Blackmail
Chapter One-
It’s Better Than Revenge
“Get in.”
I’m forcefully shoved into the rectangular depths, my elbows jabbing into my sides at the confined space. The back of my head slams against the metal wall behind me, the reverberating noise echoing achingly in my skull.
“See you later!” The high-pitched tone reaches an octave heard only by canines as she and her mindless minions cackle. They call me a few choice names unrepeatable in my grandmother’s presence and then their ridiculously high heels click away.
“Well,” I mumble to myself, my voice sounding funny to my own ears in the restricted space. “This is uncomfortable.”
I shimmy my shoulders, trying to get into a more pleasant position. I’ve just found the perfect pose (knees slightly bent, fingers tucked into my hips, forehead resting against the cold door) when said door is thrown open. I fly forward, arms flailing, and squint at the sudden light. Someone catches me under the arms, stopping my ungraceful fall.
“You seriously let them do it again?” The person rights me, making sure I’m steady on my feet before their touch leaves my shoulders. “You’re like some walking nerd cliché. Let me go get the inhaler and you’ll be set.”
“Ha ha,” I say, brushing myself off and fixing my glasses. “I’ll have you know that it’s not so bad.”
“Right.” Peter rolls his eyes. “Being shoved into a locker every day before fifth period is just fine and dandy.”
“You get used to it,” I explain, running my fingers through my long brown hair to get out the knots. “Plus, someday I’ll be big and successful and they’ll be--”
“They’ll be living off Daddy’s money,” Peter interrupts.
“Whatever,” I say, slightly disappointed that he’s right. Melissa and her mindless minions are set for life with their parents’ deep pockets, while us little people flounder about in the real world.
“But seriously, Fin, are you alright?” Peter’s warm brown eyes flutter over my body, checking for any injuries.
“I’m fine.” I gently shove him away with one hand. “No lasting casualties.”
“Good.” Peter crosses his arms, his boy-next-door face scrunching in disapproval. “Then what were you thinking roaming the halls alone? You know Melissa targets these moments!”
A glance around the halls will tell you I’m anything but alone. Yet, I’m also the school nerd. Combine that with Melissa’s social standing, and the kids roaming this corridor might as well be fake plants for all the good they do.
“I know.” I sigh, reaching around Peter to grab my books from my locker. One that fell on the floor has a footprint across its cover from my standing on it. Stupid Melissa. “But I forgot my literature book and that’s my next class.”
“Of course it is,” Peter says, still sounding censorious. He’s like some older brother I never wanted. “Want me to walk you there?”
“That’s alright,” I decline, smiling at my floppy-haired friend. “Melissa never strikes more than once a day. Plus, this is my last class. So I think I’m in the clear.”
Peter shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re so high-maintenance.”
“Yup,” I chirp, making him grin.
He sends me one last slightly worrying look before loping down the hall and out of sight. I release a breath at his exit and shove my literature book into my backpack with somewhat trembling hands. I loop my bag over my shoulder and begin the small, familiar trek to my English classroom.
I guess it was all my fault for being alone. It’s just, I had a few extra minutes and I couldn’t show up to class unprepared. I didn’t expect Melissa to be waiting for me and to shove me in my own locker. It isn’t exactly a normal torture method. Though, nothing about Melissa is normal. She’s tormented me from the first day of sophomore year, when I transferred here because my family moved school districts. And now, more than a year later, she’s still at it. Dumping disgusting school lunches on me, calling me names behind my back (and to my face), and just being the regular equivalent of a female dog.
What did I ever do to her?
I’m so absorbed in my musings that I fail to realize I’m heading to the wrong door. I turn the knob –a fleeting thought entering my mind about the door being oddly closed –and step inside.
I recognize my mistake at once, of course. The large globe sitting on a table or the world maps on the wall are a clear indication this isn’t English. But this registers only in the back of my mind. What’s in the forefront is the scene before me.
Liam Burke, school hottie and star quarterback, has Miss King pressed against the wall in a fierce kiss.
