The Queen B* and the Homecoming King (18 page)

As Sanchez walked away, Richard and I
exchanged glances. We both knew one person who fit the bill. One person who spouted this kind of hate mantra on a regular basis. One person who’d had it out for Richard since last week.

Kelsey Buchannan.

“Come on,” I said, not waiting to see if Richard would follow. “I think it’s time Kelsey and I had a little chat.”

I entered the school office as though I owned it. “Where does Kelsey Buchannan
have homeroom?”

Mrs. Davis, the school secretary, pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and gave me a chilly smile. “That’s none of your business, Ms. Wyndham.”

“Actually, it is. I think she’s behind this.” I paused long enough to show her one of the pictures I’d snapped on my phone. “And if you don’t help me get to the bottom of this, I’ll make sure to include that in my next blog post.”

The chilly smile gave way to a resentful frown. Mrs. Davis had been the secretary at Eastline since before I’d arrived, and she’d seen the staff turnover caused by
The
Eastline Spy
. She didn’t want to end up on the chopping block. “I don’t know what you think Miss Buchannan has to do with this, but I can tell you she’s been out sick since yesterday. Don’t make accusations you can’t support. I’ll
make a note to have our custodial staff remove the paint. ”

She turned back to typing on her computer, allowing me to digest this new bit of information.

If Kelsey hadn’t been at school, then who else could it have been?

***

Richard’s locker was scrubbed clean by lunch, and he waved me away when I offered to hang around to keep an eye out for him. He’d confirmed that Kelsey had missed debate
team practice yesterday, and he promised to let me know if she was there this afternoon.

When I got to my car, however, I found one person who wanted to prevent my getaway.

Summer Hoyt leaned against my car, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. The last time she’d met me this way, she’d warned me to stay away from Brett. I braced for a similar threat, but it never came.

Her words still
held a hint of hostility, though, as she asked, “How’s Brett?”

“Why?” I asked, clicking the remote starter on my key fob and enjoying the way she jumped when the engine came on.

“Listen, Alexis, I have better things to do than play games with you, so I’m going to get right to the point. Contrary to what you think, I care about Brett. All of his friends do. And as far as I know, you’re the only
one who’s spoken to him since his accident. So, since you hold all the information, I’ll tolerate your presence long enough to know how he’s doing.”

I studied her for a moment, and for some odd reason, my mom’s words flashed through my mind.
When you love someone, you’re willing to make compromises
. I doubted Summer loved Brett, but she cared enough to step away from her campaign to become Homecoming
Queen to approach me for information, even though I was the one who’d “stolen” him from her.

And because I cared about Brett, too, I decided to play nice for once. “He was half-asleep from the pain meds when I saw him yesterday.”

“Any idea when he’ll be back?” she asked, her question lacking its usual bite.

I shook my head. “I’ll let you know, though.”

She straightened and gave me several
rapid blinks. “What’s really going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why aren’t you flinging your insults at me or gloating about holding all the information?”

“Because I’m not you.” I pushed her aside to open my car door and dumped my backpack into the passenger seat. “Do you have a message you want me to deliver to him?”

She gulped in an uncharacteristic display of vulnerability. I’d known Summer for
years, and ever since sixth grade, she’d fashioned herself into the perfect princess of the popular crowd. But right now, she looked like the girl I’d known in elementary school.

The girl I’d been friends with before she betrayed me.

“Just tell him we miss him and we can’t wait to see him again.” She turned away and practically ran back to the building as though she’d lose popularity points
by hanging out with me any longer.

The momentary shift in Summer’s demeanor troubled me during the entire drive to Brett’s house. Summer had a reputation for manipulating people and twisting the truth. She’d even convinced Brett I’d been the one who betrayed her in sixth grade, not the other way around. Was she trying to do the same with me? Or was she being genuine for once?

Brett was still
in bed like yesterday, half-dozing when I entered the room. He looked up at me with the same glassy eyes as before.

“Still on the pain meds?”

He licked his dry lips and nodded. “Tried to get up and show Mum I was ready to go back to school, but…” His voice trailed off, and his eyelids drooped.

I pulled the chair over to the side of the bed and wrapped my hand around his.

He opened his eyes
long enough to give me a weak smile. “Sorry, Lexi.”

“No need to apologize. I wanted to check in on you. Everyone at school keeps asking about you. Sanchez. Summer.”

He lifted his head and gave me an incredulous look. “They came to you?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t rip them a new one?”

“I was very polite with them. They care about you.” I laced my fingers through his before adding, “I care about
you.”

“Tell them I’m fine.” He plopped back against the pillows and closed his eyes again.

But he wasn’t fine, and I weighed the consequences of covering for him or telling his friends the truth. Option one would help Brett save face, but option two might be necessary if he continued to wallow in the bitter hopelessness he was in now.

Instead, I tried changing the subject. “I finally believe
you about Sanchez. He’s not the one behind the notes in Richard’s locker.”

“Told you so,” he replied, his eyes still closed. “I know you have it out for some of my friends, but they aren’t all evil. Even Summer.”

“You know our history.”

“And I know what she’s going through now. Her parents are divorcing, and she’s caught in the middle.”

I flashed back on what I remembered of Summer’s parents.
Her dad had made billions in the coffee industry by employing ruthless tactics to destroy his competitors. I remembered him once telling Summer, “If you’re not number one, you’re nothing.”

Her mom was the daughter of a wealthy family from Hong Kong who’d made their money in real estate. Spoiled and self-centered, she was one of the women I’d see walking around our local mall with an assistant
behind her carrying her little teacup Yorkie while she shopped in the highest-priced designer stores.

