For the Win (Playing for Keeps Book 1) (8 page)

London

On Monday the Gold Rush Gazette came out. It was always exciting for me when an edition of the paper circulated. I knew the rest of the school didn’t give a rat’s ass. The teachers passed them out in homeroom, and by second period I would find them littering the school hallways and trash bins. The faculty had been trying to talk Mr. Smith into making the editions paperless for the past couple of years. We’d fought them on it, and so far we’d won. But every time I saw the papers strewn around campus I knew we’d end up losing at some point. The thought of our paper only being available online worried me. I liked the feeling of the paper in my hands, I liked seeing Dad tack it to the fridge. But mostly, I knew that once it was online no one would ever read it. I suspected there were some students who read it for no other reason than that we passed it out and they were bored. But if they had to go on the website on their own time that would never happen.

Before leaving homeroom, I picked up a couple extra copies to bring home. Pressing them to my chest, I stepped out of the classroom. I was no longer limping today. In fact, I’d ridden my bike this morning. My ankle still hurt a little, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The hallway was filled with students. Chatter and laughter encompassed me, the scent of deodorant, hairspray and perfume overwhelming. My skin crawled as I pushed past backpacks, elbows, and flailing arms. I was not fond of crowds. When I graduated sixth grade, Dad thought a trip to Disneyland would be a fun reward. And it should have been. Most kid love Disneyland. I mean, it’s the happiest place on earth, right? But for me, it wasn’t. I spent two grueling days fighting off panic attacks and fear. There was nowhere I could go to get away from the crowds of people. We actually had a three-day pass, but we left before the third day. And I was grateful. I wasn’t sure I’d survive it any longer. Even now when I thought about it, my pulse spiked, and breathing became difficult.

A shoulder rammed into mine, my skin smarting. Reaching down, I rubbed my hand over it. But then I got slammed from the other side.
What the hell?
Losing my grip on the newspapers, I opened up my fingers and they slid from my hands, fluttering to the floor, graceful like birds. They landed flat out, the article about Cooper staring up at me. His smile and bright eyes mocked me from where the picture lie on the scuffed linoleum.

“Oops, sorry.” I recognized Calista’s voice immediately. “Here. Let me help you.” She bent over to pick up the papers off the ground.

I stood frozen, surprised by her offer. When I glanced around the hallway I saw others looking on curiously. A funny feeling descended in the pit of my stomach. What was she up to? She wore a sweet smile when she stood, thrusting the papers toward me. Tentatively, I clamped my fingers around them. A hand touched my back, and I flinched.

“Oh, so jumpy.” Calista said, her hand resting on my back.

Wriggling, I moved away from her. A clicking sound caught my attention. “What was that?” I whipped around. A few of her friends stood just feet away, guilty expressions cloaking their faces. Calista giggled.

Now I knew something was going on. Biting my lip, I gripped tightly to the newspaper, my gaze shifting around the hallway.

Before walking away, Calista leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “It was a valiant effort, but you had to know you couldn’t keep a guy like Cooper interested in a girl like you for very long.” She winked. “He was at my house on Friday night, and from what I could see he wasn’t thinking about you at all.”

My heart pounded in my chest when she stalked off with her friends, her laughter trailing behind her like a kite. Had Cooper really been with her on Friday night? It seemed so odd after the way he’d treated her on Thursday. Then again, it confirmed my suspicions about him. Hadn’t I pegged him as a charmer and a user?  No matter how kind and genuine he acted, I had seen right through him.

And it wasn’t like we were friends or anything. We talked a couple of times. That was it. Nothing more. Nothing less. And now that the article was out and my ankle was healed, we’d never have to talk again. Sadness swept over me at the thought, but I shook it away.

Swallowing hard, I held my head high and took deliberate steps to class. By the time I reached it, the ink from the paper had seeped into the moist skin of my palms. My nerves rattled when I walked into the classroom and found my seat. After peeling the papers from my hands, I set them on the desk, dropped my backpack on the floor and sat down. Black ink dotted my skin, so I wiped my palms on my jeans.

