His family needs to be taken down. And when I do it, it’s going to kill me, too. If they know who did it, I have no doubt they’ll literally kill me. If they never know, and I get something good enough to make Mr. D act and go after them with his money, it’ll still kill me to see Royal fall with them. But even so, I know it has to be done. His family is dangerous to everyone and damaging to this town. No one should have that much power. No one should be immune to all consequence.
In the meantime, though, I will let myself have this. It’s big and scary and consuming, and I already know it’s going to hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt. But I also know that it’ll be worth it. Royal’s worth it. To have him for a day, a week, or a few months will be worth it. If I don’t let myself experience this, I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. That I’ll never feel exactly how I feel now about another guy. There is no other Royal Dolce.
So, I don’t take off the jersey and cause a scene with the Dolces just to prove they can’t control me. They can. They’d just put it back on me by force, anyway. I wear it, and I feel weirdly exposed, maybe even more so than after the video was released. Now, no one is whistling and commenting. I could deal with the lewd remarks. But when they watch me in a sort of silent reverence, it makes me ten times more self-conscious. Before, I could put up my defenses and hide behind a wall of not giving a fuck. Now, there’s nothing to defend myself from.
After first period, Duke throws his arm around me as I leave the classroom and walks with me to second. Girls smile shyly and step aside for us. I think they’re just admiring Duke, or maybe they assume we’re a couple. But in the next class, Baron calls me over to their table. Three boys and three girls already sit there, but he pulls up a chair and places it at the end of the rectangular table. Of course, the teacher doesn’t protest.
“Let me do your cheeks,” Everleigh says, pulling out some face paint and a tiny brush. She sits there painting my cheeks in the middle of class. No one says a word. When she’s done, she gives me a little compact mirror from her purse. I figure she’s drawn a penis on my face, but no, it’s actually Royal’s number in black and gold. On my other cheek, she’s drawn a Knight’s helmet.
She hands me some red lipstick and black mascara, and I put it on. I look… Weird. Like one of them. Looking at me, you can’t even tell I’m poor white trash anymore.
“Hot,” DeShaun Rose says, giving me a thumbs up and a wink.
“Wish I’d noticed you first,” Dawson Walton says.
“Ignore them,” Everleigh says, like we’re in on something. “And remind me to get you a necklace. We all wear one.”
All three of the girls put their hands to the little D charm on the chain around their necks at once.
“I think I’m okay on that,” I say, not sure I can deal with anything more surreal. “Thanks.”
“Well, Duke will give you a more… Permanent mark, anyway,” Everleigh says. She and another girl giggle. I don’t even know the names of her friends, the Dolce girls, who are now supposed to be my friends. I don’t know the first thing about them, or if I even like them, and they’ve been nothing but scathing to me. They’ve criticized my clothes, my shoes, the way I talk, and my sexuality. Now, suddenly, because I’ve had the right dick in me, we’re friends.
I feel like Alice looking for the right sized door out of this bizarro funhouse world.
Baron and DeShaun walk me to my next class. I know they’re trying to be protective or some shit, but I feel like I have a police escort. Before lunch, I drop my stuff in my locker and find myself craving a piece of normalcy. All I want is to escape to the bleachers, away from prying eyes, and smoke a blunt with Colt. But Colt isn’t here. Colt doesn’t get normalcy. He’s in a hospital somewhere waiting for a surgery, or maybe at home with his head in a cast that makes him look like a mummy. My heart aches for him, and I can’t seem to shake the sadness or the ghost of him that haunts me as I head to lunch.
When I get to the cafeteria, Royal and Gloria are standing in the tiny side hallway that leads to the exterior door, as if they knew I’d be tempted to escape today. I wonder if Royal ever feels this way, if he wants to escape the prying eyes, and if he ever succeeds. He once said people want to stare at him like an animal in the zoo, so he just accepts it. How long did it take him to get to that point?
“There you are,” Gloria says, waving and smiling so big her nose crinkles in the cutest way. Her blonde ponytail bobs as she skips over to me and grabs my hand, dragging me back to Royal. “Okay, we’re walking in together so everyone knows we’re cool. Ready?”
I cock a brow at Royal. “You waited for me? That’s so sweet. Next thing I know, you’ll be carrying my books and walking me to class. And here I thought you didn’t want a girlfriend.”
“Shut up and listen,” he says, glowering at me. “When everyone’s watching, you can’t just do whatever the fuck you want.”
“You mean like you?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t. I do what needs to be done. And you will, too. Got it?”
“Do I really have a choice?”
“Never.”
“Okay, then,” I say. “I figured that was the case. That’s why I’m wearing your jersey. Not because I want to be your girlfriend, but because I know you’ll just hold me down and strip me and force me into it if I don’t.”
He cracks a smile at Gloria and points down at the top of my head. “Slow learner,” he says, like I can’t hear him. “But she’s finally catching on.”
“You should try being less predictable,” I say. “It would be harder to pick my battles if I thought I’d actually win some of them.”
“Want to hold hands?” Gloria asks, reaching for me with one hand and running the other down her long, sleek blonde ponytail.
I pull back with a grimace. “Not really a hand holder,” I say. “Unless you mean we’re a couple, in which case you’re totally my type, and I’d date the fuck out of you.”
“No hand holding,” Royal snaps, stepping between us. “And you two are not allowed to date.”
“I think someone’s threatened by the thought that he won’t be the center of attention,” I say, giving Gloria a sly grin as we start into the café.
“Not into girls, sorry,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “I mean, I’m all for smashing the patriarchy, but the idea of eating pussy just makes me gag.”