Both of them had money. Both of them were used to getting what they wanted. And both of them were too wrapped up in their own little worlds to consider Summer.

For the first time in years, a shred of pity softened my hatred toward Summer. “What happened?”

“They were both having affairs, but
her mom wants alimony and complete custody, and it’s all a big mess. Summer’s pissed at both of them and refuses to pick sides, but she’s also worried about what’s going to happen to her once the divorce is finalized. Her mom wants to take her to Vancouver to live with her family there, now that they’ve relocated there from Hong Kong. Her dad wants to keep her here. And she’s counting down the days
until her eighteenth birthday so she can do what she wants.”

I started to wonder if pain meds included some sort of truth serum because I was learning more about Summer through Brett than I did from my sister, who was supposedly one of Summer’s closest friends. He was spilling secrets she probably wanted no one to know about, and he was spilling them to me. What else would he say while under
the influence?

What troubled me even more, though, was my reaction to the news of Summer’s woes. A few weeks ago, I would’ve been jumping up and down at learning my arch-nemesis had feet of clay, and I’d be figuring out the best way to use it against her. Now, however, I actually felt sorry for her. Maybe it was because my dad’s advice about walking a mile in someone else’s shoes still lingered
in my subconscious. Maybe it was that brief display of vulnerability I’d glimpsed in the parking lot today. Maybe it was because Brett had somehow managed to soften my hard edges over the last few weeks and taught me the meaning of compassion.

I turned my attention back to Brett and caught him staring at me with a worried expression.

“You aren’t going to broadcast all of this, are you?” he
asked.

“No, so long as you don’t share all of my secrets with the rest of the world.”

“You mean like the part where you’re not as mean as people think you are?” he teased with a sleepy grin.

“Shh! They’re not supposed to know.”

Our fingers had remained threaded together throughout the whole conversation, and he gave my hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry, Batman, your secret is safe with me.”

It
was the same thing he’d said to me weeks ago when he was trying to penetrate my hard shell, and I couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll let you rest.”

I tried to rise, but he tightened his hold on my hand and gave me a wordless plea with his eyes that tore at the center of my chest. He was probably feeling helpless and vulnerable, too. His whole identity as the football star was in jeopardy, and I worried
that he might get so lost in that title that he forgot he was more than Johnny Football Hero.

I leaned forward and kissed him. When I pulled back, some of the doubt had vanished from his eyes. “I’ll come by tomorrow to check in on you.”

“If I’m not back at school by then,” he countered.

Some of the tightness in my chest eased. I was seeing glimpses of the Brett I knew again, and that gave
me hope that he’d spring out of his pain pill–induced funk soon.

Chapter Fifteen

Wednesday morning greeted me with a sight I never thought I’d ever see in the hallways of Eastline High.

Richard and Sanchez laughing over something. Together.

I walked over, telling myself this must be part of some stress-induced nightmare. “Um, Richard, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

I glanced at Sanchez. Two weeks ago, the wide receiver had slammed Richard against
a locker and called him a fag. I’d gotten the whole incident on film, and Sanchez had been suspended for three days. I half-expected the scene to play out again.

Sanchez gave me a smirk, complete with one arched brow. “I’m not going to touch him, or your sister for that matter, so stop looking like you’re going to nail me for something. I’m actually here to offer Richard some protection.”

“Am
I a lucky guy or what?” Richard asked, his voice drifting into the mock-sigh range.

“Not going there.” Sanchez shoved him, but it seemed more like the horseplay guys did with each other than bullying. “I was just telling him that I mentioned the short crossing routes to Coach, and he thought I was a genius.”

“He obviously overestimates your intellect,” I replied, still not quite comfortable
with what I was witnessing.

Sanchez nodded to Richard. “It was his idea, not mine. But since he proved he knew a thing or two about the game, I figured I’d let people know if they fucked with his locker again, they’d have to answer to me. This is my part of the hallway, and I don’t want it trashed.”

He zeroed in on me in a silent challenge. When I didn’t dispute him, he asked, “Brett coming
back today?”

“No idea. He was still pretty out of it yesterday.”

“That sucks.”

As Sanchez walked back to his locker, I kept waiting for someone to snap their fingers or throw back the curtain or jostle me awake from this craziness. “I knew going out with Brett would disrupt the space-time continuum.”

“Just like I knew you two would make the ultimate power couple.” Richard grabbed his books
and closed his locker. “Any news from Morgan?”

I shook my head. “You?”

“Nope, but I’ll try again tonight. By the way, Kelsey missed practice yesterday, too, but she seems to be fine today.”

He gestured down the hallway where the debate team co-captain stood with her group of friends. Her high-pitched laugh grated on my nerves, but I managed to ignore it long enough to check out her posse. If
she wasn’t the one who trashed Richard’s locker yesterday, then chances were good that someone in her group of friends did. All of them were part of that self-righteous, cross-wearing, “I’m better than all of you because I’m best buds with Jesus” group. All of them probably considered Richard to be a deviant who was destroying the moral fabric of this country because he was gay. And a few of them
might have the balls to target him. But which ones?

Kelsey must have spotted Richard because her upper lip curled into a sneer when she looked in our direction. I waited for her to say something to her friends, but she flipped her hair over her shoulder and led them in a handholding prayer right before the bell rang.

Even though the facts so far went against it, my gut told me she was the one
behind the notes in Richard’s locker. But until I had evidence, she’d get away with her hate crime.