Undertow by K.R. Conway (1st book in trilogy)

Chapter 8

Tuesday was destined to suck,mainly because Nikki had yet to retaliate. Surprisingly, however, I hadn't seen the bitter bombshell anywhere. When gym rolled around just before lunch, I was downright giddy.

Walking out to the soccer field, I actually started to believe another day would squeak by without retribution. But once I got onto the field, my scrap of hope was shredded. Nikki, curvy co-captain of the BHS WAVES field hockey squad, was standing mid-field, waiting with her team to play our class.

I always did loathe Tuesdays.

Forty minutes later, my hatred for field hockey was in full bloom, courtesy of Nikki.  Whoever thought it was a good idea to combine Tag with wooden golf clubs and a rodent-size ball should be beaten senseless. 

Attempting to do all three was a bad combination for me, and I ended up tripping one of Nikki's teammates, who took a digger in the dirt. Nikki retuned the favor a few minutes later by "accidentally" knocking me hard into the goal post, face first. 

It was like kissing concrete at a high rate of speed.

The impact nearly knocked me out, and I was sure that I was going to have a permanent indent on the side of my face. 

As we walked back to the locker room, I could hear Nikki laughing with her teammates, no doubt at me. All I wanted was a hot shower and to get through the last two hours of the day without committing a homicide.

In the locker room, my face continued to pound under the shower's warm spray, but I took my time, not wanting to face any of the other girls.  I listened carefully and the voices dwindled until only the sound of the shower echoed in the musty room.

I knew I was going to be late for lunch, but I no longer cared. I simply wanted the water to wash away the day. I started visualizing smacking Nikki repeatedly with the wooden stick, but exhaustion from her constant harassment was starting to take its toll.          

My throat started to tighten, but I fought back the tears, taking slow breaths to quell my mutinous emotions. I turned my face up into the shower stream one last time and reluctantly turned the flow off.

Squeezing out my rope of hair, I pulled the towel off its hook and wrapped it around me. But as I pulled the curtain back, I knew with absolute certainty that Nikki was the Devil. The clothes that I had left so neatly folded on the bench outside the shower, were GONE. I frantically scanned the room, but saw no clothes. Anywhere.

"No! Oh no no no!" I stepped out of the shower and onto the cold concrete floor. I rushed around the room, searching for my missing jeans and top. My steps were leaving a detailed map of wet footprints chronicling my frantic search.

Finally I found them, crumpled and soaked, in the furthest sink. I started ringing them out, my towel providing scant warmth against the chilly locker room. "See Eila," I thought, chastising myself, "This, THIS is why we should never leave our clothes unattended with serial nut jobs lurking!"

As I finished squeezing the last of the water from my jeans, I realized that my gym clothes AND UNDERWEAR were not among the dripping pile. Where I was simply irritated before at being stuck in dirty gym clothes for the remainder of the school day, now I was horrified. I had nothing to wear. AT ALL! I stood there, staring down at my pile of clothes in the creamy sink, debating what to do next.

Did I dare walk out of the room, wrapped in a towel, and try to make it to my locker to get my keys? Then what? Drive home half naked?

I could see myself walking through the sea of students, enduring stares and laughs. I had a nightmarish vision of accidentally dropping my towel as I passed the guidance office.