“Hayley Smith,” she started. The lunchroom was eerily quiet. It seemed everyone wanted to know my story. In any other circumstance, I might have felt flattered. But not this version of myself. My life was anything but ideal. “Hayley Smith has been in seven different foster homes in the last few years. Such a shame. But can you blame them? Who would want to keep such an ugly, poor, raggedy girl around?” She laughed, along with a few others, and I honestly couldn’t believe there were girls like her that still existed. “Hayley’s father was murdered when she was in middle school, and her mama took it a little hard.” Madeline’s eyes sliced over to mine as she trotted around the lunchroom, stopping by each table for a brief moment before moving to the next. “Hard as in…does the hard drugs now. But once again, can you blame her? Who wouldn’t want to be high all the time with a daughter like that? After all, she’s the reason her daddy was murdered.”
My head twitched a fraction. My palms began to sweat. My feet were itching to move toward her. How does she know all this, and why is she telling everyone?
“Poor Hayley,” she said, walking over to Christian’s table. I was beginning to let my guard down. It was starting to get to me. My stomach hurt. My heart was aching with each beat against my rib cage. No, don’t let it in. Don’t feel, Hayley. She finds you as a threat; that’s why she’s doing this. I ground my teeth, pushing all thoughts of my parents away. My eyes began to gloss over, but I hurriedly blinked the tears away. “She’s poor, guys, and I honestly have no idea why she’s here in this school, but I feel kind of bad for her.”
“Why exactly are you talking about me like I’m not in the room?” I asked, my voice as steady as the three-hundred-year-old oak tree in the courtyard.
Madeline looked appalled that I had interrupted her story time. A few people snickered, and she shot them a look with her eyes no bigger than slits. “Because trash like you doesn’t deserve to be talked to. Only about.”
I shifted on my feet. “So, you like to spend your free time talking about trash? That seems strange.”
Madeline’s perfect round face formed angry wrinkles. Then, almost as if she had gotten a brilliant idea, her face lit up. She scooted closer to Christian, and I felt that tiny piece of jealousy creeping in. She sat on his lap, and my heart began to thud faster and faster. He leaned in close, his sharp jawline taunting me as he whispered something in her ear. She nodded with a conniving smile on her face. I noticed his hand creeping along her bare thigh beneath her skirt, and a chill ran down my spine. Stop feeling. He’s not yours. And he never was mine—not in that way, at least.
Before I knew it, Madeline was standing up and walking over to me with a tray of food in her hands. It didn’t take long for me to realize it was Christian’s. Every guy sitting at his table was trying to hold back grins and laughs as Madeline approached me. I turned my neck and looked at her group of friends, and they were also trying to hide little smirks. I took half a second and met Christian’s eye before Madeline leaned into my personal space.
“Ya know, since you’re poor, do you want something to eat?” Yes. I did want something to eat. But I’d have rather chewed my arm off than admit that to these people. The entire cafeteria was under her thumb. I swiveled my head back to Christian. Or his thumb. What made me angry about this entire situation was the fact that Madeline knew I’d feel jealous with her sitting close to Christian. I was certain it was a lucky guess; I was sure every girl in this school wanted a piece of him, which was why she felt threatened in the first place. But she was right. It did bother me. Christian’s looks alone were enough to lure any girl in.
“Nope. Not hungry,” I said matter-of-factly. “Thanks, though.”
And just like that, the entire tray of food was shoved into my chest with a thud. My stomach buckled forward as the tray clanked to the floor. Silverware ricocheted off the glossy tile and skittered over to the trash cans. My white shirt was covered in some kind of red sauce, and I was instantly pissed because of three things: One, I really could have used the food. What a waste. Two, I now had to figure out how to get a stain out of this shirt by tomorrow or else everyone would know just how bad off I was. And three, I somehow didn’t see that coming.
Madeline whispered in my ear. “You don’t belong here. And stay away from Christian.” Then, she spun around and took a dramatic bow. Our peers wooed her, but I ignored them all. It wasn’t the first time someone wanted to show their dominance to the new girl. But it did surprise me that Christian was a part of it. Back in middle school, when people would tease or bully his younger brother, Ollie, he’d shut them down within a blink of an eye. But here at English Prep, it didn’t seem he cared much. In fact, it was as if he encouraged it. It was obvious that it was his idea for Madeline to pour his tray on my uniform. Christian was the bully now—or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he just stood up for people he cared about.
And he obviously didn’t care about me anymore.
I left the lunchroom as slowly as possible to head for the bathrooms, not wanting anyone to think I was running away from Madeline or her threat. The girl’s bathroom was as pristine as the rest of the school, the ceramic sinks sparkling as if they were scrubbed clean seconds before walking in here.
I glanced at my shirt and bit the inside of my cheek. For fuck’s sake. I hurriedly untied the stupid bow around my neck and unbuttoned the front of my blouse. The air conditioner blew on my bare shoulders as I shrugged it off and began running it under water.
“Make sure that’s cold water or else it’ll stain worse.” My eyes flicked up into the mirror, but I was only met with my own face and the navy stalls behind me. I began running the damaged cotton under the cold water and scrubbing some hand soap on it.
“Here,” I heard the voice again. I dropped my head when something nudged my shoe. It was a stain removal pen, the kind that I’d expect only an old lady to keep in her purse.
Slowly, I bent down and grabbed it. “Thanks.” The scent of fabric cleaner filled my nose when the creak of a stall door caught my attention. I kept my gaze on my shirt, respecting the girl’s need to keep her face hidden.
“You’re welcome,” she answered, coming up beside me. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, and she smiled nervously. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
This had me turning my head to get a good look at her face. I searched every curve, the jade color of her eyes, the pin-straight penny-colored hair. “Should I?” I asked, putting the cap back on her stain removal pen. I held it out to her, and she took it back slowly.
She snorted. “No, I’m not very… memorable.”
I wished I could say the same about myself, but thanks to my parents, I’d always be remembered.
The girl tucked her hair behind her ears and shifted nervously on her feet. She was wearing expensive-looking black shoes, their shine catching my eye as she moved farther away from me. “We went to middle school together before you moved.” She half-rolled her eyes. “I actually moved shortly after you but made it back here before my junior year.”
“Oh,” I muttered, wringing out my now stain-free blouse. Fuck you, Madeline.
“I’m not surprised you don’t remember me.”