“It doesn’t matter. Now everyone thinks you—”
I glared at her. “Not helping, Flick.”
“Sorry, I just... shit, Hails, what are you going to do?”
“Nothing. I’m going to do nothing.” If I didn’t stoke the fire, the flames would die out.
“When Jason finds out—”
“He’ll what? Drive across river and defend my honor? Please.” It came out bitter. “He won’t care about this crap. We should get back in there.” I flicked my head to the doors.
“Seriously? I thought we’d at least skip the rest of classes.”
“It’s one photo. I’m not going to hide because of one photo.” Even if I did look like an advert for a cheap porn movie.
“Okay, if you say so.” Flick trailed behind me as we re-entered the building. “What class do you have now?” she asked.
“Math.”
“Asher’s in that class with you, right?”
I frowned unsure where she was going with this. “When he can be bothered to show up, yeah. Why?”
She gave me a sympathetic look, and said, “Because something tells me this will only get worse before it gets any better.”
Flick wasn’t wrong. In math I received four hate-notes, had numerous paper balls thrown at me, and some of Khloe Stemson’s friends spent the entire class kicking the back of my chair.
As I expected, Asher didn’t show, but I’d spotted the team through the window, running drills on the athletic field.
“How was it?” Flick grabbed my arm as soon as I filed out of the room, keeping me close to her as we fought the crush.
“Is math ever fun?” I gave her my best smile, and she returned it with a pointed look.
“Okay,” I conceded. “It was bad. By game night I fully expect to be forced to wear the foam Eagle costume and be thrown onto the field to receive a public beating from Vinnie the Viking.”
Flick smothered a chuckle. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny, but that conjures up all kinds of crazy visuals.”
“Gee, thanks.” I pressed my lips together, rolling my eyes, as we made our way down the hall. If I concentrated really hard, I could almost block out the insults.
Almost.
“Do you know what really pisses me off?” I said as we reached our locker bank. “When Cameron humiliated me, no one stood up for me. But now they all think I’ve been cavorting with the enemy and everyone is on a personal mission to defend them. It’s pathetic.”
“It’s football,” my best friend shot back.
I traded some books and closed my locker. It was history next, the only class I shared with Cameron… if he showed.
“Okay,” I announced as we stopped outside my next class. “Wish me luck.”
Flick rested her hands on my shoulder. “You got this. And if anyone gives you shit, just remind them that you ride Raiders and suck Eagles dick. Hell, girl, that’s jersey chaser goals right there.” She winked before spinning me around and shoving me into the room.
All eyes fell on me as I walked to the back of class. I liked to think I had excellent patience when it came to my fickle classmates, but after an hour of being kicked in the back last period, a seat on the last row seemed like the safest bet.
“Eagles whore,” someone whisper-hissed as I passed them. But I didn’t bite. I didn’t hang my head or lower my eyes.
I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
But my silence only fueled them, and the hushed insults began to ripple around the room like a rising wave, until the teacher, Mr. Henson finally intervened.