when she points above, to the second-floor track that overlooks the court.
“Then, Monday, we’ll get started on our first unit. Swimming,” she adds cheerfully, pushing her cropped hair behind both ears.
A number of gripes and groans hit the air, likely because my classmates are dreading having to mess up their hair and makeup every day, but my dread stems from something else.
Like, the fact that I can’t freakin’ swim.
More than a decade ago, on an impromptu trip after he and Mom got into a bad fight, my dad whisked me and Hunter away to a friend’s lake house for the weekend. As usual, he was passed out drunk on the couch by eight P.M., letting the TV watch him. Hunter and me, left to our own devices and very little to do, decided to take the small rowboat tied to the dock out on the water.
At ages six and nine.
Long story short, tipping out of a boat in the dead of night when you can’t even tread water is enough to leave a kid scarred. Thankfully, Hunter managed to pull me out and get me back to the dock, but the damage was done. To this day, I don’t even entertain the idea of getting into water deeper than my waist.
Until now, I guess.
“Head upstairs and get a few laps in. No goal other than to keep running,” Mrs. C. concludes before grabbing a clipboard from the front row.
I stand, unable to help glancing at the door one last time, looking for Lexi.
Guess I’m on my own for real now.
One step into my descent and a bony shoulder slams mine. I peer up to find none other than Parker glaring back as she trudges down the steps. There’s fire in her eyes when I open my mouth to scream at her.
“What the hell?”
“Better watch your step, Little Manson,” she warns in the bitchiest of toxic tones.
I barely have a chance to recover from the first shock when another heavy blow hits my back. This time, it’s more than just a shoulder check. The chick full-on shoves me. So hard I nearly lose my footing and do a nosedive down ten rows of seating.
“Whoops. Clumsy me,” she says with a grin—Ariana, one of Parker’s minions. She had likely acted on Queen Bitch’s command.
At first, my focus is on the two who just assaulted me, but then it shifts to the one who’s really to blame—West.
Surprise, surprise … he’s watching with both brothers, getting yet another laugh at my expense today. He spots me and barely even acknowledges my existence, storming down the bleachers two at a time. I’m seething under the suddenly watchful gaze of Mrs. C., so I keep my cool, staring as their crew heads up to the track together, still laughing at my near-death experience.
I take my time going up, but when I finally reach the second level, I quickly blend into the crowd. Weaving my way through the moving ocean of bodies, I focus on the ones who’ve targeted me for no other reason than because they can. In their eyes I’m weak, which gives them a pass to push me around without consequence.
Only, I refuse to let it go down like that.
I weed out Parker with her prissy little run, and then I pick up speed. They don’t even realize I’ve gained on them, and they won’t until it’s too late.
Timing the maneuver perfectly, I stick my foot forward and hook it over the top of Parker’s. She struggles to steady herself, stumbling awkwardly while I watch the scene unfold. I can’t fight a smile, especially when she finally goes down.
Hard.
A blood-curdling scream rings out into the open space and I back into the crowd. Parker clutches her tiny ankle, and that perfectly tanned face of hers is suddenly red as a beet.
“Step aside,” Mrs. C. calls out, pushing through the tight circle that’s formed on the track. She’s barely even stepped inside it when Parker snitches.
“She did it!” Parker points. “She tripped me on purpose!”
I put on my best ‘Who me?’ face, and even look around as if to imply that she must be talking about someone else.
“Why would I do something like that?” The words leave my mouth sounding so believable, proving that my acting chops are much better than I realized.
“Don’t even try it, bitch,” Parker hisses, beginning to sweat a bit.
I’m guessing the pain is starting to get to her. While Mrs. C’s back is turned, I don’t hide my smirk. I want them to see, want them to know I’m not afraid to strike back. Their whole crew.
My gaze flickers up toward West as he stares me down, both arms locked across his chest like he wishes he could hurt me.
Sorry, dick. Ain’t happening.
“I’m head of the dance squad! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Parker cries out. I mean, legit, cries out.
So dramatic.
“Relax,” Mrs. C. interjects. “We’ll get you down to the nurses office so they can take a look at you. I’m sure it’s not as serious as you think.”
Mrs. C’s gaze shifts to me, but I’ve long-since replaced my snarky expression with one of concern.
