“Oh …” I whistle. “Have a girlfriend?”
“No.” He laughs. “She’s just a girl and a friend.”
Now who’s lying? “Sure, she is.” I roll onto my back and stare up at my ceiling. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too, Hen. But I promise I’ll come home and see you soon, okay?”
“Okay,” I say, planning on holding him to that.
“Love you.” He hangs up before I can even say it back to him.
HENLEY
I haven’t spoken to Jamie since I used Datson. She’s ignoring me, and a part of me knew that’s how it would go. I’m beginning to think she never believed me. That maybe she just told me all that shit to make me feel better at the time. Who the fuck knows? I no longer care. I’m over it. I didn’t come back to be her friend. Or for her support.
The week has gone by slow as shit. I keep to myself but refuse to look at my feet when I walk. The girls point at me and laugh. The Reapers just give me death glares. Thankfully, there haven’t been any condoms or lube in my locker. The boys who I once considered my friends are smarter than that. More calculated. They have a plan, and it doesn’t include such juvenile things. I’m on high alert all the time, though, because I sure as fuck don’t trust them. I’m a threat to them. Damn right, I fucking am!
It’s officially Friday, and the hallways and classrooms are covered in metallic blue, black, and white banners to show team spirit for the Westbrook Warriors football game tonight. They have a home game that I refuse to attend. Apparently, they’re 4-0 this season. Big surprise there.
Not.
I’m bent down, placing my books in my locker, when I hear “Triggered” by Chase Atlantic being played. I look over my shoulder to see Monroe coming down the hall with his cell in his hand. He has the song playing on it at full blast. Everyone quiets and watches him walk by. He has his Gucci shades over his eyes, but I feel them on me, burning a hole in my skin. This is my warning.
The song.
The words.
My refusal to go to the game tonight.
It’s him telling me in front of the school that they’re all going to come after me.
I stand to my full height, which I hate is only five-foot-five, and slam my locker shut. Turning to face him, I watch him walk past me, fisting my hands. Anger fills every inch of me, and hatred boils to the surface. “Monroe?” I call out.
He comes to a stop and slowly turns to face me. The corners of his lips turn up, and my heart pounds in my chest.
“Yeah, little doll?” He calls me by the new nickname that only Scout used to call me. It just infuriates me more.
“Go fuck yourself.” My words are just as shaky as my fists are.
Audible gasps fill the hallway. I hate everyone else as much as them. They act as if I should bow to these motherfuckers and lick their shoes.
My words grant me a full-blown smile, showing off his impeccable white teeth. His tongue darts out to run across his lips seductively. He moves, walking back toward me, and my shoulders stiffen, but I don’t step back. Not here. Not in front of these kids. I refuse to look scared of this monster.
He comes to a stop as the song ends. Locking his screen, he slips his phone in the front pocket of his jeans. He reaches up and takes a piece of my hair and starts to twirl it around his finger. I’m panting at his closeness, but I must remind myself that he won’t touch me here. He won’t hurt me in the open. No. He’ll do it like he did Brenda—when I’m alone and vulnerable. And when he makes his move, I’ll be ready.
“I’d rather fuck you, doll,” he says loudly for all to hear, making the students laugh. My teeth clench. “And I always get what I want.”
“Even if you have to force it,” I state.
The hallway goes silent.
The smile drops off his face, and his body goes rigid. “I don’t have to force myself on anyone.” He steps close to me, pressing his body into mine. He grips my hair in his hand and yanks my head back. Lowering his lips to my ear, he whispers for only me to hear, “They’re all fucking sluts. Just like you are. Remember how easily you spread your legs for me? How you begged me to fuck you?” Pulling his head back, he smirks down at me while I pant. I’m so furious with him. “You were so fucking desperate for someone to want you.” He makes a tsking sound with his tongue.
“Monroe?”
He lets go of me and takes a step back as Law calls out his name. Monroe looks to his left, and I follow his line of sight to see him coming toward us with Scout and Rellik on either side of him. They’re drilling holes into me, each dressed in their football jersey, jeans, and letterman jacket. I used to wear Scout’s all the time. I’d leave notes in his pockets for him.