"Oh my god, I think that's her."
"Her who?"
"The one everyone is talking about. The STD girl."
Arianne wished she could pull the brim of her hat to her chin so it would swallow her whole. Instead, she quickened down the hallway, angling her head down so on-comers would see the Eason logo embroidered on the cap and not her face which was undoubtedly pinched in pain. She could almost hear her mother scolding her.
"Stop looking like you sucked on a lemon, Arianne. It'll give you wrinkles."
Even a thousand miles away, the woman wouldn't let her be. Arianne wondered how she was faring. Most likely still miserable, still caught in a love-hate relationship with her father. And even though she resented her mother, hated the things she'd done, Arianne would have given anything at that moment to feel her mother's arms around her. To let down her guard and have someone else shoulder the pain.
Her mother would do it too. As messed up as she was, she wouldn't deny her daughter that small comfort. The same couldn't be said for her father, however. Her nose stung as a burning ache started deep in her gut. She wanted, no, needed something familiar. Something tangible. Something from home.
Before she could think too hard, she pulled out her phone and dialed her dad's cell. It went straight to voicemail. She hung up and called his office. After three rings, Beth Anne, the company's office manager, picked up.
"Hi Beth Anne, it's Arianne," she said in a halting tone. Beth Anne was not her biggest fan. Her younger sister, Sara, had been dating Chase before dumping her to date Arianne. Beth Anne and Sarah had accused her of leading him astray. Please. As if she'd hand delivered Chase to her mom. "Is my dad around?"
A reluctant pause. "I think he went out."
"Can you check? I really need to talk to him." She added a sweet, "Please," when Beth Anne continued to hesitate.
"Okay, hold on." A muffled sound like her hand was over the receiver, then a soft knock. "Sir? It's your daughter."
So he was there. Arianne's chest puffed in anger as she tried not to be offended, but damn, it was hard. Beth Anne had no right to keep her from her father.
"Tell her I'm not here." His gruff voice knocked the wind out of her lungs. She thought he'd at least say hi before brushing her off. Beth Anne must not have left because moments later, her dad barked, "What is it?"
Beth Anne's voice held a note of censure. "I think it's about something important."
"Probably money," he muttered. "Tell her to email Lund the amount. I'll approve it." He acted as if she was a spoiled child needing to be pacified.
She could hear the door shutting and Beth Anne returning to her seat. "Arianne—" she started with a note of pity.
"Don't bother. I heard." She hung up as Beth Ann sputtered out excuses. It was rude, but she wasn't feeling particularly courteous at the moment.
She prowled out of the building, pressure mounting in her chest. She should have known better. Stubbornness flowed through his veins like vodka flowed through her mother's. If only he'd bend a little. See that forgiveness wasn't a sign of weakness, wasn't an attack on his character.
Arianne stomped on a leaf, grinding it into dust. She felt a weird sort of satisfaction out of it, so she did it to another, and then another. She was so caught up in her own little stomping world she didn't notice the attention she'd garnered until she saw Harmony giving her the side-eye. Reality came crashing down in a tidal wave as their gazes locked, but Arianne held her ground. She was tired of being cowed by people who had no idea about the hardships she was going through. If they did, they wouldn't mock her or stare as if she was a freak in a circus show.
To her credit, Harmony ducked her head and looked away but not before Arianne caught a hint of remorse. Good. She should feel bad. However, any smugness Arianne had fled as she watched a group of girls wave Harmony over. The easy-going smiles and affectionate camaraderie emphasized the cold, friendless hole in her own life. She had Morgan, of course, but she was selfish. She wanted more. She wanted a core group of friends to call her own.
Jealous, she looked past them to the administration building. Ugh. Everywhere she turned, she was reminded of the ugly truth. She would never fit in at Eason. Maybe she should leave. Transfer to a new school where she could remain anonymous.
Suddenly, the weight of the word pressed down on her until she thought she was going to explode. She needed to talk to someone. Let it all out, so she did something she swore she would never do. Stepping back into the building and into an empty classroom, she called her mom.
Please, don't be drunk. Please, don't be drunk. Arianne didn't know if she could handle more signs of how low her family had sunk. Not today.
"Ari," her mother answered with a hint of surprise. "Is everything alright?"
Arianne let out a sigh of relief. She sounded clear and lucid. But now that she was on the phone with her, Arianne didn't know where to start. "Um, I just wanted to check in. See how you are."
"Oh." A moment of befuddlement. "Well, that's nice."
Arianne would have laughed at the awkwardness if this wasn't her own mother. She sat on the edge of a desk and closed her eyes. "So how are you?"
"Same as usual. The only thing that changes in Apache Crossing is the temperature."
"To hot or hotter," Arianne mumbled. Her mother's chuckle without any hint of bitterness or irony was a welcome change of pace. It brought back memories of the last family trip they took before everything fell apart. "Do you remember our road trip across Arizona? Especially when we drove up the Apache Trail to Tortilla Flat?"
"I've never seen your father turn so green. Those windy roads did a number on him."
