Confessions of a Queen B* (3 page)

“I never said Brett was hot,” I said loud enough for anyone within ten feet of us to overhear. “I’m just paired up with him for a class project, nothing more.”

“And I know you better than that. He must have done something to get under your skin.”

I weighed the risk of confiding about my body’s undesired reaction to him, but decided against it in case anyone around us was listening in on the conversation. “He switched places with someone to work with me,” I mumbled.

“Okay, now I’m thinking
he
must be the one suffering a temporary bout of insanity.” I pressed my lips together, and she added, “Not that I don’t love you and all, but you have the tendency to go a little bat-crazy when it comes to class projects.”

“I demand perfection from myself, and I’d hope my partners will give it their best efforts as well.”

“Yes, but we’re seniors now, so you can stop cracking the whip. Anyway, back to hot guys. You should come to The Purple Dog with me and see the new guy working there. Without the baby, though.”

The Purple Dog was a café in the U-District. Morgan liked to hang out there because it was frequented by university students and, therefore, was far more “intelligent” than the local hangouts. “What? Scared the new guy will freak out when he realizes we’re still in high school?”

“Speak for yourself. I’ve been taking college classes since last year.”

Morgan was enrolled in Running Start, a program that allowed high school students to take classes at a local community college for college credit. She liked to rub in the fact she was at college while I’d chosen to stay in high school and take AP classes to maintain my class rank. That didn’t change the fact she was seventeen and needed a fake ID to even get a tattoo.

I jumped on the opportunity to talk about something other than Brett. “So tell me about him. How many piercings does he have?”

“None.”

“Tattoos?” I didn’t bother asking about the eyeliner, since that was usually on Morgan’s list of musts.

“None that I can see.”

My eyes widened. “Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?”

She laughed. “I know, right? He’s not my type, which is why I’m wondering why I’m attracted to him. But he has this cool, laid-back vibe about him that has me wondering if he’s always that way in every situation. And he seemed really into me this weekend.”

“Into you, or in you?” Most people who met Morgan saw her as a pessimistic, snarky goth girl who sometimes bordered on nymphomaniac. I’d lost count of how many hookups she’d had in the last year. But she handled sex with far more maturity than most people and didn’t seem to form any attachments to the guys she slept with. For her, it was purely physical.

And maybe a way to get back at her ultraconservative parents.

She laughed again, a dreamy look filling her eyes as she twirled her dyed-black hair around her finger. This was the real Morgan, the one who carefully hid her inner romantic behind her tough-girl exterior. “No, not yet. But if he offered, I wouldn’t say no.”

“And another man falls victim to the Queen of Darkness.”

“So, what are you going to do about your project partner?”

I took a deep breath to collect myself. We were back to Brett again. “I’m going to interact with him as little as possible.”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much. If it were me, I’d do him just to piss Summer off,” Morgan whispered before standing up and heading toward the parking lot.

At least she’d provided me with one silver lining to all this. For the next two weeks, Brett would be working side by side with me, which would drive Summer nuts.

***

“Oh my God! My life is over!”

My sister’s wail barely fazed me. I heard the exact same exclamation from Taylor at least once a week. I sighed and went back to reading my well-worn copy of
The Taming of the Shrew
, having finished my homework hours ago. For some reason, that book was calling to me.

My lack of response apparently didn’t please her. She ran into my room with her MacBook Air and shoved the screen in my face. “Look at this, Lexi.”

The fuzzy images from the YouTube clip played for about five seconds before I realized what I was looking at. The overly tanned skin. The excess of enhanced blondes. The fake giggles. “Who’s been filming the cheerleading squad in the locker room?”

Taylor thrust her bottom lip out in a pout. “I don’t know, but my reputation is ruined. Now everyone will know I use inserts in my bra.”

Just as she said that, I saw the meat of the film—all the cheerleaders stripping off their underwear to hit the showers. I slammed the laptop shut. “Aren’t you upset that people are watching you naked?”

Her brows furrowed together as if that thought had never crossed her airhead mind. I’m pretty sure all that “Ra Ra Sis-boom-ba” shit involved with cheerleading must have caused some brain damage. Either that or all the sunless tanner she applied to give her a glow that only an Oompa Loompa could call natural had seeped into her skull. “I mean, I suppose I should be upset about that,” she said slowly, but then added in a rush, “but now they’ll see how small my boobs really are.”

I drew a deep breath and counted to ten while I fought off the urge to shake some sense into her. I gave up hope a long time ago that Taylor would develop into a woman of substance. Instead, she focused on the here and now, the superficial, and had only one goal in life—to become head cheerleader.

I held up the laptop. “This is an invasion of your privacy. Some guy has probably been jacking off while watching you and the rest of the cheerleaders prance around naked for months.”

“You’re right!” The anger I’d been waiting to see finally flashed in her blue eyes. “Some nerd is looking at my perfect ass. As if!”

She whipped out her phone and began texting at a rate that would put a professional transcriptionist to shame. “I’m going to tell Summer about this.”

“It would probably be a better idea to remove the camera if it’s still there.” I turned back to my book.

She paused. “Oh, that would be a good idea.”

Her phone buzzed, and she checked her message. “Summer agrees that we should do something about it. Where do you think the camera is, though?”

When I didn’t answer, she yanked the book from my hands. “Hello? I’m having a bit of a crisis here.”

