Life Unaware (Entangled Teen) (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

The limo stopped in front of the high school. A moment later the chauffeur pulled our door open and offered his hand. I pointed a finger at him as I climbed out of the car. “Don’t go anywhere. I won’t be long.” I had no intention of lingering inside a gymnasium full of balloons, crepe paper, and formal wear when I still wore my breeches and riding boots. Still, curiosity steeped inside my mind like tea, and I wasn’t about to leave until I had the answers I sought.

He gave a curt nod. “Yes ma’am. I’ll stay parked out front.”

Payton climbed out of the limo after me and grabbed my arm. “Ready?”

Am I?
Ribbons of anxiety threaded through my ribs. What waited for me inside?

Payton removed a small square of card stock from her clutch with the words “Saint Mary’s Snowflake Ball” printed on the front.

I sucked in a breath when I realized this whole venture was for nothing. “I can’t get in. I never bought a ticket.”

Payton laughed. “Trust me when I say no one will care.”

I frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means we’re late.” She tugged my arm. “Come on.”

She led me along the sidewalk, past the front school entrance, around the side of the main building to the double glass doors of the gymnasium. A news van was parked on the sidewalk with its antenna extended. Several girls with curled hair and sequined dresses clustered by the front entrance talking and laughing.

A nauseous wave crashed through my stomach. I pulled free from Payton’s grip and prayed I wouldn’t hurl on the sidewalk.

She stopped, her lips pinched in a frown. “What’s up?”

I wrapped an arm around my queasy gut. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” Inside the building before me were hundreds of students—students who’d seen the video, who knew the things I’d done. Bile burned up my throat. “I can’t—I just can’t.”

“Regan.” She held a hand out to me. “I’ll be with you. Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

“I’m sorry, Pay.” I shook my head and took several steps backward. “I just can’t.”

“Hey, Regan,” one of the girls called out to me.

I froze. So much for my getaway. My muscles tensed and I waited for their insults.

Juliette, a short brunette sophomore wearing a blue satin dress, ran up to me. “Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re here. How are you doing? Everyone’s been so worried about you.”

Two other girls in her group jogged to join us while a third, who obviously wasn’t as practiced walking in heels, wobbled precariously. She teetered to the side and caught herself by grasping on to the arm of the girl beside her.

“Yeah,” Mindy, a junior I recognized from the pom squad, agreed. “We think your project is amazing. I mean, I know it won’t last forever, but the way people have been treating each other is awesome. I actually look forward to coming to school now.”

The other girls voiced their agreement.

Confusion rolled through me. I searched Payton’s face, to see if this was some kind of joke. She only smiled and shrugged.

“I really love your outfit,” the girl who couldn’t walk in heels added. “It’s so unique—so
you.
” The three girls with her nodded their heads, making them look like a cluster of bobbleheads.

“I know.” Mindy clapped her hands together. “I’m going to write that down.”

“Ooh, great idea,” Sarah said. Before I could ask them what they were talking about, they scampered off toward the gymnasium.

I turned to Payton. “What is going on?” I’d expected dirty looks and insults, not…whatever the hell that was.

She laughed as she waved me toward her. “Come on.”

Reluctantly, I followed her through the double doors into the wide space outside the gymnasium. The dance committee had a folding table set up next to a Pepsi vending machine. Two bored-looking freshman boys sat behind it wearing white dress shirts and loose-fitting ties. They took tickets from a short line of couples waiting to enter the gymnasium.

“I don’t have a ticket,” I reminded Payton as the line progressed.

She waved a hand dismissively. The couple in front of us handed their tickets over and we moved to the front of the table. “Here’s my ticket.” Payton set her ticket on the table. “And this is Regan Flay. She doesn’t need a ticket,
obviously.
”

Both boys jerked upright. “Of course not,” the one on the left said. “Go right in. Everyone’s waiting for her.”

I frowned. “Why are people waiting for me?”

Payton snagged my arm and pulled me away from the table before they could answer. “Got that pen ready?”

I touched the Sharpie I’d clipped to my shirt collar—riding breeches didn’t exactly have room for pockets. “Why? What’s going on?”