"And the fact that they had no guard rails."
Her mother added with humor, "He kept yelping every time I got too close to the line. I thought we'd have to pull over so he could catch his breath. What brought on this trip down memory lane?" A sober note. "Talked to your father recently?"
The question was salt on her open wound. "He's not answering my emails or calls." She expected her mom to make a snide comment about his precious princess Ari or lord over the fact that she was now on her dad's shit list, but her mom continued to surprise her.
"You know how he is." Her mother sighed and left it at that which she was grateful for.
"Did you ever think we'd ever end up here?" Arianne asked.
"Talking?"
"Broken."
Her mother let out a short sigh. "Always were such a silly girl."
She tried not to bristle. "I've never been silly."
"Then why do you care so much about the past?"
"Maybe because it's affecting our present?" Arianne heard the familiar clinking of glass against glass. "Mom," she warned darkly.
"No lectures," she ordered as liquid sloshed into a glass. "Don't forget who's the adult in this relationship."
"Shouldn't you be asked yourself that," Arianne muttered under her breath. Thinking of Harvey, she twirled the silver ring on her thumb. She missed talking to him. He always took time to reflect on her words as if they mattered. She mattered.
Her mom took a long sip. "So what's wrong? Why did you phone me out of the blue?"
"Just stuff." She couldn't make herself share the nitty-gritty details. Not when this call had already pushed her mom to drink. Of course, she rarely needed an excuse to pull out the bottle, but Arianne still felt a degree of guilt.
"What kinds of stuff?" her mom asked. "Boy stuff?"
Did she seriously think Arianne would share boy troubles with her of all people? "That's not it." Arianne straightened when the door opened, and a boy peeked his head inside. His eyes widened with recognition when he saw her. "Fuck," she whispered.
"What happened?" her mom asked. "Is something wrong?
The boy gave her a thorough look, then lifted an eyebrow in a definite challenge. She got to her feet and brushed past him, her lips curled in a snarl. "How do you stand it?" she asked her mom hotly. "Don't the constant looks and whispering get on your nerves?"
"Why do you think I drink?" her mom responded dryly.
"You should pack up and start fresh somewhere else."
"Where would I go? This is my home. And maybe staying is my punishment for what I did to you and your father. Or maybe I don't want to concede defeat and slither away like a coward. Either way, I'm staying in Apache. Besides, that mill is mine."
"And dad? Is he yours too?"
"Pride owns your father. That'll never change. Remember that, Ari."
As they said goodbye, Arianne realized in her own way, her mother was warning her. She shouldn't expect her father to bend. He would always choose himself over everyone else—even his family. It hurt her heart, but maybe it was time to let that sliver of hope go.
She walked to the library feeling marginally better even though her mother's comment about slithering away like a coward made her squirm. It wasn't cowardly to want to be accepted, right? And if things weren't working, then it means something needs to change.
But it doesn't have to be your location.
Okay, okay, so maybe transferring was a tiny bit cowardly, but justified. Who would want to spend the next three years under such scathing scrutiny? And no one but Morgan would miss her.
Garrett would miss you.
Her stomach clenched. Garrett had her all mixed up inside. On the one hand, he understood how vicious gossip could be and still told his friends. On the other, Garrett wasn't a careless person. If he trusted his friends, then they were good people. So which Garrett should she put stock in?
Frustrated, her toes flexed in her black boots. It was a convoluted mess. One she didn't want to think about anymore. She pulled the library door open and walked to the study rooms. Instead of worrying about life, she'd lose herself in statistics for econ and hope for a little peace and quiet.
It didn't last long because an hour later, the door burst open. Marcus ran in, a frazzled Stephan not far behind. They honed in on her like a drone finding its quarry, and she knew, just knew, they were going to drop a bomb on her, especially when their expressions grew darker. This was not how she imagined their first meeting going down since Garrett spilled her secret with them. She thought they'd be awkward. All shuffling feet and avoiding eye contact while she held court like a queen, but clearly that wasn't going to happen. What was it Harvey always told her? Fantasies were rarely grounded in reality.
Marcus stood across from her and laid his palms on the desk, leaning in—pressing in—like he was trying to illustrate the gravity of his words. "You need to talk to Garrett. Like right now." Stephan punctuated the point by shoving her books and papers haphazardly into her bag, not caring he was crushing her lunch—a sandwich and chips—into smithereens.
She reached for her bag, but he refused to let go, and they ended up in a ridiculous game of tug-of-war. "What's going on?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at Stephan. She gave a hard tug, and he finally relinquished but not before sending his own look, one filled with urgency and a hint of defiance.
"He's going to throw tomorrow's game," Stephan replied.
Confused, she asked, "Throw in tomorrow's game? Isn't that a good thing?" She knew he was nervous about being selected as lead pitcher, but it was better to be playing than irrelevant.
Stephan gathered the rest of her pens and papers and shook his head impatiently. "I said, 'throw the game' as in making sure Eason loses."
Her confusion turned to alarm. "Why on earth would he do something as asinine as that?"