Low giggles erupted behind me and then rolled through the room, like waves in the ocean. The sound would crescendo and then die down, only to peak again a second later. When I turned to see what was funny, all eyes were turned to me. Frantically, I glanced down at my clothes and hands. Had I gotten ink all over myself? But I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, just a couple black spots from where I wiped my hands.
Uh-oh.
Did I touch my face?

The bell rang and Mrs. Henley stood from her desk. The giggling died down a little, but I could still hear it. It burned my ears and poisoned my thoughts. Reaching in my pocket, I tugged out my phone. After turning on the camera, I pressed the button so it would face me as if I was going to take a selfie, which I wasn’t. Definitely not. I had no idea how to take a decent one. Skyler had perfected the art of the selfie, able to capture shots of herself that looked like they belonged in a magazine. The few times I’d tried, I resembled Jabba the Hutt, complete with neck rolls and a double chin. It was strange because I didn’t even have those in real life.
Go figure
. But the camera did serve as a nice mirror when I needed one, which I did now. After inspecting my face, I surmised that I was not covered in ink. So what was everyone laughing about?

Mrs. Henley picked up her paperback copy of
The Great Gatsby
and held it up. Ignoring the funny feeling in the pit of my stomach and the light giggling in the background, I fished in my backpack for my copy of the book. When my fingers lighted on it, I yanked it out. It was tattered on the edges, its pages crinkled from years of use. This wasn’t my first time reading the book. I was always several years ahead on our school reading lists. But I didn’t mind. I liked re-reading books. I found that it gave me a better understanding, and I always learned new things in each reading. Novels were like that. There was so much to a story, so many nuances in the pages, so many hidden treasures, and a reader missed them if they only read the book one time.

“Nick Carraway, by his own admission, is an honest man. Do you think this is a correct assessment?” Mrs. Henley asked.

Glancing around, I waited for someone to raise their hand, but no one did. Mrs. Henley scoured the classroom, her gaze sweeping us. I slid lower in my chair when her eyes rested on me. It’s not that I didn’t have an answer, it’s that I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. Especially not today when everyone was already laughing at me.

“London, what do you think?”

Sitting up straighter, I took a deep breath and summoned up my courage. Lifting my chin, I said, “I don’t think so. He stands by and watches all the deception around him and does nothing to stop it. In fact, in some instances he’s an accomplice to the affairs and lies. I think standing idly by is just as bad as being the one doing the deceiving.” My gaze shifted around the room at my fellow students. People I’d gone to school with for years. Not all of them had teased me, not all of them had bullied me. However, none of them had stuck up for me or helped me.

“Interesting assessment. Thank you, London,” Mrs. Henley said. “There are many rumors surrounding Jay Gatsby. The fact that he neither confirms nor denies them, do you think this is a form of deception as well?”

Mrs. Henley called on a girl in the front row.

“Yes,” the girl said.

“Really? Even though he’s not the one spreading the rumors?” Mrs. Henley challenged her.

The girl shifted in her seat, as if re-thinking her answer. But I knew the girl’s first answer was right. She shouldn’t waffle. Gatsby was deceptive in allowing people to believe the rumors. In fact, I think he liked it. He liked being illusive, a mystery. In some ways I understood that about him. Sometimes the hardest person in the world to be is yourself.

After class, the giggling started back up again. This time it was in the hallway. People pointed and stared, chuckling.
What the hell?
  Craning my neck, I tried to look at my back, but couldn’t see anything. My cheeks hot, I lowered my head and hurried down the hall. I needed to get into a bathroom and find out what was wrong. As I walked swiftly, not looking at anyone, I remembered Calista touching my back. Pulse racing, I reached with my arm and felt the area where Calista had her hand. Sure enough, my fingers brushed over the edge of something sharp and thin. I tugged on it, and it came loose.
A post-it note
. Holding it between my fingers, I read the word scrawled in permanent marker.

