Lovely Girls(12)

Anyway. The new school.

Alex exhaled a long sigh and then shook her head. She picked up a yellow throw pillow and held it in front of her, clutching it to her chest like a shield.

Where to begin? First of all, it’s huge. As soon as I passed through security and turned in to the first hallway, it was like walking right into a sea of people. There were surfer dudes and goth girls, band nerds and athletes, girls with blue hair and girls with the sort of long spiral curls that require a solid hour to style. And, obviously, I didn’t know anyone. And it was so crowded, I couldn’t figure out where I was going. I had English lit first period and had no idea where the classroom was. I actually wished I’d paid more attention at orientation.

I finally found where my classroom was and took the nearest open seat. I was all sweaty, and I know my face was probably bright red, and I was suddenly totally paranoid that everyone was staring at me. I glanced around, and I could not freaking believe who I had sat down next to. It was Daphne. The horrible girl that yelled at me in the park.

She was talking to the two girls I’d seen her with before. Callie, the girl with the freckles and stick-straight strawberry-blonde hair. And Shae, the tall brunette with the big boobs.

Daphne was complaining about how hot the room was. “This place is the same old shit show,” she was saying. She kept tossing her ponytail back over her shoulder. “God, I can’t wait to get out of here.”

“I know, right?” Shae said. I can already tell she’s basically Daphne’s minion, bobbleheading along to everything Daphne says.

It seemed like they were annoying Callie, because she said, “It’s only the first day of school. Are you two going to spend our entire senior year complaining?”

That made Daphne smile. “Probably,” she said. “God, it stinks in here. What is that?”

“Axe body spray and desperation,” Callie said without looking up from her phone.

Daphne laughed. Then suddenly, before I knew what was happening, her head swiveled in my direction. “Oh, my God. What are you staring at?”

And I just looked back at her, unable to speak. I tried to make myself say something, anything, but nothing came to mind. It was like that first day I saw them at the tennis courts. And the thing was, I had been staring at them. Eavesdropping on their conversation.

I knew before she even spoke that it was going to be bad. I just didn’t know how bad. She looked me up and down, her eyes narrowing into slits, and she said, “Oh, my God. It’s that pervert who was taking a video of you guys playing tennis the other day.”

She was so loud, the whole class could hear. Everyone turned to stare at me. I could feel their eyes on me. It was like having bugs crawling all over my skin.

And Daphne didn’t stop there. Instead, in the same loud voice, she said, “Do you guys think she’s a lesbo? Maybe she was taking that video so she could jerk off to it later.”

I wanted to die. Right then, right there. I wanted to be dead. And it’s not because Daphne called me a lesbian. I mean, who cares if someone’s gay? It was that she was making me out to be some sort of a creeper. Basically no one will even want to know me after this. It was the first day of school, and I’ve already been canceled at Shoreham High.

A tear streamed down Alex’s cheek. She wiped at her eyes with one hand and then shook her head, looking angry and dazed.

And she wouldn’t even leave it there. Once class started, I glanced over at Daphne. I didn’t even mean to. I just couldn’t help myself. And she was staring at me, openly, like I was some kind of a lab experiment. And then she smirked and mouthed the word freak.

I already knew she was awful. But it’s way worse than that.

Daphne’s evil. In fact, I think the world would be a better place if she were . . . oh, shit. My mom’s home.

Alex looked over her shoulder and then turned back toward the camera. She fumbled with her phone, causing the picture to skew sideways, and a moment later, the recording ended.





CHAPTER SEVEN




* * *





KATE

On Friday afternoon, I stopped by the tennis club where I’d signed Alex up for a junior membership. She was out on one of the green clay courts, hitting against a ball machine. Every time it spat out a yellow ball with a popping sound, she’d run toward it, her racket angled behind her, and hit the ball with a whipping stroke that sent it explosively back over the net. I watched her through the wire fence for a few minutes, amazed by her power and absolute focus.

The machine finally ran out of balls. Alex turned it off and grabbed a metal basket. She began picking up the balls she’d scattered around the court.

“Hey, honey,” I called out to her. “When you’re done, we should get going.”

“I’m not ready.” Alex’s tone was clipped. “I have to work on my forehand.”

“You can practice more tomorrow. I told you we were invited to dinner at the Thackers’ house. We can’t be late.”

“Tryouts are Monday, and there are eight girls competing for only two spots. The rest of the team has already been practicing for weeks. I have to be perfect.”

“That’s a pretty high goal to set for yourself,” I remarked. “What happened to just doing your best?”

Alex shot me a look I couldn’t quite read. I remembered a time when I knew all of her expressions, even knew what she was going to say before she spoke.