“I don’t either,” I point out, but I remember what Maddox said, that they sleep with all the Crow girls. “I’m not even in the crew.”
“Is that why you don’t sit with them at lunch?” Diana asks, peeling off her baby tee and tugging a new uniform shirt over her head. I had to get one of the loaner ones from the school, since I don’t have money like these girls.
Now that she mentions the lunch situation, I think of the little group of gangsters from my neighborhood who sit together every day, about a dozen guys and three or four girls, including Mariana. But they didn’t invite me to share their table, and Lexi doesn’t sit with them, so I don’t either. I guess she isn’t a Crow, though Billy is. She’s like me and everyone in the neighborhood who they protect even though we aren’t crew—peripheral to the gang, but not members.
“That’s even worse,” Scarlet says, giving me a disgusted look as she parades around in her bra and panties, looking like a porn star. “So you just spread your legs for all of them, and you’re not even a member?”
“I don’t spread my legs for anyone,” I snap, tossing my jeans into my locker and pulling on the dingy grey PE shorts. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Does that mean they just pass you around instead of running a train on you?” Keisha asks, pulling her ponytail out the back of her t-shirt. “I mean, everyone knows that’s how you get in the Skull and Crossbones crews.”
I gulp, trying not to let her words get to me. Trying not to remember that Maddox said basically the same thing when he was trying to intimidate me. “That’s not true,” I say, squaring my shoulders.
The girls snicker and give me pitying looks that make me feel even more lame in my second-hand gym uniform.
“Okay,” Scarlet says, barely holding back laughter. “I’m sure you know better than I do.”
She tosses her pretty blonde hair back and struts away to get her clean new uniform. The school gets slightly new designs each year, which means that everyone knows if you’re too poor for a new one and have to wear one of the old ones the school saves for poor kids. I turn to my locker and quickly duck into my used Wampus Cats shirt, my thoughts racing.
Do Maddox and Lennox really do that to girls to get them in the crew? Not that I think they’re above that—at least Maddox. I’ve literally seen him with his dick in three different girls’ mouths at this point. And Lennox never seems to lack female attention, either, though I’ve never seen him indulge girls to the extent that Maddox does.
I knew they were a lot rougher than me, but I’m finally having to face that this is who they are. I’m way out of my element in our new neighborhood, but here am I, making the best of a bad situation. Sure, my friends are gangsters and a group of girls who proudly wear the label ofslut, but at least I’m not alone with my crow anymore.
My mother must be proud.
In PE, the coaches set up a volleyball net, crank up some music on a boombox, and sit around talking and ignoring us. They clearly don’t give two shits about teaching us. They’re just there to break up fights and make sure the school doesn’t get sued. I don’t know how to play, but thankfully I’m not totally hopeless at sports. At least a third of the class has decided not to play, so they sit in the bleachers talking, doing their makeup, looking at magazines, playing cards, and passing notes. If it weren’t for the participation grade, I’d sit up there and readIt.
But like any good nerd, I’m determined to have a straight-A transcript when I graduate, and that means not tarnishing my report card with a B in an easy class. Not even when half the boys PE class, which is supposed to be playing basketball on the far end of the gym, comes over and joins us instead. They spike the ball at the pretty girls, making them duck and cover their heads, hump the air and sing “Pony” when I bend over to pick up the ball, and generally harass us. Maddox is in the class, but he stays on the other end, playing basketball and drawing the attention of the girls on the bleachers.
I have PE the last hour of the day, so at least I don’t have to choose between showering in the nasty locker room or going through the day all sweaty. I’m happy to retreat to the locker room after class—a lot less happy when I open my locker and don’t see my regular clothes inside.
“Looking for something?” asks a sweet voice behind me. I turn to see Scarlet smirking at me, her arms crossed and one toe tapping.
“Where are my clothes?” I demand.
“Maybe they’re where they belong,” she says, blowing a big pink bubble with her gum. “Have you checked the trash?”
Gritting my teeth and digging my nails into my palms, I stomp over to the trash can. I’m not going to let this bitch get under my skin, no matter how vile she is. If she wants to stand there laughing at me while I pull my clothes from the trash and put them back on, there’s not much I can do about it. What I can control is my reaction. I’ll never cower in front of anyone like my mom does, never give her the reaction she wants. I’ll walk out of here with my head held high just to piss her off.
I pull the lid off the big plastic can, but all I see are paper towels and a used maxi pad wrapped up in its yellow plastic. The girls behind me are all snickering and giving me looks that have me as mortified as I am angry. I refuse to actually dig in the trash and have them laugh more.
“Where are they?” I snap, turning back to Scarlet and her little group of minions.
She taps her chin with one finger, her eyes rolling up toward the ceiling as if she’s thinking, her pretty pink lips pursed to one side. “Oh, that’s right,” she says. “The ones you’re wearing now are the trash. That’s why the last girl threw them away.”
I clench my teeth and glare. This bitch doesn’t know how far she’s pushing it.
Keisha snaps her fingers impatiently. “Throw them away, and we’ll give your clothes back.”
“Fat chance,” I snap. “Now give them back, or you’ll be sorry.”
“Girls,” she says, giving me a derisive look and crooking a finger to beckon them forward. “I think this bitch needs a lesson.”
They step toward me, and suddenly, fear spikes through me. I refuse to run, though. I’ll fight back as long as I can, and when they overwhelm me—there are five of them against one of me, and I’m not stupid enough to think I’ll actually win this fight—I’ll take it the same way I take Lee’s beatings. Silently, without giving them the satisfaction of breaking my will, even if they break my bones. I’ll walk out with my dignity in tact, if nothing else.
Scarlet grabs me, and I take great satisfaction in the look on her face when I punch her in her smug, glossy mouth. But the girls all pile on, grabbing me and pinning me down. I tense, ready to receive the blows and hating that my face is exposed. When Lee kicks the shit out of me, I can at least cover my head and fend off most of the hits to the face.
Instead of punching me, though, the girls yank my shorts down.