Conceited and Cruel

T W E N T Y - E I G H T

The door swings open and in steps Hana. She takes one look at me, twists her lips to the side, and enters a stall.

     I start to wash my face off, disgusted with myself. I'm so stupid. Elijah probably only sees me as a pretty girl who's new to town and not the same ol' same ol'. It's as Marilyn said, the guys in this little town are bored of the same girls they've known their entire lives. I'm just a new girl. Someone who sparks his interest because he's never met me before.

    When I finish, I rip a paper towel away from the roll and dry my face and hands off, ready to brave my new friends and their unnerving conversations. I stride back to our table and almost plop down in my seat. But then I notice something, about a yard from the actual table I sit at every day.

     Stacy is sitting in my seat. She and Darren are laughing, talking, as Corey plays on his phone, and Trace and Raleigh copy Darren and Stacy. She leans close to him, says something funny. He tosses his head back, golden curls soaring. I keep my jaw set, try to steady my wavering lip. Then I hear it. The soft, barely heard message in the loud lunchroom.

    "You're funny, Sperry's."

    Darren's face falls, he inches back. Stacy, sensing something as wrong, looks down, embarrassed. Only to have Corey look up and see her and Darren's awkward positioning. He walks over to the other side of the table to sit down next to Stacy and pull her into his side. Darren looks over his shoulder, casts a wary look to me, knowing that I heard.

     I gulp, wanting so bad to turn around and go back to the bathroom when a hand grips mine. "Hey, Tara!" I turn, recognizing the lilting soft voice.

    Elijah.

    "Come over and sit down with us!" He invites, gesturing to the soccer table. I nod, smile, and sit where he tells me to -- right next to him.

    Completely ignoring what I know to be true.

     Completely ignoring the fact that he is just glad to see a girl he's never met.

    I laugh and talk with Elijah the rest of lunch, introducing myself to his soccer friends. So much for laying low.

    When the bell rings, Elijah walks with me to the trashcans, offers to throw away my stuff for me, and follows me to the door of the lunchroom. We're practically the only people left, with the exception of two or three others. Elijah brushes his hair out of his eyes, says bye, and jogs down the 300 hall to get to his next class.

     I'm just about to push my way through the doors, a girl around my height with bleached blonde hair exiting beside me, when a hand grasps my wrist and pulls me aside. I look up, gasping from the unexpected turn of events, into the hazel-eyed gaze of Raleigh's very own Trace.

"I know." He says, nails digging into my flesh. I bite my lip in pain. "I know who you were, Tara."

I wrench away from him, twisting my face into a scowl. "I've not a clue what you're talking about."

"Look," Trace slams me into the wall, flips his hair out of his eyes and gazes hard at me. "I'm not trying to hurt you or threaten you. It's not what it looks like. I'm just saying, Tara--" he swallows hard, casts a glance down. "Elijah and I are real good friends."

"I know," I say, rolling my eyes. I just want to get to class and this idiot is blocking my way.

Trace raises a single brow and leans closer to me. "We've known each other for ages, Tara. Don't you dare hurt him like Marilyn did. I know your past. With your old school, Westbrook, and Darren Williams, the newbie. It's easy to tell."