The Takedown(44)

But instead Ellie laughed again.

“Yeah, Ailey told me you tried to blame her, too. That you’re saying it’s fake.”

“What do you mean, I’m saying it’s fake? It is fake. I just told you. I found the original clip my hater used to doctor the video. A clip that you originally recorded.”

“The only fake thing around here is you.”

“Excuse me?”

This was not the Ellie Cyr I was used to. Ellie Cyr was nice. Ellie Cyr and I took a boot-camp class in the park our sophomore year and immediately got milk shakes afterwards. This version of Ellie was the girl who pushed through two defensive guards to dunk the game winner and smashed the backboard in the process. (Yes, that actually happened. It was amazing.) This Ellie was a girl I didn’t at all want to share frosty beverages with. Or be on the opposing side of.

“You heard me, Cheng.”

One long leg following the other, Ellie stepped over the changing bench to hover over me, like she was trying to engage in one of those chest-bumping competitions. My knees gave. I sat down hard on the bench behind me. She smirked.

“Ailey also told me about how you abandoned her freshman year all because Audra brought you a juice.”

My face was level with Ellie’s belly button.

I frowned, mumbled, “She also said there was only one seat.”

“So you pull up another one. Ailey was your best friend.”

“We were fourteen. Friends break up all the time.” I stood back up. Ellie didn’t move to give me more space, so the top of my head was right beneath her nose. I stepped out from under her. “Look. I didn’t come to talk about Ailey. I came to talk about the video you took.”

“The sex video?” Ellie turned back toward her locker, folding her school clothes and shoving them in her bag.

“No. The video that was used to put me into the sex video.”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.” She looked genuinely puzzled, but then gave me that smirk again. “‘Put you into’ the sex video? How would I do that, with magic? I didn’t make that video, Kyle. Because no one did. You can’t make reality.”

This was getting me nowhere. It was time for a different tactic.

“Look, Ellie, I have no static with you, but I know you’re friends with Jessie and I thought—”

“So you didn’t come to blame me, you just came to blame my best friend.”

“Wait, I thought Ailey was your best friend.” And she was scolding me for being disloyal? “And actually, I did come to blame you, but now that we’re talking, I’m pretty sure you had nothing to do with it.”

“I meant she’s one of my best friends,” Ellie huffed. “I’m not like you. I stand by my people. Besides, Jessie wouldn’t do this either; she’s not—”

“Creative enough,” I filled in, until I realized that wasn’t the descriptor Ellie was searching for. “Grimacing face. Sorry.”

“I was going to say she’s not that mean. Something else you wouldn’t know anything about. If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna hit the machines or I might hit something else.”

Spinning around faster than I’d expected, Ellie stormed past me and rammed me so hard in the shoulder that I stumbled backwards.

“Geez, Ellie,” I said. “Watch it.”

And then I did something stupid. I pushed her. Only a little, but that was all it took.

Now, at five eight I wasn’t short, but have I mentioned Ellie Cyr was six foot two? Her nickname was Empire State. As in the building. Next thing I knew, a tourist attraction–sized girl slapped me across the face. The force of the slap knocked me back two steps. My head smacked into the lockers behind me.

“Whoa,” Ellie said, as I felt my cheek with a shaky hand.

And maybe if she’d apologized, things would have been different, but she didn’t. Her surprise was immediately replaced by that smirk, and something inside me snapped. I charged. We flew over the bench that divided the row of lockers and tumbled to the floor. Ellie had a fistful of my hair in one hand and was punching my ribs with the other. I tried to shield the blows while also landing a few of my own. I was not successful.

“Hey!” someone shouted. But not at us, because then they said, “No PHDs allowed in the locker room. What are you recording?”

When I looked up, whoever was filming us was gone. A click later, in that person’s place huffed a Y staff member.

“Girls,” she said, “what are you doing lying on the floor like that? Come on now. Y’s closing early today. I suggest you hurry up, get on with your exercise, and then go have yourselves a happy holiday. Some of us would like to do the same.”

Ellie was breathing heavily. Pushing away from me, she sat against the lockers with her head in her hands. Her shoulders shook like she was sobbing. When she looked up, she was laughing so hard she was barely able to breathe. The employee tsked, muttered something about missing Christmas Eve drinks for this nonsense, and plodded off.

“Oh my God,” Ellie wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes. “I’ve never gotten in a fight before. Wait till the girls hear. Your cheek is all red.”

“Because you slapped me,” I said, which made Ellie laugh harder.

Ellie got to her feet, inspected her arms and legs for damage, then adjusted her ponytail. Stray bobby pins littered the floor around her like fallen leaves.