Bad, Bad Bluebloods (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #2)(33)

“He’s got a job that people actually care about,” Zayd snaps back, and I can tell I’ve hit a nerve. Good. Screw him. I chose him. I chose him and he betrayed me. It makes everything so much worse. His characteristic tobacco, clove, and sage scent fills the air in the limo, and my nostrils flare. “He’s not, like, you know, some easily replaceable blue collar worker that could be substituted with a monkey or a machine.”

“At least my dad has a heart and gives two craps about me,” I snarl, and Charlie puts a hand on my knee. “Musicians are a dime a dozen. Your dad is nothing but a performing monkey dressed in tattoos and the words of some ghost writers who pen hits for the masses. Give me a break.”

Zayd scowls at me, shoving up from his seat and pushing open the door while the car’s still rolling to a stop. He takes off as Dad sighs and gives me a look. I cringe, but only because I’m frustrated that he had to listen to this bullshit. Zayd deserves whatever I throw at him.

The football stadium is huge, much fancier than you’d expect for a high school. Actually, it reminds me of that one time Dad took us to a U of O home game at Autzen Stadium in Eugene, Oregon. It’s far too elaborate, especially considering that before this year, our team was ranked, like, dead last in their district.

Zack has changed all of that.

If they win tonight’s game, they’ll be going to the playoffs.

I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen.

Tonight, we’re playing Grenadine Heights High—the number one team in our district for almost two straight decades. It’s sort of a big deal.

Dad leaves me to go take his seat in the stands while I join Coach Hannah and the rest of the girls just outside the entrance to the stadium. The way they look at me as I saunter up to them … priceless. Ileana curses under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear, but not enough that the coach notices.

Coach runs us through our warm up and stretches, my heart racing, sweat dripping down my spine. And it’s from more than just the exercise—I’m about to wreck Zack Brooks’ football career, and bring down the rest of the team with him.

I might move slow, but I’m a planner. It’s what I do.

After we warm up, we head into the stadium and take up our positions at the edge of the field. As far as coach is concerned, games are practice. We’re gearing up for competition. When the Burberry Prep football team is licking their wounds, I’ll be helping their cheer team get their first ever trophies.

The timing was delicate on this one, so I shift from side to side, glancing briefly up at the scoreboard and the clock. The minutes tick past slow as hours as we gear up for our first ever cheer. I’m a bit of an academic and a bookworm, and this is so not my scene, but I force a smile. It’s hard, though, with Tristan, Zayd, and Creed in the audience. I can see them, front and center, flanked by the Inner Circle. Pretty sure they’re all staring at me.

As we start our routine, I notice that Coach Hannah’s phone is buzzing.

My mouth twitches, half in grimace and half in grin.

If I’d wanted to, I could’ve done any number of things to Zack Brooks, something like spiking his food or drink with steroids and reporting him. But that’s not my game here. I don’t want to bring myself down to their level. Does it make things harder? Sure. When I sat down and made those rules though, I was serious.

Let them hang themselves with their own rope.

If they didn’t fuck with me, if they stopped fucking with me, then nothing bad would happen to them.

Coach Hannah glances from her screen and up to me, my arms in the air, my tight polyester shell riding slightly up. She turns to her assistant coach, and I see them whisper briefly. In the stand, Principal Collins has her gray brows raised, her mouth slightly agape. And as we finish our cheer, I glance over my shoulder and see the varsity football coach—Buck Rolands—calling Zack off the field.

Zack jogs over, pulling off his shiny black helmet, his brows crinkled, his big, muscular body made to look even larger with all the pads he’s wearing. He pauses next to his coach and glances down at the video on the phone screen.

His face goes shock-white before he glances over at me and meets my eyes. I smile, but it’s not a pretty smile. No, it’s one of those fuck you smiles that the Idols have given me countless times in the past year and a half.

What goes around comes around, I think as Principal Collins makes her way down the steps, and the crowd begins to buzz with gossip. I’ve sent the same video to every member of staff. It wasn’t hard to get their numbers. Actually, because this is a boarding school, every student is given an emergency list of the staff’s personal cell numbers in case of an accident or emergency during off-hours. Using it for a non-emergency is strict grounds for suspension, but I have that covered: I used a burner phone.

Remember those imperative items that I just had to shop for?

Yeah, well, that was on the list.

A hushed argument is carried out between Principal Collins, Vice Principal Castor, Coach Rolands, and, a few moments later, Zack’s mother, Robin. All I’ve ever seen or heard about that woman is that she’s nice to a fault. I used to wonder, back at LBMS, how she ever created such a monster as Zack Brooks. I hear his father and grandfather are real pieces of work, but Robin was never anything but nice to me, even when her son was bullying me to the point of suicide.

The look on Zack’s face as she watches that video … it almost hurts me.