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CHAPTER 42
Elias
It's been two hours.
Two hours since I last talked to Lacey, and things have been radio silent ever since.
I should be looking for her. I should be out in the halls trying to track her down instead of stuck in the back of math class dodging the stares and whispers coming at me from every direction. But, thanks to the Daily Gawker, I couldn't outrun the eyes in this school if I tried.
I sink six inches further into my seat when the clique of girls a couple rows up turn around and glare at me for the fifteenth time this morning. I half-recognize one of them from the party scene I used to haunt last semester. Back then, I lived for the weekend 'cause weekends meant getting into parties and getting into party girls like the one sitting a couple feet away from me now.
She's looking at me like I owe her something, and chances are I probably do. But how do you apologize for using people? How do you apologize when you don't remember what you did?
Before Lacey, most of my days and nights were a blur. I didn't care about what I was doing or who it was with as long as I had a body and enough alcohol to keep out the loneliness. Half the time, I was too wasted to remember the girls I messed around with—but I vaguely remember this one. I wish I didn't—but I do.
I don't know if it's the upward pull of her lips, the wild redness of her hair, or the trouble in her baby blues, but seeing her only reminds me of every girl who came before Lacey and all the ghosts I've put her up against. All the girls who could come out of the shadows just to drag Lace into the limelight, just to tear her apart. But I don't want that for her.
I don't want her to have to pay for the mistakes I made. But if I don't get this situation under control, she'll have to. I've gotta track down who took that picture and I've gotta make that post disappear. Otherwise, Lacey will turn into Mission Bay's new favorite target, and I'll be the reason she has a bullseye painted on her back.
I grab my phone out of my back pocket and try to text Lacey again even though I'm probably not gonna get an answer. Honestly, I don't deserve one. I didn't show up for her after I promised I would. Lacey probably waited by herself in the girls' bathroom for the better half of first period hoping I'd be there. But, I wasn't—thanks to Derek Gibner.
The dickweed was out on hall patrol right when I sprinted into school, and he caught me trying to skip class. If he hadn't been on rounds with the vice principal, I would've dodged him and run straight to Lacey. But instead of ending up with her, I ended up here, tripping over my thumbs trying to get her to forgive me over text message when we should be talking face-to-face.
I finish typing out a paragraph of excuses only to delete it seconds after. I decide on keeping things simple and shoot off a quick "I'm here whenever you wanna talk" text and send it to her. Before I can get around to sliding my phone back into my jeans, the hard tap of a balled up piece of paper landing on my desk distracts me.
I scan the classroom for a couple seconds trying to figure out who and where it came from, but suddenly, everybody's busy taking notes instead of passing them around like I know they do. I unwrap the ball in my hands until the handwriting's clear enough to read over the wrinkles.
"Question, is 'girlfriend' Spanish for long-term whore? If so, none of us are mad about it. We'll still look for you on the weekends xo"
I read the message once. Twice. Three times. And then I snap. And I know I shouldn't. I know I'm in the middle of class, and that I'll get in trouble if I do this. I know my mom and dad will be beyond disappointed for losing control. I know Tanner would want me to breathe through the worst of my frustration and keep my cool.
But I'm way past the point of staying calm.
Coming after me is one thing. I don't care if my picture's posted online or if people run their mouths behind my back. But going after Lacey—even if they don't know that she's my girlfriend is going too far. I bolt up out of my chair and nearly knock my desk clean off its legs from the speed alone.
"Who the hell wrote this?!"
The whole class turns around to look at me including our new substitute teacher, Ms. Mandrake, whose glares could kill. The lady looks and acts like an angry, half-senile English bulldog. Her face is stuck in a permanent scowl and her saggy cheeks never fail to wobble back and forth whenever she disapproves of something. Right now, she clearly disapproves of me. She narrows her cloudy eyes, digs her hands into her wide hips, and clicks her tongue at me from across the room.
"Mr. King, as I'm sure you're well aware, loudness and foul language are not allowed in my class, so I highly suggest that you—"
"What about trash talking other students, Ms. Mandrake? Is that allowed? What about gossip? And rumors? And using all that bullshit to ruin people's lives? Is that okay? 'Cause apparently there's people in here that seem to think so."
I crush the note in my fist and search the faces of every single person sitting in front of me. I wanna see the moment when their guilt gives them away, but nobody flinches. Kids at Mission Bay don't crack under pressure unless their social lives are on the line. None of them have anything to lose when it comes to destroying people like me and Lacey, so it doesn't matter what I say. Or how angry I get.
