Four pairs of eyes swing toward me, but my gaze is only riveted on one of them. Trent stops bouncing the basketball, his brows dipping as he takes in my distressed state.
“Why?” I croak as a fresh wave of tears burns the back of my eyes and nose. One of the Savages—Zach Covington—barks out a sharp laugh.
“Who the fuck is this nerdy-looking bitch?”
The rest of them laugh. Except for Trent. He’s still staring at me as though I’m a puzzle he’s trying to put together.
Ignoring Zach’s comment, Trent asks, “Can I help you with something, kid?”
Kid? Kid? Are you kidding me?
My lips purse into a thin line. I take a threatening step forward and jab my finger toward him. He doesn’t flinch or move away, just raises an inquisitive brow.
“You know exactly why I’m here.”
“Can someone please remove this cow from the court? She’s fucking up the game!” Vincent Hawthorne—another one of them—growls.
I angrily swipe at the tears streaming down my face, hating that I look so weak. Hating that Trent is staring at me as though he has no clue who I am.
“Please, Trent,” I plead, trying for a different approach. “Just tell me what happened at the kissing rock last night with Madison. I promise I won’t be upset. I just…I need to know you didn’t hurt her. I need to know our kiss last night was real.”
Laughter.
Loud, soul-crushing laughter is the response I get from Trent and the rest of the guys.
Trent drops the basketball. The sound of it bouncing against the asphalt echoes around us, and he crosses his arms over his solid chest, a taunting smirk playing on his lips.
“Kiss? You having dreams about me, sweetheart?” He turns toward the guys, laughing and fist bumping as if this is some sort of sick joke. Marcus Whitehorn—another devil of Humboldt—makes a show of crudely humping the air.
My teeth grind together as I work to control my anger. “You kissed me last night at the bonfire, Trent. You called me beautiful. You even told me to meet you at the kissing rock later on that night.”
Trent tips his head back and laughs. The column of his neck works vigorously to support his booming hysterics.
“Look, sweetheart, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but I never kissed you yesterday. Hell, I wouldn’t come near you with a ten-foot pole. So why don’t you do us all a favor and get the hell out of here?”
Angry tears prick my eyes. “You’re lying!” I yell. My shrill voice bounces off the courts. “You kissed me yesterday. All of you were there!” I pin them all with my glare before focusing back on Trent. “You asked me to meet you at the kissing rock, and Madison went instead, only, this morning, she never came home, and I’m sure you all know why.”
I let my words, my insinuation, hang in the air. Among all of us.
Their laughter and smugness taper offInstead, it’s replaced by anger. Both Trent and Zach take dangerous steps forward, but Marcus and Vincent place a hand on their shoulders, stopping them from closing the distance.
“Listen, you little bitch, I don’t know what you think you know, but I already told you, I don’t know who the fuck you are. We didn’t kiss, nor will we ever. I wouldn’t be caught dead kissing a freak like you. Now, leave.”
“But you know me. You all do,” I choke out, tears clogging my voice. As I stare at Trent, I can’t help but wonder where the guy from last night went. That guy was actually sweet to me, but now he’s back to his asshole ways.
“Do we know this…thing, fellas?” Trent asks the guys, looking over his shoulder. They all laugh, shaking their heads.
“Please, Trent,” I sob, taking a step closer. “Just please tell me what happened to my sister.”
“I said to fucking leave!” Trent abruptly barks. I flinch at his tone, almost stumbling over my own feet.
“Get the fuck out of here while you still can, freak,” Vincent growls, picking up the discarded basketball. I shake my head, trying to see through the torrent of tears streaming down my face.
How could he? Last night happened. I know it did.
Why are they lying? Why can’t he just admit he kissed me last night? Was it all some sick joke? Was Madison right about everything?
“Trent—” I start to say, but Zach snatches the basketball from Vincent’s grasp and throws it at me. The ball hits me right in the stomach, knocking the air out of me.
“GO!” he barks, and I do. I stumble back on trembling legs, and I run away. My body wracks with sobs as I weave through the streets. Tears and snot run down my face, and I can hardly see where I’m running through the flow of tears. My slipper suddenly catches on something, and I fall forward. My body thuds against the moist earth, and I rest on all fours, sobbing into the still air.
I cry for Madison.
I cry for a brokenhearted freak who never stood a chance.
I cry and cry until I have no tears left.
The sound of tires on gravel has me wiping my face on the sleeve of my sleepwear and looking up toward the source.
“Dear God, Mackenzie. Where the hell have you been? Your parents need you!” Sheriff Keller says, throwing open the driver’s side door of his squad car.
I don’t even bother wiping the tears off my face. Instead, I let a desperate sob slip free and look up into his worried eyes as he scrambles toward me.
“Sheriff Keller.” My voice quakes, and my lip trembles uncontrollably. I have no doubt my next words will cause a shitstorm of problems. “I have to tell you something about last night.”
“Mackenzie? Hey, you all good, babe?” Vera asks, snapping me out of the memory. “You spaced out for a second.”
I clear my throat, my eyes still glued to the photo and the words above it. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I just … I guess I was just thinking about work stuff.” The lie slips easily from my lips, much as it usually does around these girls. They’re my friends, sure, but I’ve never been truthful with them. About my past or even my present.
Katherine and Vera have always been the popular rich girls, and looking at me now, you’d never know that, at one time, I wasn’t. I’ve changed a lot over the past years. So much so, I don’t think anyone from my high school would even recognize me, let alone remember me.
I’m no longer fatty Kenzie. Now I’m just Mackenzie. Socialite.
After graduating from Ferndale High, I turned down my academic scholarship to San Francisco State University and made a spur-of-the-moment decision to move to the Big Apple. I haven’t set foot in California since then, and I haven’t so much as given any thought to going back either. There’s nothing left for me there, hasn’t been for a long time.
My friends are the crème de la crème here in the rich world. Their jobs? They don’t work. They just spend Daddy’s money, wear the latest in fashion trends, and get paid to look good. They appear in the hottest clubs, party with celebs, and spend a fortune on unnecessary things, like this meal that I’ll probably have to dig into my savings to pay for.
Pretending to be something or someone I’m not is what I’m used to. It’s how I’ve gotten by all these years. The nice girls? They don’t make it. They get stomped on and taken advantage of. I had to learn that the hard way. But the mean girls? They weather the storm and somehow always end up on top.