Ace of Spades Sneak Peek(29)

I don’t remember speaking to Scotty that night. I close my eyes, trying to recall something, anything. And as if a bucket of ice water has been tossed over my head, a massive chill pulls me into a memory.



* * *



“Can I tell you a secret?” Scotty asks, his voice startling me. I’m in one of the guest bedrooms. The door was supposed to be locked … I’m not sure how Scotty got in. The music blaring from the party downstairs is making my head spin.

“It’s about you…,” he says with a loopy smile.

“What secret?” I say, trying to sit up, panic rising inside.

He smirks a little, then takes a seat on the carpet next to me, almost spilling the concoction in his red Solo cup.

“I heard that Cecelia Wright isn’t a natural blonde,” Scotty says.

I blink at him.

“That’s not about me.” I stare.

“No, of course it isn’t … Your name is Chi, not CeCe.” He wipes his mouth and leans in close. He smells like death, and that’s the nice way of putting it.

“You know, I wasn’t meant to be here tonight … Snuck away when Mom wasn’t looking,” Scotty says.

I want to sleep, but I feel so nauseous and shaky. And I want to know what Scotty has on me.

Scotty looks up and takes my face in his hands. “You’re so pretty, Chi. Pretty as a doll.”

I pull at his hands. “What’s wrong with you?” I reach up to smooth my cheeks, but they feel wet. Was I crying? Why was I crying? I was … supposed to meet Jamie in his room, but he wasn’t—

“Why’re you hiding up here in this room? It’s a lot more fun downstairs.” Scotty’s voice slurs as he sways, knocking me a little. He completely ignored my question.

“I could ask you the same,” I say.

“Came to look for my girlfriend,” he says, laughing at the word girlfriend like it’s the most hilarious thing in the world. I don’t know if I should be offended or not.

“Well, she’s fine, so … you can go now.”

Scotty thrusts his hand out, this time spilling a bit of his drink, before concentrating hard on placing it down straight. When he does, he watches it suspiciously, holding his hands up like he has magical powers that will prevent his cup from defying gravity.

If it wasn’t obvious before, the moment he starts singing the chorus of “Hit Me Baby One More Time” it is clear as day that he is way too drunk to deliver himself home.

“Did you come here with anyone?” I can ask Jamie if he minds Scotty crashing here. Jamie’s friends will probably sleep in the guest rooms or one of the living rooms.

“No, but I might leave with someone … Let’s see where the night takes me.” He smiles sheepishly, and I hit him.

“You know, you are the worst boyfriend ever,” I say. He and I are only fake dating, since he’s on the football team and is semipopular and I’m on the verge of being very popular. We need each other. It’s political.

“I know,” he says, throwing his head back so hard it smashes against the wall, making me cringe. He groans, his fingers lost in the messiness of his hair as he cradles his skull.

“Are you okay?” I ask as his head slumps forward. He sniffs and I lean in, noticing his wet cheeks now.

Is Scotty crying?

“Do you need an ice pack?”

He shakes his head before I can even finish asking the question. “I’m such a shitty boyfriend.”

I don’t say anything. Is that why he’s crying? Because I don’t care about the whole authenticity of this relationship behind closed doors.

“All I do is cheat and lie and drink and be a fucking disappointment to Von and my parents and Niveus…”

Maybe he’s not talking about me after all.

He cries a little harder, picking his drink up again. I awkwardly pat his back.

I feel really sick. I’ve already thrown up in the bathroom, but I’m probably going to puke up my entire digestive system and die next to Scotty in this bedroom while everyone else adjusts normally to teenage life downstairs.

Scotty hugs his cup like it’s a stuffed toy. There’s a hole in his sock. His big pale toe sticks out, and it’s funny because he’s nothing like this sober. He’s always put together, in the finest clothes every legacy kid is expected to wear.

“You’re not a disappointment, Scotty. Trust me,” I say, smoothing down my dress. “And it’s my duty as your fake girlfriend to not let you die from alcohol poisoning.” I tug the cup out of his hands. He slumps back.

We are quiet for a while. I almost think he’s fallen asleep.

The door to the guest room opens once again.

“There you are. I went in my room to look for you, but you weren’t there … Everything okay?” Jamie asks.

I nod, still shivering. Face dry from tears. I probably look like a mess. I force a smile.

“Everything’s great,” I say.

“Good…” His eyes drift down to Scotty, next to me, now fast asleep. “Wanna go somewhere to talk?” He says this with a smirk.

I start to get up, surprised by how painful it is to do so.

An image flashes suddenly in my mind: someone pushing me down, me falling hard, crying, screaming for help—