And that's pissing me off even more. Ms. Mandrake sighs to herself like she's watching a child throw a tantrum she doesn't have the energy to put up with.
"Listen, young man. I don't know what has you agitated this morning, but I'll offer you two ways to deal with it. You can apologize, sit down, and remain silent for the rest of this lesson. Or you can leave my class and take a yellow detention slip on the way out."
"Done and done."
I don't even think twice about grabbing my backpack off the ground and b-lining straight to the front of the classroom. I swipe a detention slip off Ms.Mandrake's desk before she even has the chance to make the move to hand me one. Ms. Mandrake clears her throat at me right as I reach the door.
"Mr. King, before you step out, I hope you're well aware that your behavior this morning will affect your grades negatively. It might do you some good to reconsider your actions."
I run a hand through my hair and briefly consider turning my back and walking away without making things worse. But, whether I like it or not, I'm still my father's son.
"Oh, I'm aware. I also hope you're aware that letting notes like these get passed around in your classroom under your watch could definitely be seen as what's the word, oh yeah, negligent—especially if a lawyer were to look into it. Now I'm not saying I have the legal know-how to get you into that kinda trouble, but I'm sure you and the rest of the teachers know that my dad certainly does. So, as you said, it might do you some good to reconsider your actions. Have a nice day."
I slam the door on my way out without looking back at Ms. Mandrake or anyone else. I wish I could say that I felt powerful or vindicated walking away from the classroom, but I didn't. I felt empty. Stupid. And too much like the little rich princes and princesses who use their parents' names to get what they want at this school and everywhere else. I've never ever wanted to be that person. But I gave in a little bit today.
Not because I wanted to.
But because I'm scared of the things that could happen here if people found out that my dad doesn't actually have my back.
And that I do have a girlfriend who I've cared about since the first time I saw her.
And that since meeting her, I feel like I have everything to lose.
***
I spend the rest of the morning skipping class and dodging Gibner and his goons by hiding out in the library. Lacey's a total brainiac so I figured she'd have to come pick up a couple books at some point, but there's no sight of her anywhere. The lunch bell rings, and I jet out of the library and head straight for the cafeteria.
If there's one place Lacey can't avoid me, it's the lunch hall. The girl doesn't miss meals so there's no way I'm missing out on this chance to apologize. I bust through the cafeteria's double red doors and watch as tables full of people turn their heads in my direction.
The loud buzz of the lunch room slows to a low hum, but I don't have time to let the quiet panic eating a hole through my chest slow me down. I grip the straps of my backpack and scan the room for the one person I wanna see. But the sound of the last two voices I wanna hear cut through the silence and straight through me.
Kev and Ty, the guys who've been hell bent on ruining me since they leaked the video of my 8th grade disaster, stand up out of their red Mission Bay seats and turn toward me. Kev's acne has somehow managed to get even worse since Spring Formal which I'm hoping is heaven's way of punishing him for generally being a dick. But despite the state of his face, he's standing in front of a crowd with a new kind of confidence that only comes from getting laid.
I glance down to the seat to the left of him and see the infamously desperate manager of the cheerleading team looking up at him like he's the light of her world. He probably bullied her into dating him. Whatever. I guess if you can't get with an actual cheerleader, gunning for the manager's the next best thing.
"Well, look who it is. The King himself finally decided to make an appearance. How's your morning been, bro? Got any secrets you wanna spill?"
Kev elbows Ty who starts giggling to himself like an idiot. The rest of the football team follows their lead except for an unusually quiet Marcus who's staring down at his lunch tray. At least he's not making a circus out of this like everybody else. We might not be tight anymore, but it's nice knowing there's still some kinda respect there.
I glance around the room hoping Josh and Trish aren't cozied up in the corner watching me sweat bullets in front of the whole school. Trish is hard to miss these days with her outrageous outfits and even blonder hair than she had in the fall. Luckily, I don't see her, which means they're probably off banging somewhere the teachers won't see. Good. I've had my fill of getting humiliated in front of Josh. We might not be friends anymore, but that doesn't mean I don't care about what he thinks. As much as I wish I didn't, I still do.
"C'mon, Elias. Your audience is all ears. Tell us about your girlfriend—everybody's dying to know. You got a name for us?"
I cock my head from side to side and roll the tension out of my shoulders like I'm squaring up for a fight.
"Sure, Kev. I got a name for you right here, it's..."
The side door of the cafeteria opens, and I forget where I am. Or what I'm doing. Or what I should be saying. And instead of flipping Kev the bird like I want to, I say the one thing I shouldn't.
"...Lacey?"
