Ace of Spades Sneak Peek(19)

I’m just waiting for them to break up, like I predict they will. I’m not sure how but it will happen, I’m certain. Belle is beautiful, but she’s not me. She doesn’t know Jamie like I do. He needs me just as much as I need him.

Their flirting continues for most of the class, and it’s like being slowly tortured to death. I’m relieved when the clock shows that it’s almost time for the bell, as I’ve reached the end of my tether at this point.

“Jamie, are we taking your car or walking to my place later?” I ask, despite not really needing to. I just want it—them—to stop. “For our Marvel binge.” Every second Wednesday of the month, we go over to each other’s house, eat junk food, and watch superhero films.

Belle frowns. “I thought we were hanging out today.”

I squint at her.

Jamie looks between the two of us, a torn expression on his face.

“Chi and I have this tradition … Sorry, babe.”

Babe. That’s new.

The bell rings. “AP Calculus with Mr. Duncan or Mr. Calhoun?” he asks her.

“Duncan,” she says.

I smile.

“Calhoun for me and Chi.”

What a pity.

They kiss and I look away again.

“See you at lunch?” Belle asks, looking at Jamie, then me.

“Sure.”

I say nothing, studying my nails for imperfections. I find none.

“Look at you, all loved up,” I say after Belle goes. We make our way down the marble hallway.

“Belle is great, isn’t she?” I can literally see the hearts in Jamie’s eyes as he says this. The way he’s acting, you’d think they’d been dating longer than a few weeks.

“Great is an adjective, I guess.”

Jamie wraps his arm around my shoulders, and I side-eye him.

What game are you playing, Jamie?

He kisses my forehead. I whack him.

He wipes his mouth. “Why’s there water in your hair?”

I snort. “It’s coconut oil.”

“Smells good,” he tells me, smirking.

I hold his gaze for a moment. A plan starts forming in my head. “Let’s invite Belle today,” I tell him.

His eyes go wide, eyebrows rising.

“Really?” He sounds so excited.

“Yeah, I would love for her to join us.”

“You’re the best, Chi,” he says as we enter Mr. Calhoun’s classroom.

I know, I think, even though I’m not sure how much I believe it. If I were the best, he would have chosen me first.

I learned a long time ago that the key is to make others think you know you’re the best. But what happens when the cracks start to show? When those around you don’t always believe what you feed them? And how can they, when you don’t even believe it, not fully … You pretend that you don’t cry sometimes when you see your reflection, that you don’t stare at other girls and wonder what it would be like to be anyone else but yourself. The real Chiamaka. The person I’m always trying to run away from.

This year I was finally meant to have the perfect boyfriend. I was supposed to leave a lasting impression, make sure everyone at Niveus never forgets me, then move on to greater things.

But it’s not too late. I won’t let these small defeats get to me.

There is a chorus of buzzes and text sounds, and I scramble for my phone, fingers trembling as I clutch it. A text notification from anonymous appears on the screen.

It’s a video.

[1 new message from unknown]

Just in. Porn is easy to come by these days. You either search for it online or it falls right in your lap when you least expect it to.—Aces

I don’t click on the video. The thumbnail is enough to know this isn’t about me. But I can hear the sounds of it playing from Jamie’s phone.

“Can you turn that off?” I tell him, before pocketing my phone and moving to take my usual seat at the front of calc class.

I listen to the sounds of people laughing, and feel agitated. Aces is clearly not holding back.

I’m a careful person, but I’m not perfect. There are things I’ve done, things that could ruin me. Blond hair. So much blood. And things I can’t remember. A disjointed memory of the night I first kissed Jamie sears my mind …

What else do they have on me?





9


DEVON

Wednesday


Since lunch, I’ve been getting stares.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the latest Aces blast was about me, but the question is, what about me? And why do I receive blasts about others only, and not myself?

It’s probably this “Aces” person’s twisted way of adding to the sick feeling in my stomach as much as they can.

“Hey, Richards!” some guy shouts as I walk down the hallway. I stop to look at him. He smirks before wrapping his arms around himself, kissing the air and making smooching noises.

It’s not even been a full week and already senior year is sucking on a level I never imagined it could.

Exiting the double doors of the school brings me a sense of peace. Because at least now, the school day is over and I can go home.

A hand grabs my arm and jerks me into an alley by the main school building. I’m thrown against the brick wall and I hiss, my back throbbing in several places as I collide with the rough surface.