SLUT

Very clever.
Snorting, I crumpled it up and fisted it in my palm. Well, at least it was over now. I hoped everyone had a good laugh. Seething with anger, I stalked forward, my feet clicking on the slick floors. Snickering bounced around me like a beach ball being tossed at the beach. Reaching behind me, I grappled around my back looking for more post-its, but didn’t feel any. Why were people still laughing?

“London.” My head snapped up at Cooper’s voice. “You okay?”

Confused, I stared up at his worried expression. What did he know?

He was at my house on Friday night.
Calista’s words sparked in my mind.

I stared at the yellow balled up paper in my hand.
Slut.
What an odd word to describe me. I was pretty sure in order to be a slut you’d have to do more than just read about sex. I’d never even kissed a boy, much less hooked up with one. So why would Calista think I was a slut?

When I glanced back up at Cooper I saw Gatsby. I saw deception and lies. And I didn’t know what to think or who to believe anymore. I’d been bullied and picked on for years, but this felt different. It felt personal. And I knew that part of it was my fault. I’d allowed myself to feel something for Cooper that I shouldn’t have.

“I have to go.” It was lunch period and usually I sat with Skyler in the quad. Pushing past him, I went in search of her.

“London, wait.” Cooper’s hand clamped around my wrist.

I stiffened. “Let go.”

“Please. I want to talk to you.”

“About what?” I knew I should walk away, but curiosity kept me from moving.

“I don’t know how she got the pictures, but I never told her anything was going on between us.”

His words confused me. “Of course, because there
isn’t
anything going on between us.” I wriggled out of his grasp, and he released me. “Wait. What pictures?”

“You haven’t seen them?”

“No.” I shook my head, dread sinking into my gut.

“Don’t you have Snap-It and Share-It?”

I shook my head. “All I know is that Calista stuck this to my back earlier.” Unrolling my fingers, I exposed the crumpled post-it.

Cooper plucked it out of my palm and opened it up. Darkness flickered in his eyes, and his mouth pressed into a tight line. With his free hand, he shoved his fingers into the pocket of his jeans and extracted his cell phone. After typing in a few keys, he held it up for me to see.

My stomach plummeted as I took in the pictures posted on the Snap-It and Share-It site. One was of my back, the word slut taped to my shoulder. In the next one Cooper was walking me to class, holding my backpack, and in the other we were talking behind the bleachers. Only with the bleachers obscuring us, it appeared that we were doing more than talking. My stomach tightened. Below all the pictures the caption read: She acts like a good girl, but only Cooper knows how nasty she can be. Too bad she’s still hung up on him since he’s clearly moved on. Nerdgirl didn’t realize she was just another notch in his belt.

The next picture was of Cooper and some girl kissing. She wore a tight shirt and tiny denim skirt. Her hands were up his shirt, and his fingers were tangled in her hair. I turned away, feeling sickened. Shoving the phone toward Cooper, I backed away from him.

“I’m really sorry,” Cooper said, his eyes pleading with mine. 

Without responding, I spun around and raced down the hallway. I knew it was a mistake to trust Cooper. From the minute he pulled over to help me, I suspected it was all some sort of game. The only reason I fell for his smooth lines and kind smile was because I desperately wanted to believe that he was a good guy, and that maybe, just maybe, he genuinely liked me. But I guess I’d been wrong.

I spent the rest of lunch period sitting alone on the floor in a back corner of the library, hidden behind a large bookshelf. The carpet was rough and smelled like feet. Still, it was better than being at the mercy of everyone out there. I’d never allowed them to see me crumble. I always stayed strong, but today I was worried I might lose it. And that was something I couldn’t let happen. A few minutes before the bell rang, Skyler’s head peeked around the corner.

“There you are.” She let out a relieved sigh. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”