I opened the front door quietly as I entered my house, and then fell against it once I was inside. It shut behind me with a fairly loud click, and then I sighed as the quietness in the house settled over me.
That was, you know, until my dad popped out from the kitchen archway.
"Are you hungry, brat? Your mom and I were doing a cooking challenge while you were gone and I beat her ass yet again."
I couldn't help the slip of my smile when a recipe book suddenly flew through the archway. My dad threw himself against the wall of the arch, staring at the book with wide eyes when it landed on the floor beside him, missing him by an inch. He relaxed after a short moment and glanced back in the kitchen before turning back to me. "She's taking the loss pretty hard."
"I had this! I put in all of the right ingredients! You must have cheated! You had to have cheated, you piece of sh—oh, hi, honey! How was school?"
I set my bag on the counter in the kitchen, rounding it to see the aftermath of my mother's cooking. I took a piece of chicken that wasn't burnt from her skillet, shrugging as I brought it to my mouth. "School was school," I answered her.
"And how's Katrina? I haven't seen her around lately."
I froze.
My mother was too distracted to notice my reaction as she poked and prodded the chicken in her pan. I couldn't say the same for my dad though. He leaned against the counter beside me and nudged me after a second, obviously curious.
"Uh..." I struggled. For obvious reasons, I didn't feel up to delving into the conversation I'd had earlier with Katrina. But more specifically, I didn't feel up to explaining to my parents that Katrina was cutting off all ties with me while I was with Jesse. "I uh, I haven't really talked to her a lot these past few days."
The sad thing was that it was the truth.
"Why not?" My father. Ever the inquisitive one.
I shrugged again. "I don't know."
A long moment passed, and all the while I could see both him and my mother trying to figure out why. My mom was the first to take a guess - a wrong one that I didn't have the energy to correct. "Don't tell me you like a boy that she likes?"
"Oh." My dad peered around me to look at her. "That one."
My mother paused her chicken inspection to look at him too. "That one?"
"The one that touched her,"—my dad poked a finger at my cheek—"here."
I closed my eyes, embarrassment making my face flush.
I recalled all those mornings ago when Jesse had first succeeded in kissing me—or rather, the first time I'd actually allowed him to succeed. He'd cornered me against his car outside this very house, and when he left, I'd retreated to my own car only to discover that my parents had watched the entire scene play out from the front windows.
My eyes remained closed even as my mother gasped, remembering the kiss just as I had. "What was his name again? Something with a J..."
"James—"
"No, it was Johnny—"
"Jesus Christ."
"That's not right, Carson. I remember his name being Joel—"
"His name is Jesse," I said with a scowl of annoyance.
"Jesse! Yeah, that's right! Yeah...yeah, he drove a car."
"The Camaro," my dad clarified, and then leaned back against the counter, looking lost in thought. "I used to have a car like that, you remember, Reanne?"
"Of course I do," my mother said, discreetly picking out a perfectly cooked piece of chicken from my dad's skillet and bringing it to her mouth. "I especially remember when you used to drive me to that hill in the outskirts of the city to—hey! Where are you going, Carson? Don't you want to find out how your brother was conceived?"
I kicked my bedroom door shut behind me, dropped my things on the floor, and tossed myself on the queen sized bed in front of me. My face pressed into the thick comforter, and I only turned my head to face the opposite side of the room when my breathing started to feel deprived. As I raked my eyes from the computer atop my desk, to the television sitting above my dresser, and to the window that Jesse had once climbed in through, my thoughts traveled back to Katrina and her words.
At first I furrowed my eyebrows and bit my lip from showing how hurt I was that my best friend was avoiding my company because of who I was becoming. It hurt because I wanted to confide in someone. But most of all, it hurt because, just as I was keeping things from her, she seemed to be keeping things from me, also.
What else had she meant with her warning? Who else besides Jesse had the power to play me?
Suddenly, as if I could feel the light bulb clicking on in my head, I pushed up from my position and sat upright on my bed, my eyes widening as I considered that maybe she had meant Kale.
But how could she have? She'd never even had a conversation with him—for God's sake, she hardly remembered his name!
