Brynn felt heat rising to her face as she looked around in embarrassment. “Jeez, say it a little louder.”
“Well, I think I found it,” Angela said, wrapping a hand around Brynn’s wrist and dragging her toward the door.
Brynn’s heart began to thud nervously.
Not again. It couldn’t be happening again. Not when she’d come so far.
Moments like this were exactly why she’d refused to let her parents send her to St. Thomas Preparatory after eighth grade with the rest of her classmates. She needed a fresh start at the public school. Needed to find a place where she wasn’t Dumpy Dalton.
Where people didn’t stuff her book bag with candy bars, or make fun of her buckteeth whenever she had to give a presentation.
So far, freshman year at Truman High had been the best year of her life. She’d lost the weight…had even made the cheer squad. The acne medication had cleared up the worst of the pimples, and while the braces weren’t exactly stylish, they’d already made a huge improvement on the huge front teeth she’d had her whole life.
But this? This felt a little bit like déjà vu.
Her pulse went into overdrive as Angela led her in the direction of the courtyard. Hardly a place where one’s bra should be. Ever.
It took Brynn several seconds to register what she was seeing. A tiny scrap of white lace was very distinctly flapping in the breeze several inches below the American flag.
Through the roaring in her ears, she dimly became aware of the crowds of students standing around and pointing. Laughing.
Eight years’ worth of painful schoolyard memories came rushing back over her.
“Nobody knows it’s yours,” Angela said softly. “Just you and me.”
Brynn’s eyes remained locked on the small bra. Small to fit her small size. When she’d lost weight, her boobs had been the first to shrink. “No, Ang, we’re not the only ones. It’s you, me, and the jackass who did it.”
Angela’s eyes flew open. “Do you know who it was?”
Brynn’s eyes scanned the courtyard until they found what she was looking for. Whom she was looking for.
His blue eyes locked with hers, much as they had a couple months earlier on the football field.
But this time, her stomach didn’t flip in excitement. It turned in hatred. Three months ago, she’d thought Will Thatcher’s interest in her had been, well…interest.
Turned out it was disdain. And disdain had turned into antagonism.
You started it, she reminded herself. The first time he’d tried to talk to her, she’d been so nervous that she’d gone into what her little sister called Ice Princess mode.
He’d been taking small hits at her ever since. Catcalling her when she walked by, telling the boy who had asked her to the homecoming dance that she was a prude…
He’d even accidentally-on-purpose ran into her, knocking her notebooks all over the ground, only to taunt her as he’d helped her pick them up.
But this? This was a new level of mean.
Brynn’s eyes narrowed at the smirk on his face.
She’d spent her entire life dealing with bullies. She could take on this one.
It was war.
And she was more than happy to engage.
* * *
Brynn took the last cookie out of the bakery bag and set it on her second-favorite white platter. She’d long ago stopped fretting about the lack of the homemade factor.
Did she wish that she’d mastered baking? Sure.