You and Everything After (Falling #2)(49)

“I heard she slept with her coach,” one of the girls says, her whisper not really much of a whisper at all.

“No, it wasn’t her coach,” another girl says. It sounds like the girl I spoke to, Tabitha’s cousin. “It was a teacher. She’s a total homewrecker. The guy was married.”

“Oh my god, do you think that’s why she’s out here now? Would coach really put her on the team just because she slept with him?” the first girl says.

“Probably. I mean, Coach P. is lonely,” Tabitha’s cousin says, and the sound of her locker shutting follows, blended with arrogance and laughter.

My vision is clouding, but it isn’t from the MS—it’s from the sting of tears I’m fighting desperately to keep from falling. It’s been months since I’ve heard the whispers. My father made sure that the whispering back home stopped. It’s amazing what a well-written letter from one of California’s top law firms can do to gossip. But that letter seems only to have power back home—there are new rules here.

“What a bitch! I mean who does that, sleeps with someone’s husband? That’s low. She must have no self-respect,” the voice says.

Of everything said, this is the one statement that hits the hardest. Yes, there are times when I have had no self-respect. But I have a shitload now. And if you’re going to shame me, sum me up with a few rumored whispers swapped in a steamy locker room, then you might as well get the chance to say it to my face.

I zip my bag and stand on the bench on the other side of the lockers, making enough noise to make the other girls nervous. They can see the top of my head as I walk along the bench. I jump from the seat with enough force to cause my shoes to slap the concrete hard, the sound echoing. By the time I round the corner to face them, my chest is full of swagger.

“Oh, hi, ladies. I didn’t know you were still here,” I say, my smile caught somewhere between the words f*ck off and bitches. “Since you are, I thought I’d take this time to maybe clear a few things up.”

Their eyes are wide and their hands are limp at their sides—even the beautiful, confident one who started all this in the first place. This vision is priceless, and it makes the pulsating sick feeling in my stomach completely worth it.

“Yes,” I say, my lips falling into a comfortable smile, my mouth closed tightly while I wait for one of them to take my bait. The skinny blonde on the end does me the favor.

“Yes, what?” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder while her eyes roam up and down my body as if she can size me up—everything about me—with this one look.

“Yes, I slept with my coach in high school. And yes, I slept with my teacher. Slept with the principal at our school, too. I get around—collect other girls’ husbands and boyfriends. I don’t know why they always fall for me…” I keep up the false, flippant voice as I talk. “Maybe their women just can’t keep them satisfied. I’m so good that after a man sleeps with me, he gives me anything I want. You like being first team?”

When I say this, I turn my head to the girl with jet-black hair, because she’s the one I want to hurt the most.

“What? No response for me? Are you afraid I’ll spread my legs and f*ck my way into your position? I mean, why wouldn’t I, right? It’s what I do. I don’t earn anything myself. Those sprint times that are better than yours, my California scoring records, the goddamned trophy I hoisted up on my shoulders when our team won state—all lies. It’s really about the blowjobs I give behind closed doors—to recruiters, to whomever I need to, so I can get ahead. Because, yeah…that makes way more sense than the idea that maybe I’m just really f*cking good, and maybe I could help your team win nationals, and maybe…just maybe…my skills are threatening to you,” I snap my head to the third girl, sitting in the back, her breath held this entire time. “Or you.” I revel a little inside when she makes a chirping noise, scooting back in fear. She’s afraid of me. Good.

“I underestimated you girls. You’re too smart for me. Guess I’ll just have to earn my way into the captain’s job by showing your asses up out on the field instead of f*cking some fifty-year-old married man off campus. Damn, this way is going to be so much harder. Why’d you have to ruin my plan?”

I have left them speechless, each of their mouths opened, but unable to breathe. A year ago, I would have waited for them to leave, would have run home and cried in my closet, my whimpers muffled by my giant teddy bear, and then I would have fixed it all by putting out to some boy who didn’t love me, but who I could pretend did—at least for the night.

That was the old Cass. This Cass? She loves herself, or at least she’s working on it. She is more than her MS. And she has a boyfriend—who isn’t married, and isn’t her teacher, or just using her for a few hours and bragging rights.

And these bitches have just lost their starting positions on the team, because tomorrow I am going to humiliate them on that field. I don’t care if it kills me.

I slide away from them in my socks and sandals, my gear slung in my bag over my shoulder. I pop my gum once because my hands are both too full to give them the finger.

“See you ladies tomorrow. Hope you’re ready for me.” I bite down once and force a final smile before I turn and let the door slam behind me.