Lost Girls(49)

Dylan stood, bowing his head slightly to the frenetic crowd. A girl came onto the platform and wiped away his blood, then handed him an ice pack. All the while, his gaze remained fixed upon me and heat flowed from my shoulders down my back, all the way to my feet. He pointed at me, maybe telling me to stay where I was, then he turned to descend.

The crowd came alive to me then, for the first time since I had walked into the room and realized that Dylan was onstage and in the midst of a fight. Faces came into focus. I saw several other guys surrounding the stage, all without shirts, large black ravens tattooed on their backs. When they turned, I recognized them—Brett, Jim, and Mike, all the crowd we hung out with at lunch. I was temporarily stunned.

The boys from school were the Ravens, the girls were the Swans.

I glanced down at the F that dangled from my neck, my fingers running over the letter, trying to remember what it stood for. Lauren leaned nearer and shouted in my ear.

“You’re a flyweight, just like me,” she said. Then she held up her letter, an F. “Stephanie’s a bantamweight and Zoe’s a strawweight.”

I still wasn’t sure what it all meant, but I nodded. Acting like I was in charge was crucial here. I knew there was no room for confusion—it could be interpreted as weakness. I grinned at Brett when his eyes met mine, giving him a thumbs-up sign. He hadn’t expected to see me—that much was clear in his eyes—but he also knew that we both had to feign strength. He returned the gesture with enthusiasm, adding a loud whoop along with it. The other Ravens turned and saw me, a slightly surprised look on their faces that quickly turned to joy.

One of them bowed toward me. The other gave me a salute.

Their actions caught the attention of the crowd and soon many of the teens surrounding the stage were looking at me. I recognized many, some from Brett’s party, the boys who had been watching me throughout the evening, whispering about me, saying I was hot. A few feet away stood the boy I had kneed in the crotch. He gave me a wry grin and a nod. I returned the gesture.

Unfortunately, not all of the crowd was friendly.

To the left, I caught a glimpse of blue hair, five girls clustered together, one of them staring at me with her jaw clenched.

Janie Deluca. The girl I’d left lying in the street last night.

I lifted my chin and she lowered her gaze, bowing her head, a public act of submission. When she finally raised her head, I gave her a smile. She stared at me, puzzled at first. Maybe I’d never been kind to someone I’d beaten before, maybe it wasn’t proper etiquette, but I didn’t care. I’d beaten her and won. There was no need for bad blood between us. Her smile came back, hesitant at first, then with more confidence, the steely look in her eyes softening.

I turned back toward the stage, an unsettling feeling in my gut as I realized I had been a real bitch this past year—just like Molly said yesterday. A Prima Donna Bitch.

A huddle of people worked up on the stage, all overseen by another disguised man, this one wearing a gold and blue lucha libre mask. He directed the rest of the Skull team as they tended to the loser’s wounds and then carried him offstage. A couple of creepy old guys were mopping up blood and sweat from the floor, getting the stage ready for another match. Excitement buzzed through me as I wondered who was going to compete next. I had just started to examine the chattering huddles around me, trying to figure out which of them would be going up on the stage when Dylan pushed his way toward me.

“Look out,” Lauren said, rolling her eyes. “It’s gonna hit the fan now!”

Zoe took a step back, a startled expression on her face. I held her by the arm, preventing her from retreating any further. “There’s nothing to worry to about,” I told her.

“You don’t know,” she said.

Stephanie stood beside me, silent, not moving, as if she would be there for me if I needed her. Dylan’s eyes narrowed and he pointed a finger at Lauren, his voice raised as he approached.

“What the hell are you doing, bringing Rachel here?” he demanded.

Lauren shrugged, trying to look tough, but it wasn’t working.

“What kind of friend are you?” He was in her face now, his muscles gleaming from sweat, his chest and arms still naked. His brow furrowed when he glanced at me and for a second I could see how glad he was that I was here and that I had watched him fight. Then that expression faded when he turned on Lauren again. “You’ve always been jealous of her, haven’t you? And you know it’s Open Floor Night—”

“She can handle it. She’s never lost a fight!”

“She’s not ready for it—”

I pushed my way between them. “What are you two arguing about?” I demanded.

But before either one of them could answer, the announcer started talking from the stage, his voice booming throughout the room. “It’s Open Floor Night and our next contestant is coming up right now. Give up a cheer for Komodo!”

The crowd roared and I turned back toward the stage, cheering along with them, eager to see another battle. The first fight had just gotten my engine started. I was hoping that the next contestants would fight standing—I wanted to see kicks and spins.

“You have to get out of here, now!” Dylan said, grabbing my arm and trying to drag me away from the stage area. “Before anyone sees you.”

“A lot of people have already seen me,” I said, pulling away from him. “By the way, it’s good to see you, too.” My tone was snarky and I kept my attention fixed on the stage, wanting to find out who was up next. A girl rose to the platform, wearing purple shorts and a matching tank top, her hair braided in tight cornrows. Something about her looked familiar, but I didn’t recognize her until she turned around and pointed a finger at me. A purple dragon tattoo covered her right arm. It was Sammy, that bitch from my history class. She glowered at me and I gave her the same look back.