Confessions of a Queen B* (7 page)

“It’s more than that based on the jabs you take at each other.”

The thought of Summer making snide remarks about me stiffened my spine, and I spun around to find Brett mere inches away from me. I backed up, my back pressed against the cushiony packs of diapers. It would be so easy to tell him every dirty little secret about Summer, about how she’d once been my best friend and then stabbed me in the back. Perhaps it might even spare him from suffering the same fate once she decided there was someone else more worthy of her status. But would he even believe me? Or was he so ensnared by his girlfriend’s wiles that he’d dismiss anything negative that I’d reveal to him.

“I don’t know what she’s told you, but she showed me who she really was back in junior high, and her actions helped shape me into the person I am now.”

Brett arched a bow. “Is that so?”

“She’s the one who inspired me to start my blog.” Usually, just the mention of the Eastline Spy scared off any person who tried to confront me, but not Brett.

“Summer’s the one who inspired to dig up dirt on everyone at school and post it for the world to see?”

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is when you use it to intimidate people.”

“I’m judicious with what I post.” I tried to slide down toward the bottles, but Brett stiff-armed the shelves either side of me, trapping me against the Huggies. “Everyone has secrets. I only choose to expose what I consider to be wrong-doings, to bring justice to those who need to be knocked down a few pegs and to keep the administration from covering things up. Sometimes, the truth needs to be told for the good of the school, and I have no problem dishing it up.”

“With an extra side of bitchiness.” His brows drew together. “You use your blog to intimidate others, and yet you consider it an instrument of justice?”

I pointed to the Batman logo on the center of my shirt. “Just call me the Dark Knight.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up into a wry smile, and he leaned in until his face was inches from mine. “And is there anything I have to be afraid of?”

His question bathed lips, and my spit dried up. Damn it, why did he have to be so good looking? I mean really good looking. Like he could be a model or something. That uneasy trickle of desire squirmed between my shoulder blades and dug its way into the pit of my stomach. My breath caught. If anyone needed to be afraid, it was me. It would be far too easy to fall under his spell.

I swallowed hard and found my voice again. “Not you, Teflon Boy.”

He laughed and pushed off the shelves, his arms falling to his sides again. “You get to be Batman, and I’m just Teflon Boy?”

“Face it—I’m just cooler than you.” I side-stepped away, thankful for the growing space between us. “Besides, you’re the golden boy. Nothing sticks to you. For all I know, you could be shooting up steroids in the locker room and banging every cheerleader on the squad, and no one would know about it. They’ll go to great lengths to hide your secrets.”

That silenced his amusement. “And why do you think I have any secrets that need to be covered up?”

“Because you can’t be as perfect as everyone thinks you are. There has to be something you’re trying to hide.”

He cocked his head to the side and stared at me. “You know what your problem is?”

“Enlighten me, Football Boy.”

“You’re always trying to find the bad in people.”

“Because nine times out of ten, I’ll find it.”

He opened his mouth to counter my argument, but in the end, he just sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I guess if you look at people that way, you’ll never be disappointed.”

Or taken advantage of, which was exactly what Summer had done to me years ago. I had been the first stone she’d stomped on during her ascent to becoming the most popular girl in school, but I’d learned my lesson. And I wasn’t going to reveal any vulnerability to Brett. “Are you suggesting there’s a better way to keep the assholes out there in line?”

“Nope, but have you ever considered spotlighting a person who was doing something good for a change? Maybe it’ll erase some of that negativity that surrounds you.”

“Are you trying to tell me what to do with my blog?”

He shook his head. “Just making an assessment.”

“You can stop trying to convince me to lay off your little circle of friends.” I turned back to baby food. “Just help me calculate how many of these pouches I need for Junior.”

“Two to three a day for six months.” His phone buzzed, and he checked the message. “I’ve got to run, but could you please send me those pics of the price tags when you get a chance?”

“Are you sure you want to receive pictures from me?”

“You’re welcome to send me any pictures you want.”

His gaze fell back to my chest, and split second, I wondered if he was the one behind the camera in the girl’s locker room. Of course, I dismissed it the moment I thought of it. He probably had dozens of girls sending him pictures of their cleavage. And who knew what Summer was sending him? No, Brett wasn’t the type of guy so desperate to see naked women that he’d put a camera in the locker room to spy on them.

It still bothered me that I never found out who was behind the video. I’d love to call out that pervert to everyone in the school. But until I had a name, I would keep quiet about it to protect Taylor.

“You’ll get baby food and diaper prices when I get home.” I turned back to snapping shots of price tags, figuring he would be on his way.

I never expected him to sneak up behind me and whisper in my ear, “I think you’re hiding something, too, you know.”

I froze, paralyzed by the intimacy of the situation. Now, he’d not only invaded my personal space. He was trying to burrow beneath my Queen B exterior. My voice shook ever so slightly as I asked, “Oh?”

“I don’t think you’re as cold-hearted as everyone thinks you are.”

I refused to look at him for fear he’d see how dead on he was. My eyelids fluttered as I tried to pull myself together. I wouldn’t let some jock destroy everything I’d spent the last three years building. I was hard. I was cruel. I didn’t let people get to me. I was the Queen B. “You’re wrong.”

He laughed and backed away. His brown eyes danced with amusement as he crossed his heart. “Don’t worry, Batman. Your secret is safe with me.”