“If you watch the video, you can probably figure out where it is.” I wasn’t going to get involved with this drama. Even though I did have a sick feeling in my stomach at the idea of someone violating the sanctity of the girls’ locker room, I was more sick at the idea that discovering the culprit would help Summer. It was about time someone knocked her down a notch or two. She’d been full of herself for as long as I’d known her, and now that we were seniors, she’d become completely insufferable. She needed to get her comeuppance.

I tried to grab my book back, but Taylor held it up out of my reach. “Please. You don’t want video porn of your little sister out there for everyone to see, do you?”

“It’s not porn.” I paused. Who knew what games those girls played after practice? “Unless you’re into chicks.”

“No, that would be Alyssa and Emma,” she replied, full of sarcasm, “but they broke up once they sobered up.”

Ooh, another story idea
.
Booze-induced cheerleader on cheerleader action
.

But her plea spoke to something deep inside me and helped me focus on what was important. She was my little sister, after all. I had to look out for her because she obviously couldn’t look out for herself. “Fine, I’ll check out the locker room tomorrow morning and see if I can find it.”

“Thank you!” She threw her arms around me in a hug. “I promise I won’t tell anyone you agreed to help.”

“You’re so kind.”

“Well, I know you want to maintain your reputation for being a cruel bitch.” She looked at my book and scanned the page. “Why do you keep reading this?”

“Because I happen to enjoy it. If you tried reading every once in a while, you might find it’s something you enjoy, too.”

She tossed the book on the bed as if it was an out-of-style pair of jeans. “I
have
read a book. In fact, I read three of them last year.”

Her smug expression almost had me doubled over in laughter. I’d easily read thirty times that in the past year.

“Oh, yes, that series with the doormat idiot of a girl. Really stimulating reading.” I found my place again and tried to lose myself in the third act.

“At least she had a boyfriend instead of being the biggest man-repellent in the school. And speaking of boyfriends, Summer told me to tell you to keep your hands off hers.”

“Trust me, there is no danger of me touching Brett Pederson.” Smelling him was an entirely different matter. “And it’s refreshing to know that Summer’s so insecure about her relationship with Brett that she has to send threats through her little minions.”

“I’m not her minion, whatever that is. And she’s not threatened at all by you. She just wants to make sure you know where you stand.” Taylor stomped out of my room, leaving her laptop behind.

As hard as I wanted to continue reading, the more I thought about the video, the more irritated I became. I popped open the computer and replayed the video. I’d probably need to stab a couple of hot pokers in my eyes to purge some of those images from my mind, but by the end, I had a good idea where the camera was located.

Now, if only I could discover the person behind it.

Chapter 3

“Did you hear about this year’s joke class? If you have a pulse, you’ll get an A in ‘Health’. No wonder the entire football team is taking it this semester.”

The Eastline Spy

September, Junior Year

Thanks to Taylor’s eyeliner
emergency
, we barely made it to school on time. The argument that began in the car ended with her slamming the door of my Prius after telling me she’d be getting a ride from someone less anal than me from now on.

I didn’t have time to inspect the locker room until mid-morning break. It was thankfully empty when I walked in. A few seconds later, I spied the desktop camera sitting on top of the lockers. I snapped a towel toward it, knocking it onto the ground. It had a small antenna, but no plug, no source of power. I turned it over, searching for any clues about its owner, before turning it back to me.

“Listen, asshole,” I said into the lens, pouring every ounce of Queen Bitchiness into my voice, “I’m on to you, and you don’t want to piss me off any more than you already have. Take those videos down, or else.”

Then I tossed the camera into one of the feminine hygiene bins, doubting whoever was behind the videos would wade through the sea of tampons to retrieve it.

Mission accomplished.

I was actually feeling pretty good until I ran into Summer in the hallway. She got in my face, one perfectly manicured claw inches from my nose. “Taylor told me what you said, so I’m going to deliver this message in person. Stay away from Brett.”

I was so tempted to tell her he’d been the one who’d chosen to work with me, but until I knew the reason why, I was keeping that to myself. Instead, I would have to be content to push her buttons in other ways. I swatted her hand away. “Sorry, Summer, but we’re going to have to work together very closely for the next two weeks. After all, we are sharing a baby.”

Her face turned red. “He’s mine.”

“So you think.”

She froze, and a look flashed across her face as though she finally realized she was falling right into my trap. The laughter that followed sounded tight and false. “What am I worried about? What chance does someone like you have with him, especially when he has me?”

I lifted my chest, fully aware of how my T-shirt clung to my bust. “Maybe he’s tired of playing with silicone parts.”

Summer glanced down at my
au naturel
size Cs and scowled.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to Calculus.” I stepped around her, moving on before the Queen Bee had given me permission to leave.

I didn’t need her permission for anything.

***

My skin tingled as Brett slid into the seat next to me. “I need your phone number,” he said as the bell rang.

My stomach dropped in a free fall of panic. “Why?”

“In case I want to hook up sometime,” he whispered, grinning.

The air burned in my lungs but refused to move.

His grin widened. “Just kidding. I was thinking it would be useful in arranging handoffs for the baby.”

Unfortunately, Brett’s conversation had caught Mr. DePaul’s attention. “What’s so important that you’re holding up class, Mr. Pederson?”

“I was just trying to get Alexis’s digits,” he announced to the class, which erupted into snickers.

How many days would I be suspended for giving the star quarterback a black eye?

I pretended to read something on my laptop, rage simmering just beneath my skin. Forget any shreds of respect I might have had for Brett. He and Summer deserved each other.