On the off chance that she'd met him without my knowing—which, I honestly, could not imagine happening—could she have implied that Kale and been lying to me this whole time? But about what? He'd seemed sincere when he'd relayed how he'd lost his girlfriend to Jesse, and even if that wasn't true and he just wanted to put an end to a guy who relentlessly corrupted girls, there wasn't really anything he could be lying about that didn't seem so extreme. Unless...
Unless, maybe Kale secretly harbored romantic feelings for Jesse all this time and didn't like seeing him with so many partners.
I smirked, despite myself. That would certainly be an interesting development.
Falling back onto the bed, I closed my eyes and breathed out a long sigh, thinking until late into the night what Katrina could have meant by me being played.
And wondering if it was too late to prevent it.
* * *
The next morning at school, I was a little nervous to discover Jesse missing from his seat in English.
And then I was just a spasm of full blown anxiety when P.E. rolled around and I realized he was absent for the day.
I didn't know what to make of it yet. All of the over thinking I've been doing the past few days were doing a number to my mental health, and I refused to think more on Jesse's actions than I should. All I could narrow his reasons for being absent was that he was either sick or he was avoiding me. I hoped it wasn't the latter; if Kale had been right in assuming Jesse's attitude to my running off with Dalton, then I sure as hell wanted to postpone the backlash for as long as possible.
An angry, annoyed Jesse, I had much experience with. But a jealous one? The last time I encountered that side of him, I got a football to the head and kiss I hadn't anticipated.
Try as I may though, I often found myself falling in and out of attention throughout the day. I was being neurotic and I knew it; I could feel the headache growing and I didn't care. When I wasn't thinking about Jesse during class, I was thinking about Katrina in my free time.
The one time I was thinking of Kale, I was on my way to the restroom after excusing myself during class. I had been so wrapped up in trying to figure out if he could have any ulterior motives or hidden agendas that I hadn't realized I'd stumbled upon a hushed conversation until it was too late.
They were two people, one short in stature and one about the same height I was. At first I thought that they were a teacher and student, but after closer examination, I realized with a start that I recognized the strawberry blonde hair on the taller girl and the reddish brown hair on the other.
It was Farrah and Katrina.
And they hadn't spotted me as I'd thought.
"—did you say?"
"That I'm not talking to her. It's done. I did what you wanted."
I backed up hastily, pressing myself against the wall of the hall adjacent to the one they were standing in so that I was out of sight but not out of earshot.
"And nothing else, right? He's so close now, we can't have any risks."
"We?" Katrina asked. I could imagine the look of aversion on her face. "You never told me what part you have in it."
"That doesn't matter," Farrah said, suddenly on the defensive. "What does is that you keep to your word and stay away."
"So that you and him can have your way? You two are revolting."
"We're doing everyone a favor. One that you've agreed to help out with." There was a long pause, and for a moment I considered moving away to a more secure spot where I would be hidden in case one of them decided to take the hall I was standing in, but then Farrah spoke again, making me stop. "What's revolting right now is Carson, no? How does it feel to be best friends with the new school slut?"
I narrowed my eyes and scowled at the wall across from me. I'll shove you in a toilet you little bitch.
"She isn't a slut."
"She's been with Jesse."
"You don't know that," Katrina countered.
"I know she wants to."
"You don't know anything about Carson, alright?" My heart warmed. No matter that she left me because of my association with Jesse and looked to be secretly plotting with Farrah behind my back, my best friend was still looking out for me. It wasn't much considering the situation, but it was something—I haven't completely lost her. "I'll stay away," Katrina went on. "Just do whatever you guys are planning to do, and do it fast. Before Carson's in too deep."
I heard steps, and I scuttled back, in fear of getting caught eavesdropping before I realized the noise was fading off in the opposite direction.
"We plan on it," I heard Farrah mumble once Katrina was gone.
"Plan on what?" I asked.
I took that moment to make myself known, leaning one shoulder against the wall and watching with dark amusement how Farrah jumped out of her skin and snapped her head around toward me so fast I was sure she popped her neck.
"W—What are you doing here?"