I call out for her across the room. I call her name again and again, but she doesn't respond to me. She grabs a grey plastic tray and starts scooping mac and cheese onto her plate like she doesn't notice me. She picks out two drinks for herself and her friend from softball and then looks for a table like she doesn't hear me.
So I make sure that she does. I suck in a breath and shout out her name as loud as I can until there's no sound left in the cafeteria aside from my voice.
Nobody speaks. Nobody breathes. Nobody moves except for Lacey.
She's got her back turned away from where I'm standing, but she's still stunning from across the room. Her long hair is draped down her back and almost fully covering her softball number. She knows how much I love that jersey. How hard it is for me to not wanna hold her while she's in it. How my first memory of her wearing it is me kissing her in front of the batting cages.
The kiss that the whole school has seen.
But even if everybody's stolen a part of that moment, that doesn't change what it meant to me. Half of me wants to tell the whole world, just open my mouth, say the rumors are true, and fight anybody who has a problem with it.
But that would kill Lacey, so all I can do is stand here watching her eat without me next to her. She's shoveling forkfuls of salad into her mouth like she's eating alone. Like I'm not right behind her.
So I close the space. I cross the room blindly, head straight for her, and place my hand on her shoulder so she has to notice me. So she has to acknowledge I'm here.
Lacey puts her fork down slowly, stands up, and turns around so we're face-to-face.
But I don't recognize this face, or these eyes, or this expression. It's empty. Cold. Like I'm looking at a ghost of her instead of the real girl. So I speak to snap her out of it.
"Lacey, where were you? I've been looking for you all morning I—"
"I'm sorry, do I know you?"
I hear the question, but none of it makes sense. She's not making sense and neither is the situation. I break out into an empty laugh because it's all I can do to keep it together.
"W-what are you talking about we're—you and me we're—"
"I think you're mistaking me for someone else. I've heard you get with a lot of girls so—it's an easy mistake to make. Anyway, I'd like to get back to my lunch now, if that's okay."
I nod because I have to. Even though I don't understand. Even though my whole body's going numb because of her words. But then it hits me. The kind of idea that could make or break things with me and Lacey. If I open my mouth right now and do what I'm thinking of doing, she might leave. She might not ever wanna talk to me again. But I have to take that risk. I have to because I don't want anybody digging up our secret and this could bury it for good.
"So, you're just gonna sit there and act like you're innocent. Just play it cool like I don't know what you did?" I say.
The coldness in Lacey's eyes melts into confusion and then shadows of hurt.
"I don't understand."
I shove my hands deep into my pockets so she can't see me clenching them and act like the guy I used to be.
"C'mon, Lacey you know what I mean. I really didn't wanna do this to you in front of all these people, but—"
"Elias, stop."
"No, no. It's too late for that. So why don't you tell everybody what you did so the rumors are put to rest. A desperate girl like you gets off on attention so go ahead. Take the stage. Tell em' what you did."
Lacey pales through her sun-kissed complexion, and she doesn't have to say a word for me to know that I've already taken things too far.
"Fine, if you won't fess up. I'll do it for you. So, ladies and gentlemen, this—"
I make a grand gesture toward Lacey like she's the center of a circus act.
"—is the mystery girl in the photo. But not for the reasons you think. I mean, I get it. A lot of girls wanna get with me, but this one went as far as photoshopping herself into the picture. What can I say? Fans are fans, right? Can't blame the girl for wanting a kiss, can we?"
The whole cafeteria erupts in whispers and stares while Lacey stands next to me in total silence.
"I know, I know this isn't the scandal you were expecting. The Daily Gawker did a stellar job of making you think I had a special someone, but I don't do stalkers, so, yeah. There you have it, Mission Bay. Story's out. Do what you want with it."
The whole room erupts in applause and giggles from the cliques of girls who seem to be relieved by the news. I take a bow, and then force a smile, but then the force of Lacey's palm crashing against my cheek wipes it clean off my face. She storms out. Crying. Embarrassed. Mortified because of me.
Humiliated because of me.
But no longer in danger—
—because of me.
***
BOY KING has a new cover I designed! What do you think?!
Thank you guys so much for waiting for this chapter! I've had back to back film projects so finding time to write has been tough this month! But Kristen and I are stoked we found time to get this to you! Next update should be next week or the week after if things are crazy busy. I'll keep you posted!
#RealTalkQuestionoftheWeek
1. What do you think Elias's intentions were with doing what he did to Lacey?
2. How else do you think he could have handled it?
3. Do you think Lacey will see his heart through his showmanship?