A couple who’d been sharing a soda by the door smiled at me. “Good to see you, Regan.” The guy tipped the soda can in greeting as I passed by.

I pressed closer to Payton. All this niceness after the weeks of bullying was really starting to freak me out. Had the school been taken over by aliens while I was gone? Or maybe this entire thing was a setup to get me onstage so they could pour blood over my head
à
la
Carrie
. I shuddered.

“Will you stop freaking out?” Payton whispered in my ear. “Everything is going to be fine. I promise.” She stopped in front of the open gymnasium doors. The lights were dim and a dance mix blared from a DJ booth onstage. Throngs of students thrashed together in the middle of the basketball court in a massive sequin-covered mass. “Ready?”

Ice flooded my veins. “No.”

“Too bad.” She pushed me inside.

I squinted, trying to adjust my eyes to the disco lighting that hung from the ceiling and flashed a rainbow of colored lights and lasers onto the floor.

“It’s Regan,” came a voice from behind me.

“She’s here,” another said.

“Stop the music.” Several others issued the command until, a minute later, the music was cut off and the gymnasium lights flashed on. The dancers stopped moving, staring confusedly at one another until gradually their gazes turned to me. A low murmuring rumbled through the crowd.

Shit.
My heart beat rapidly and a trickle of sweat wove down my spine. What had I just walked into? I took a step back only to collide into Payton.

“Regan. Honey. Over here.”

I whipped my head in the direction of the familiar voice. My father stood beside Mrs. Lochte and Principal McDill. All of them smiled warmly and raised their glasses of punch.

“Welcome back,” Principal McDill said. “We’re all so very proud of you.”

I waved my fingers as a nervous flutter spread through my stomach. A million questions surged through my mind. Why was she proud? Why was everyone staring at me? And what on earth was Dad doing here?

I moved to ask him when I realized he wasn’t the only one.

Several feet away, a reporter held a microphone to my mother. I edged my way closer. Maybe if I could listen in on her interview I could get some idea of what was going on? Before I reached her, someone stepped in front of me, blocking my path. Christy’s hair was pinned to the side of her head, and she wore a long burgundy gown. Unlike everyone else around me, she wasn’t smiling.

I took a cautious step back. Of all the people who hated me, Christy had the most right to. After all, if it weren’t for the video I took, her girlfriend might not have tried to kill herself. I bit my lip and waited for whatever attack she had planned—it wasn’t like I didn’t deserve it.

Payton stepped up beside me and gave a reassuring smile. Warmth bubbled through my chest and I smiled back. At least I wouldn’t have to face Christy alone.

“I know you weren’t responsible for the video being shown,” Christy said.

I blinked. That wasn’t the reaction I’d expected.

“I also know Blake was the one who sent notes to each of us to get us all in the locker room at the same time,” Christy continued. “She used to show up to the same LGBT support group I attend. I guess she somehow figured out who I was seeing and decided to use you to expose Amber.”

My throat tightened at the mention on her name. “How is Amber?”

Christy gave a weak smile. “A lot better. Even though being forced out isn’t the way for anyone to come out, I think she’s relieved that people know. Her parents were actually pretty cool about the whole thing.” She bit her lip. “I know a lot of hurt passed between you two, so Amber might never thank you and Nolan for saving her life.” She reached for my hand and squeezed it. “But I will. Thank you.”

I wanted to say something back, but the words tangled into a knot inside my throat.

Christy released my hand. “I expected this really huge backlash after people found out about me, but I’ve received nothing but support. I know a large part of that is due to your project. It’s had a really huge impact on the school—everyone thinks so.”

I glanced over my shoulder to find the motionless dancers still staring at me. They were waiting for something—I just had no idea what. “Um…I wish I could take credit for that but…”

Christy’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, that’s right. You haven’t seen it yet. Come on.” She started toward the crowd of dancers and motioned me to follow.

“Go on,” Payton urged before giving me a little push.