Stephan gave her a quick grin, the dark clouds parting for a few amusing moments. "Good question," he said, motioning for her to open her bag. He dumped the rest of her stuff in, ignoring her wince.
"We'll fill you in on the way. Let's go." Marcus already had the door open, his foot tapping impatiently.
They left the library, Arianne sandwiched between them. She realized it was a coordinated act when they ran into a crowd of students, and neither guy moved from her side. Rather, they turned into her, protecting her from getting jostled, and more importantly, viewed. The wedge of anger still lodged in her chest softened. They cared. More than she thought possible, but whether that care came from pure hearts or guilt was still up in the air.
Arianne's eyes widened as Marcus and Stephan filled her in on everything that had happened in the last week including Garrett getting blackout drunk something they insisted he never did. "So he hasn't given this person an answer, right?" Arianne clarified.
Marcus shook his head. "Not yet, but it's coming."
"And you're positive he's going to say yes."
They shared a meaningful look over her head, making her feel short. "That's the feeling we're getting. He hasn't affirmed either way but..." Marcus' eyebrows pinched together, and he let out a frustrated sound. "This game is important, and not just for the team."
Arianne lifted a brow. "Do you have any idea who this hacker person is?"
Stephan shook his head. "Greg is staying tight-lipped on the whole subject."
"We think you're the only who can talk sense into him," Marcus said, his tone earnest.
"I think you're exaggerating my influence, but I'll see what I can do."
"And you will talk sense into him, right?" Stephan asked. "I mean I understand why you wouldn't but—"
"He needs this." Marcus stopped in front of her and lightly touched her arm. "Not for the team but for himself. It's almost like he's looking for an excuse to...to..."
"To lose," she filled in. Yeah. That's what she was thinking too. Christ, the guy had a self destruct button, and he was determined it go off. "Does anyone else know about this?"
"Just us, Greg, and now you."
"Good. Make sure it doesn't get out." She didn't know much about team dynamics, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to deduce how his teammates would react. "You know he's not going to be happy you told me."
Marcus started walking again. "We know. He straight out told us not to say anything, but we didn't see any other way."
"None that didn't involve rope," Stephan added.
She glanced at Stephan to see if he was kidding, but she couldn't tell with the sun in her eyes. When they reached Garrett's dorm, she felt a shiver of apprehension. What was she even doing here? It's not like she had a mythical spell up her sleeve to make Garrett see reason. And truth be told, no matter how much she hated the thought of him purposely losing the game for her, a small slice of her wanted him to do it. She wanted that name. She wanted to confront him or her and ask—no, demand—how they found out. More importantly, she wanted to know why they had a vendetta against her. What did she do that was so wrong?
Both boys vibrated with tension as they escorted her up two flight of stairs. They kept sending her desperate looks that made her squirm. She wanted to shout, "Don't pin your hopes on me!" and run to her bed, pull the sheets over her head, and hibernate until summer, but she couldn't do that to Garrett. He was trying so hard for her sake. The least she could do was smack some sense into him, but now that they were at his door, she froze.
"What's wrong?" Marcus asked. She squeezed her hands together, suddenly nervous. What was she going to say to him?
"You better not be backing out," Stephan accused. He looked ready to jump down her throat at the slightest hint of resistance.
She waved him down. "Give me a minute." Taking deep breaths, she rolled her shoulders and tried to place herself in Garrett's shoes. Most likely, he was feeling indebted to her, so there was only one way to counteract that. She readjusted her hat and then threw the door open. Marcus and Stephan yelped as they leapt back in surprise.
Arianne charged in, guns blazing. His room was set up much like hers, divided down the middle with beds and desks pushed against opposite walls. She was happy to note no posters of half-naked girls hung on either side, although there were a lot of surfing posters on his roommate's half. Garrett was sitting in front of his laptop at his desk, books spread around him. His clothing was wrinkled, and his hair unkempt. "What the hell, Garrett?" she asked. "Do you have a self destruct fetish I don't know about?"
He scrambled to his feet, his gaze darting behind her. "You told her?" he growled.
"You wouldn't listen," Marcus replied. The room grew cramped as they beside her, one on each shoulder, presenting a united front.
Garrett shook his head. "It wasn't your decision to make."
"To hell, it wasn't," Stephan exclaimed. "This affects the team. Our team, in case you've forgotten."
"Of course, I haven't forgotten, but this also involves Arianne."
She piped up, "Arianne can speak for herself, thank you very much. And they did what you should have done from the moment you got that call."
Sighing, he threw his hands up, ran them over his head and then down to his neck, cradling it. "You already have so much going on. I didn't want to burden you."
Her gaze softened, and she invaded his space, putting a hand over his beating heart. "That's sweet, but I'm not a crystal vase you need to baby. I'm not going to shatter."
He gave her a fierce look, pride burning in his eyes. "Damn straight, you aren't."
"So don't keep things like this from me. I can make my own decisions, and I refuse to be bullied into something as low as cheating. We can find answers a different way—a better way, okay?"