Technically, I didn't lie to Peyton. I didn't actually know Jake Waites. But I knew plenty about him. How could I not?
Everybody talked about Jake Waites.
Hell, the guy was a practically the county mascot. I secretly thought most of the stories had to be made up or at least generously embellished because no one could be that...
Bad. No, Good. No, I didn't know. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious.
And that was exactly what Peyton was concerned about wasn't it? I pushed the thought aside and stepped into the converted barn that served as the employee lounge and staging area, to be greeted by a hoard of giggling girls crowding around a single window.
I glanced through it as I walked towards the lockers.
Jake stood at the entrance, 18 years old, tall, lean, and yeah, okay, sexy. He was bracing his left hand high up on the barn door while he brushed the mud off his boot with his right. He wore a dusty, sun-bleached white tee shirt and jeans with well worn brown leather chaps. His Stetsoned head was dipped low, a cigarette peeking out from beneath the brim. I couldn't help myself. I stared a while.
I mean, I get it.
I'm not blind.
"Here he comes!" someone cried. The swarm scattered instantly, girls scrambling over each other as the more outgoing ones positioned themselves to their best advantage and the shy ones scurried to the darker corners.
Miranda Scott scampered up to the top of a stack of feed sacks by the entrance, cursing hard as a miscalculation nearly sent her sprawling to the floor. Tsk. That would've been fun.
Alas, she made it to the top, crossed her legs, and tossed her carefully sculpted, glossy black curls over her shoulder. She angled her head just so and cleared her throat. Unsatisfied, she gave her bottom a little wiggle to scoot herself closer to the edge. Finally, she plastered her Hollywood smile on her face.
Please.
To be fair, she was very pretty. With her heart shaped baby face, bright blue eyes and a double dimpled smile, she was easily the second prettiest girl in town.
And while I was being fair, she was hardly the worst of the three girls who ruled West Canyon. In fact, she wasn't half bad when she was alone. The fangs only came out when she was with the others, and even then, you could tell - her heart wasn't in it.
Miranda was a follower, a pretty but deeply insecure girl with an intelligence level that was slightly below average. More importantly, while her 'Besties' were filthy rich, Miranda's daddy worked night shifts down at the factory and had a pretty serious drug problem. That little issue left her forever wandering the purgatory of popularity in such a way that I almost felt sorry for her.
Beth McGee, chubby, awkward and oblivious, wheeled a bale of hay through the doorway.
"Move it fatass!" Miranda hissed. "Go! Shoo!"
I stuffed my backpack into the locker. If Miranda was here, the others wouldn't be too far away. That meant I should make myself scarce. But I couldn't resist the spectacle.
Miranda had just enough time to toss her hair back one more time before He walked in, smack into Miranda's tanned, bare legs. His appreciative gaze slowly traveled from the tips of her toes, all the way up the length of her legs before resting on her face.
"Hiya Jake," said Miranda in a sing songy voice.
He looked up at her and smiled, slow and lazy until it reached his eyes.
Oh yeah, I saw it alright.
"What's going on Miranda?" he drawled, his voice deep and smooth.
Miranda apparently didn't think this through hard enough because she was at a loss for words. Eyes frozen in panic, her solution was to keep on smiling until I could practically see her cheek muscles shaking from the strain.
Like I said, I almost felt sorry for her.
A loud bang caused everyone in the room to turn. Kylie Beaudry, Carson's niece, came storming into the barn. The look on her face raised the hairs at the nape of my neck, and I kicked myself for not leaving when I had the chance.
Unlike Miranda, this one was pure malice.
Kylie planted herself in the middle of the room, placed her hands on her hips and scanned the room. I knew exactly who she was looking for and why. I steeled myself.
"Miranda!"
Miranda still sat on her perch, as still as a statue, her smile now dried onto her front teeth. She jumped at the sound of her name, awkwardly untangled her stiffened joints and hastened to Kylie's side.
Adequately reinforced, Kylie's gaze fell squarely on me.
The Beaudrys were an unattractive lot and Kylie was no exception. She had one of those faces that all the money in the world couldn't fix - it was a matter of bone structure. For Kylie, summers meant frequent trips to Dallas where she'd come back with improvements to her face. Even so, her grey eyes were too closely spaced together, her face too long and her mouth... Without meaning to, I stared. Jaw surgery had improved them significantly, but no amount of orthodontia could correct that severe of an overbite.
"What in hell are you staring at?"
Most importantly, Kylie Beaudry had cancer of the soul.
I grabbed my gloves and boots and turned to leave.
"Don't you walk away from me. I'm talking to you Trayla."
I took a deep breath. Don't engage, just walk away. How many times had I fought this particular battle? Engaging only made it worse.
But I was my mother's daughter for a reason so I turned and walked toward her instead. I planted myself right in front of her and stared at the top of her head. She seethed in anger and I regretted my impulsiveness.
Well, too late to back away now. "What did you say?"
She glared up at me with eyes filled with contempt. I am five feet nine inches tall. At five feet one, she had to crane her neck way back to look me in the face when I was this close to her. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling with satisfaction.
"Trailer trash," she hissed.
Miranda, looking distinctly uncomfortable, let out a nervous giggle, her own family being one paycheck away from the park themselves.
It hurt, but I shrugged nonchalantly. "So they call me."
"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," she hissed. "Oh, I'm sure you're a champion on your knees, but you can't possibly think he wants you for anything more than that."
He, in this case, was Peyton. In Kylie's twisted head, he belonged to her.
Good god. In what universe would Peyton fall for a girl like this?
I bit back a retort, not wanting to drag him into this mess.
She smiled haughtily. "As long as you know your place," she scoffed. "But I'm sure your whore of a mother taught you how the game is played. She's been doing it long enough."
What could I say to that? It was true. My mother had pretty much slept with every adult male in town and wasn't above turning a trick or two when she needed the money. Walk away Layla, I told myself. One more year. Just one more year, and I'll never have to see any of these people again.
I turned to leave.
But the humiliation, and the tragic pride that was always my downfall wouldn't let me go.
Fuck it.
I turned back around.
"Go choke on a bag of dicks Kylie," I said. "With your face, every bit of practice will help."
Calling a truly ugly girl ugly was cruel and low, and I liked to think of myself as being better than this, but today, I gave myself a pass.
Kylie's eyes bulged, her face turning beet red. "I'm going to make you regret this," she said. "I swear to god, you're going to regret this," she spat before turning on her heel and marching back toward the house.
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