“Uh, okay.” I forced myself to take slow, even steps forward. When I reached the edge of the crowd, the dancers parted, making a path for me to pass through. I swallowed hard and rubbed my damp palms along my pants. Once I stepped forward I’d be surrounded, giving them the perfect opportunity to pelt me with dog food, pig blood, or worse. Still, I wouldn’t run. If they wanted revenge for all the pain I’d caused, I’d let them have it. I closed my eyes and stepped forward.

Time to face karma, Regan.

After several steps, when nothing hit me, I opened my eyes. A girl next to me in a floor-length gown started clapping. The guy beside her hooted. He was followed by several more shouts and whistles until the entire gymnasium was filled with thunderous cheers.

My breath caught in my throat. What the hell was going on? My heart raced to match the pace of the growing noise. The sound of it echoed off the ceiling and shook the stacks of bleachers pushed flat against the walls. I continued walking until I emerged from the crowd on the other side of the gymnasium where a row of what appeared to be bathroom stalls stretched across the entire length of the room.

I jerked to a halt. “What the—”

A hand clasped my shoulder. “Pick one,” Payton screamed, her voice barely audible over the roar of noise.

“But…that’s disgusting.” I looked back at the stalls. “You want me to use the bathroom in
public
?”

She laughed. “It’s not what you think. Just
go.
”

So was this part of the plan? Lock me inside a bathroom stall and pour shit on me? Would they really do something like that with the media, teachers, and my parents watching? I guessed there was only one way to find out.

I picked the bathroom stall directly in front of me and tested the door to find it unlocked.

“Don’t forget your pen,” Payton called.

Without turning around, I lifted the Sharpie in the air and pushed inside the stall, letting the door swing shut behind me. The clapping ceased and music started back up.

I took a moment to examine my surroundings. At a glance, it appeared to be a regular bathroom stall, except a folding chair had replaced the toilet. I snapped the lock closed and sat on the edge of the chair.
Okay. Now what?
Just like the school locker room, the inside of this stall was covered in handwritten graffiti. I glanced at the Sharpie in my hand. Was I supposed to add to it?

I leaned forward and read some of the things written.

Jasmine Walker has a beautiful smile.

Peter Doyle is really good at chemistry, and it’s awesome how he’s willing to tutor people for free.

Olivia Stout is an amazeballs volleyball player. I just know she’s going to get a scholarship.

I placed a trembling hand over my mouth as I continued reading the graffiti. Sure, there was still the occasional “I love so-and-so” but unlike most bathroom stalls, there were no notes calling people bitches, sluts, or whores. Each comment written had been meant to uplift instead of tear down. Even more amazing was the fact that there were at least a thousand comments in this stall alone. I couldn’t imagine how many more were written on the walls of the surrounding stalls.

The memory of the day Nolan met me at the barn pushed to the front of my mind. We’d been standing so close, me in my dirty breeches, him holding a pink helmet.
Don’t you think it’s sad some people are only remembered by the graffiti about them on the bathroom stalls?
I’d asked.

But this—there was nothing sad about this. This was how people deserved to be remembered, for the good instead of the bad. Unlike the stalls in the old wing covered in venom, these stalls presented possibility—a chance that we as a school could change not only the way we treat one another, but maybe even the way future classes would treat themselves. These stalls were a promise from every student here that when we graduated, the hope we left behind us would far outweigh the hate.

I placed a hand over my mouth to smother the strangled sob rising inside my throat. I had no idea that when I set out to change myself, I’d started a ripple effect that would change the entire school along with me. And I didn’t do it alone. Nolan had somehow tapped into my mind, taken the moment I’d scribbled out “Delaney Hinkler is a fucking whore” and written in “Christy Holder is fucking awesome,” and turned it into
this.

Regardless of my attempt to blink them away, tears spilled down my cheeks. Nolan had done this—lobbied for permission, arranged for pickup and placement of the stalls, and gathered the support and participation of the entire school.

Sure, he’d hurt me. He’d lied to me. But he’d also arranged all
this.
And that had to count for something. With trembling fingers, I pulled the cap off the Sharpie and touched it to a small blank patch on the wall.

Nolan Letner is