"Restroom." I nodded toward her. Farrah glanced over her shoulder and spotted the doors of the girls' restroom a little ways down the hall. When she turned back to me, she was scowling, obviously regretting holding a private meeting here.
"How much did you hear?" she asked.
I crossed my arms and glared at her. "Everything." The almost went unsaid. If I was correct in following the tactics of all of those CSI shows I used to spend so much time watching, then I'd get farther with gaining information by pretending I already had it.
Judging by how Farrah's eyes remained on my clenched fists and how loudly she swallowed, I must have been right. "You know, I was just kidding about calling you a slut..."
"What were you and Katrina talking about? What are you planning?"
Farrah stared long and hard at me. And then, she lifted her chin and said, "None of your business."
"Bitch," I said, pushing away from the wall and approaching her with long strides. "If you don't tell me what's going on then I'm going to—" My threat was cut off when a door down the hall opened. A girl stepped out of a classroom, a neon green pass in her hands that indicated she was headed to the restroom. She cast Farrah and I one long look before she disappeared. Turning my attention back to Farrah, I lowered my voice and asked, "What's going on?"
"I said it's none of your business."
I paused to examine her face, and then it all started to make sense. "You," I breathed. "Don't tell me Katrina meant you."
Farrah's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"
"You're the one who's planning on playing me? Oh God. That day in detention—you lied, didn't you? You probably never slept with Jesse—that's probably why you avoided the question!"
"I did sleep with him!" Farrah shouted. However, she looked so defensive that I had a hard time believing her. "And you know what? We've been sleeping together for weeks now!"
"You're lying."
"Am I?" Farrah challenged, moving closer to me. "What makes you so sure, Carson?"
I glanced away from the girl in front of me to see a small crowd of onlookers gathering down the hall. "I'm not sure."
"Because you don't trust him, do you?" I looked back to Farrah. "I told you that you're just a challenge to him. Who's to say he didn't tell me that during the party? Think about it. What he's not getting from you, he's getting from someone else. Me."
I could feel that she was egging me on, trying to get a reaction out of me. And despite my better judgment, she was. I could feel the sharp pains in my stomach and the quickening of my heart beating against my chest at the thought of her and Jesse together. I shook my head, out of denial or to get her voice out of my mind, I didn't know yet.
"I heard about what happened yesterday, too," Farrah went on. "How you left him for that senior. And has Jesse talked to you since then? He talked to me. Goes to show how much of a priority you are."
"Stop it. You're lying."
"You have no way to know."
The crowd in the hallway was growing. I suspected it was because the bell was about to ring and they were students who had been released several minutes early. I also suspected they only stopped to watch Farrah and I because they sensed the tension in the air and were waiting to see if a fight broke out. A few people held up phones just in case, ready to record the action.
I lowered my voice even more. "You're lying," I said again.
"You're so far gone, you don't even know it," Farrah spat. "You don't even see it, do you? The denial? You want to trust him but you know you shouldn't. You're falling for him. And you're questioning every little thing he does because you're wondering if he's falling for you too. Well, guess what? He's not. You're no different the rest of the girls he's been with. The sooner you understand that, the better. He's just waiting for you stop being such a prude and get you into his bed so that he can go on and—"
It seemed to possess me. The curious, pitying looks the students were giving me when they started to understand what the argument was about. Farrah's words, wrapping around my heart like a vise. Flashes of Jesse's face. Flashes of Katrina's smile. My self control hindered with every image—with every word being thrown at me, and when the bell rang throughout the hall, it was like an indication that it had finally run out.
I punched Farrah.
It didn't seem to occur to me that I had done it until she stumbled back from the blow and landed hard on the floor, clutching at her nose. As soon as my mind caught up to my body's actions, my jaw instantly went slack and my eyes flicked back and forth from her bleeding nose to my throbbing fist.
"What's going on here?" a voice boomed, silencing the shouts of the students gathering in the hall.
I looked up to see the school principal emerging from the large crowd of students with a pair of security officers flanking him on either side. Tall and imposing, it took him little to no trouble spotting Farrah whimpering on the floor. After looking at her, his, as well as the rest of the crowd's, accusing eyes rested on me and my upraised fist for answers.
"Oh."
Shit.