“In the meantime, you and I are gonna have a little chat,” she concludes. “In my office. Now.”
The crowd quickly disperses when it’s clear there won’t be much drama to come of this. Well, none they’re aware of, anyway. In fact, they completely miss that West hasn’t moved a muscle since I injured his little girlfriend. It isn’t until Sterling helps Parker to her feet and she loops one arm around his neck and the other around West’s that he even blinks.
It’s impossible to fight the smile on my face now. Told his ass not to mess with me.
“You’re here on scholarship, is that correct?” Mrs. C. rocks back in her seat when asking. I can’t help but wonder what that has to do with anything.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer, knowing I’m expected to be on my best behavior. My stupid temper got me into this, now I need to turn up the charm to get me out of it.
“Well, Ms. Riley, are you aware of the behavioral guidelines associated with your continued enrollment here at Cypress Prep?”
I’m nodding before she even finishes.
“Yes, ma’am,” I repeat. “But I swear to you, I didn’t do anything to Parker. Or, if I did, I assure you it wasn’t on purpose. Maybe I got too close?” I suggest, trying to get at least somewhere in the ballpark of the truth, just in case someone did witness the act and decides to speak up later.
Her stern gaze is locked on me. “I heard about that little prank in the main hall this morning. Did Parker and her friends have anything to do with that? Is that what this is about?”
Yes! They’re all guilty.
I want to scream those words, but know it’ll only give me a motive, which would make pinning this on me that much easier. So, I lie.
“Honestly, I’m not sure who was behind it, but I don’t have any reason to believe Parker was involved.”
Speaking these words makes my chest throb.
She keeps her eyes on me a moment longer, before jotting something down on her clipboard.
“Consider this a warning, Riley,” she states dryly. “If I hear of anything else brewing between you and Parker, I won’t hesitate to take action.”
“Of course. I understand.”
She keeps eyes on me as I rise from my seat and head back out into the gym. The moment I reach the stairs, preparing to make my way back up, the main door opens suddenly. I half expect it to be West and Sterling returning after escorting Parker, but I’m wrong.
Thank God.
“I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.”
Lexi gives an easy smile, and then makes sure Mrs. C. hasn’t noticed her slipping in.
“Just went to the bathroom to make a call first,” she shares. “Pandora’s post has my mother up in arms. So, naturally, I needed to put out that fire before I went home. Or, better yet, so I could decide if I even wanted to go home.”
My heart lurches a bit. “Yeah … about that. I guess I should’ve mentioned I’m patient zero around here. Apparently, even being seen talking to me is social suicide.”
Lexi waved me off before I could even finish. “Don’t worry about it. My rep is shot to hell already. Mom’s just sensitive about my sister’s name being dragged further into the mud,” she explains. “Although, getting her third DUI and hitting a family of four head-on did most of that damage, so…”
I don’t know what to say to that.
“It’s been years, but Pandora doesn’t forget the past. Keep that in mind,” she warns. “She sees to it that none of us can outrun even the slightest mistakes we make.”
I nod, thinking about what she said. “Your mom’s okay, though?”
“She’ll be fine. Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t hanging out with the wrong crowd,” Lexi says with a laugh. “Obviously, she doesn’t know her own kid very well,” she jokes. “I am the wrong crowd.”
I manage to smile despite still feeling bad for having caused a disturbance in her home.
“Don’t sweat it,” she assures me. “It’ll take more than some stupid post to scare me off, New Girl.”
She’s tough, and those are the kinds of friends needed to weather a storm. We might, literally, be from different sides of the track, but it seems we’re still cut from the same cloth. West may have gone out of his way to make me feel like an outsider, but I told him he wouldn’t win.
And I meant it.
@QweenPandora: Ashes, ashes, we all fall DOWN! Too soon PrincessParker? Let’s hope that nasty spill doesn’t mean an early end to your dance season. But don’t cry too hard, Princess. I hear KingMidas made sure you got the help you needed right away. Hopefully, NewGirl doesn’t take it to heart that her boo might still be hot for an old flame. You know what they say, a king with two queens may as well burn down his own palace. Actually, no one said that, but I should totally start putting this stuff on t-shirts.
Later, Peeps.
—P