Ace of Spades Sneak Peek(20)

“Do you want to get killed?!” Jack shouts.

“No—”

“Then why the fuck is your fucking sex tape floating around the fucking school?”

My what?

Oh my god.

I might throw up. I can’t breathe … My legs are shaking … My head is spinning.

“I need to find Scotty,” I manage. I need to kill Scotty. A part of me wants to ask to see the video, see how bad it is, but I don’t know if I can handle that.

Jack says nothing. His face is scrunched up, and he’s breathing hard. I don’t know what it is about his expression, but it makes me feel like I should be ashamed of myself.

Like I should feel dirty.

Before he knew I was gay, Jack didn’t look at me like that. He was the first person I told, back when we were still in middle school. Before I came out, life was us having each other’s back, sleepovers, and video games, while Ma was away at work, when we had no one but each other. Now it’s this: Jack hating me for something I can’t change. The both of us wishing things could go back to the way they were before I said those words.

We stare at each other. I have to stop myself from apologizing—because what would I even be sorry for? Existing too loud?

I break eye contact, pushing off the wall, my legs unsteady as I run back into the school, a place I’m starting to hate more than ever. Girls giggle when they see me, and I get it now. I get the mocking from earlier. It’s all making sense.

I’m so embarrassed.

My sight blurs and I try to catch my breath, but I keep choking on air. I sniff, rushing forward, bursting into Crombie, high on adrenaline.

I’m gonna kill Scotty.

I jump onto the stage and tear through the curtain to where the girl from Tuesday is sitting next to Scotty’s slumped figure, rubbing his back. His blue letterman jacket is draped over the back of his chair.

I try calming my breathing before I speak.

“Scotty,” I say. No response.

The girl looks at me with an annoyed expression plastered onto her semi-plastic face. Her nose, which I now notice is a little slanted—I assume from a botched surgery—scrunches up at me.

“Scotty,” she whispers, and he looks up and then looks away.

“My career is probably over,” Scotty says.

My chest is still heaving.

“All the successful people these days have sex tapes. This is a step in your favor,” says the girl. I want to hit her.

Scotty nods. “True.”

I want to hit him.

“Scotty,” I say again.

“Can’t you see this is hard for him?” the girl tells me.

I want to laugh. “Hard for him? He’s the one who made the video, and he was the only one who had that video.”

“You’re barely in the video, and Scotty said he deleted it. Besides, do you know how easy it is to hack into anyone’s cloud?” she huffs.

“What?” I say, because I’m so confused. What the fuck is she going on about? I don’t care if I’m barely in it. The fact that I am, and everyone saw it—

I scrunch that thought up like it’s written on a mental sheet of paper. If this gets back home, if Ma sees this, she’s going to be so disappointed in me; she’ll see me differently. And Dre—he said …

“Well, I mean … I guess everyone knows it was you because we heard your voice and Scotty says your name; you guys are pretty vocal—”

“I know it’s you doing this, Scotty,” I say, face burning. “I know it’s you sending the messages, leaking stuff.”

Scotty stares at me, blond hair messy and covering his eyes as a smile slowly appears on his lips. The girl next to him watches us hungrily.

“You think I’m Aces?” he asks, feigning offense.

He’s the only person I can think of with the motive to hurt me and maybe even Chiamaka. We both dumped him.

“It makes sense. You and I aren’t friends anymore, and you’re the only one who could have sent out that video…”

His smile falters a little. I must be imagining it, because surely someone as self-centered as Scotty couldn’t care less about what I think of him.

“That’s right, we aren’t friends, or anything close to that—so why would I waste my time? Why bother with someone no one here cares about? Chiamaka, maybe. People actually want to read about her, but why would I bother with you? What would I get out of that?” he asks.

There’s a tiny pang as his words hit me.

Scotty looks down at his lap, pulling his phone out of his pocket and scrolling like I’m not here anymore.

I used to be able to tell when Scotty was lying. When we were dating, I’d always get this twisting feeling in my gut, something telling me he wasn’t being a hundred percent honest. When he’d admit to cheating on me, what would hurt me most was the fact that I’d known deep down he wasn’t being truthful. He’d confess, I’d cry, we’d kiss and make up. Until the day I broke the cycle and finally stopped letting myself be treated like that. Now, though, I can’t tell. There’s no twisting in my gut, nothing to tell me whether he means it. Whether he had anything to do with this.

“Could you go now? I told you I don’t have any pictures or videos, so you have your answer. I’m not Aces. Laura and I are busy. I haven’t got time to be speaking to nobodies.”