The phrase, “Piss off”, sat poised on the tip of my tongue, and the balled up fists remained at my side as he disappeared around the end of the aisle, his attention now shifted to the text message he was typing out. As much as I wanted to prove to Brett that he was full of it, a doubt in the back of my mind held me back. Everyone except Richard and Morgan dismissed me as the biggest bitch in school without giving me a second look. But for some reason, Brett was spending an exorbitant amount of time trying to figure me out. He’d even switched places with someone to work with me.

And I had no idea why.

Some small part of me secretly wished it was because he liked me, but I knew better than to nurture that notion. Morgan’s warning from the other day pealed in the back of my mind. He was probably trying to dig up something on me to give to his girlfriend. Instead of going gooey on the inside every time he got within a few inches of me, I needed to focus on making sure I didn’t reveal anything Summer could use against me.

And that included secret crushes.

I’d already learned that lesson the hard way.

***

I was searching for something edible in the fridge that evening when I heard the garage door open. It was too early for Taylor to be back from cheerleading practice, and even then, she wouldn’t come through the garage due to her lack of a driver’s license. That only left one person.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, looking up from the scant selection on the shelves. Of course, the one day I actually needed to buy food at the grocery store, I didn’t. I’ll blame Brett for distracting me. But it still didn’t give me much hope for dinner. Did I want a PBJ sandwich again tonight, or did I want to try the freezer and hope there were enough veggies for a stir-fry? “No class tonight?”

My mom had been staying late after work for the last three weeks learning how to use a laser for facial resurfacing. Some plastic surgeon in town was teaching her, but my mom said she needed a certain number of hours of training before she could use it in her practice. Hence, why I’d barely seen her since school started.

“Nope, Pete was sick.” Her high heels clicked across the tiled floor as she came up behind me. “Time for me to schedule another grocery delivery, huh?”

“Or you could just go to the grocery store like a normal mom.”

Of course, there was nothing normal about my mom. A former beauty queen, she was elegant, intelligent, poised. More than once, I’d heard guys at school call her a MILF, which was disturbing. Of course, it didn’t help that she looked more like an older sister than a mom thanks to her using her dermatologic knowledge on herself. I suspected she and her partner took turns injecting each other with Botox on their lunch breaks.

Taylor and my mom were cut from the same cloth, all about appearances.

I was more like my dad, valuing knowledge over beauty. Hence, why Mom and I always seemed to have a strained relationship, at best.

“You know how I hate going to the grocery store, honey. I keep running into my patients there, and they keep wanting to show me some skin growth in the produce section.” She closed the fridge door. “Why don’t we order pizza tonight?”

Part of me wanted to suggest she cook dinner for once, but I knew better. There was a reason why our kitchen still looked showroom new even though the appliances were five years old. “I’m cool with that, but you know Taylor will only eat a salad.”

“Oh, that sounds like a better idea.” She pulled her iPad out and started pressing buttons on the screen. “Do you want one, too?”

“No, thanks, Mom. I’m all about indulging in cheese, grease, and carbs.” But when she handed the iPad to me to pick out my pizza toppings, I ended up loading up on the veggies.

That was when the Demon Doll decided to start screaming.

My normally graceful mom stumbled in her stilettos. “Holy shit, what is that?”

“Class project.” I gave her back the iPad and began my checklist. Removing and replacing the diaper? Check, with still more screaming. Bottle in mouth? Check. Problem solved. I settled onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island and pretended to feed the doll.

“They’ve come a long way from the flour sack baby I had to tote around in school.” Mom came closer, staring at it as though she expected it to turn into Chucky. “How did you get it to stop crying?”

“There’s a sensor in its mouth that recognizes the bottle.” I took it out to show, reviving the wails of displeasure from the doll. Peace returned as soon as I put the bottle back in the doll’s mouth. “I’m getting graded on how well I take care of a doll that’s meant to mimic a real baby.”

“Definitely realistic.” She returned to her iPad. “Is this the first day of the project?”

“It’s the third.” It didn’t surprise me one bit that she slept through the screaming on Tuesday night. I suspected she’d taken an Ambien that night. “Brett and I are switching off every night, though.”

“Who’s Brett?”

“My partner for the project.” No need to explain anything else, like the way I seemed to lose IQ points whenever I was around him.

“That’s nice of him to help out with the baby, unlike your father.”

I rolled my eyes and bit my tongue. I was used to the jabs she threw at Dad whenever she got a chance. What little I remembered of the divorce was messy. Mom had caught him fooling around with his graduate assistant. He claimed she’d driven him to it because she was too busy working all the time. In truth, I didn’t care. My parents were better off split than they were together.

Thankfully, the front door slammed before I had to listen to any more. Taylor stopped at the edge of the kitchen. “What are you doing home this early, Mom?”

She finally looked up from her iPad. “Geez, you make it sound like I’m never here.”

“You aren’t,” I replied and began the burping part of the doll’s cycle. Maybe Brett was right about this being a drill. It was almost becoming second nature now. Perhaps there was some minute shred of a maternal gene in me.

Taylor dumped her cheerleading bags on the floor and sat on the barstool next to me. “It’s just strange having you here at dinner time, that’s all.”

“Sounds like we’re overdue for a family dinner, then.” She handed Taylor the tablet. “Which salad do you want?”

“She always gets the Greek salad, dressing on the side, extra kalamata olives,” I answered. I’d ordered from this restaurant enough times to have it memorized.

Taylor nodded. “Yep, my usual.”

Mom looked at her as though she was a stranger before entering the order. A few clicks later, and she put the tablet down on the counter. “Time to get comfy.”

Once she left the kitchen, Taylor pounced on the iPad and started typing in a web address. “I don’t know what you did, but those videos are down. See?”

She held up the tablet so I could see the site, which said the videos had been removed by the user.