Jaded (Jaded #1)(54)

“No, you’re not, Mrs. Raimler.”

“Bryce Elliot Scout,” she said firmly, feigning outrage.

I snorted.

Bryce just grinned and kept eating.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The rest of the day was spent around Corrigan’s house. We all took turns at Guitar Hero. Corrigan was the best, no surprise. Bryce hadn’t spent as much time playing it since, until last week, everything centered around soccer.

I sucked. That was all there was to it, but for my defense—my mind was elsewhere.

After awhile, I padded into the guest bedroom and curled into a dreamless sleep.

I kept fighting it because I hadn’t wanted nightmares, but I was grateful when I woke up with no dreams and no nightmares.

Bryce knocked on my door and poked his head inside.

“Hey. Corr and I are going to go out for a little bit. Wanna come?”

“Where are you going?”

“Harris’ parents are out of town for the whole weekend. I think some of the guys are going to hang out, maybe shoot pool.”

I could stay and do nothing.

I got up and yawned, “Yeah. Can we stop at my place to get some clothes?”

“Sure,” Bryce left to tell Corrigan the plan and within another few minutes, Corrigan was driving us to my house.

As we pulled into the driveway, I asked, “Did anyone find Mena last night?”

Bryce murmured, watching their house, “No, but she must’ve gotten home alright. There she is.”

And there she was. She had already crossed her lawn and was just entering mine.

She was there by the time we got out of the car.

“Hey,” she said brightly.

Bryce ignored her while I murmured a half-hearted hello. Corrigan took my keys and let us inside.

“How’d you get home last night?”

“Yeah. That,” Mena exclaimed, flushed. “Sorry about Denton. I actually…I went to another party last night.”

“How? I drove.”

“I caught a ride. They told me about the party and it sounded fun. No Collette Chantal or Becky Lew at that party to torment me.”

I glared at Bryce’s back.

“So,” Mena continued. “It was fun.”

“Whose party?” Corrigan asked, reserved.

“Grace Barton. Her and her brother, Tim, threw a party.” At our blank faces, she explained, “They’re in a different crowd.”

“Who?” Corrigan asked what we all wondered.

“Tim Barton…he’s a swimmer. And Grace is in theater.”

“I know Barton,” Corrigan said slowly, frowning. “He’s a douche and his sister’s not hot.”

There it was. Corrigan had quickly classified Mena’s new friends as ‘losers.’

Bryce had already set up the fall and Mena had fallen last night into the arms of lesser social levels.

Judging by the embarrassed flush, Mena had already known it. It was just another kick in the gut when Corrigan has said it out loud.

“You guys are bastards,” I flared and brushed past them.

“What’d I say?” Corrigan asked.

I darted up the stairs, but I heard Bryce mutter, “Nothing. Let it go.”

Mena followed not long later and watched as I packed a bag of clothes. She sat on the bed and asked, “Where are you going this time?”

“I’m staying at Corrigan’s tonight.”

Her eyebrow arched.

“It’s not like that. Bryce and I are both staying there.”

She asked as she glanced at her hands, “What? You don’t want to live next door to me?”

“No.” I changed into a gold slinky shirt that was transparent at the midriff. It was covered by another transparent white sweater that was tailored for me.

“I heard about Leisha Summers,” Mena declared and watched me intently. “She was a friend of yours, right?”

I paused and looked at her. “How’d you hear about her?”

“It’s all over. I got eight calls today about it and I’m not even popular.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So the word is that you and Bryce found her.”

It was funny because when I looked at her, she didn’t look shocked, perturbed, a little sick. Nothing. She looked like she was holding a regular conversation about the weather or a party that night.

Maybe I shouldn’t complain about Bryce’s insights as much.

I shrugged. “Yeah. So?” It was becoming my trademark.

“Do you want to talk about it? I mean, with a girlfriend. It can’t be all that sharing with those two downstairs. They don’t strike me as the feelings type.”

How funny it was.

“I’m good. Thanks.” I finished dressing and grabbed my bag and purse.

“Hey, so…is that it?” Mena stood.

“Is what what?”

“I thought we were friends. You’re blowing me off.”

“No,” I said patiently. “I don’t want to talk about it. That’s different from blowing you off. And we are friends.”

“No, we aren’t,” Mena said shortly. “I know that you’d like to be, but those two downstairs just vetoed that. Corrigan’s never rude to a girl unless she’s a social outcast.