Earlier that morning…

The Shrieking T’s: Tina, Tiffany, and Theresa. Horrible girls, just horrible.

The kind of girls a boy wouldn’t take home to Mom because they’d end up fucking his dad. That being said, my threat was black and white. If it didn’t happen, not only would I be exposed and ostracized by the entire campus, but Jack would be embarrassed and never speak to me again.

Like clockwork, I saw the Shrieking T’s at the campus café on Thursdays when I walked back from class. It was their favorite place to pretend to eat. They each bought a bottle of water and picked at a shared piece of cake. I’d never seen them lift a fork to their mouths. The cake was crushed until it was unrecognizable mash, then tossed into the trash.

“Hey there,” I said, plopping down next to Tina in their booth. I had borrowed a pink sweater from Allison and pulled the one cream shirt I owned from the bowels of my dresser drawers. “You guys are on the cheerleading squad, right?”

“Yes,” Tina remarked, giving me a snooty onceover. “Why?”

“Oh, good. I was wondering if you knew firsthand if Jack Porter was dating anyone?” I propped my elbow on the table and laid my chin in my palm, flashing them a brilliant smile.

“Who are you?” Theresa snapped, checking out the diamond tennis bracelet on my wrist (also “borrowed” from Allison).

I looked over at the sandwich bar and pulled a name out of my ass. “I’m Sanwicha Hamm.”

Oh shit. I didn’t even think about them asking for a name. I’d have to give myself lashings later for my lack of preparation. To be fair, I’d only received the note last night. Even evil geniuses need adequate lead-time.

“Sanwicha Hamm?” Tiffany squinted her eyes and dropped her fork on the plate. “That’s a fucked-up name.”

“I know, right? It’s been passed down through the family line. It’s a stipulation in my trust fund. But I go by my middle name, Paisley,” I said after spotting a girl wearing paisley pajama bottoms. Pet peeve of mine, pajamas in public. Have a little self-respect.

“How do you know Jack?” Theresa asked, and that’s when I suspected if anyone wanted to “do” the socially inept Jack Porter, it was Theresa Denton. The girl scored a zero on the self-esteem scale, but I was betting she scored a ten on the infamous pussy scale.

“Oh, we used to date in high school.” I let out a sad, long sigh. “I’ve just been missing him. I was with that QB on your team the other night, and I was just so disappointed. I mean, come on, right? Guy thinks he’s the king of world, but he’s got the stamina of a lit match. It’s there and then it’s not, right?”

Tiffany and Tina shook their heads, but Theresa nodded, agreeing with my statement.

I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat. These next words would burn a hole in my larynx, but I could tell Theresa was biting.

“Jack was always so tender. He’d last for hours. Talk about a selfless lever.” My mouth went dry.

“Lever?” Tiffany inquired. “What’s a lever?”

What’s a lever? How did these people get into college?

My traitorous mind was messing up my words. I know it’s wrong, brain, but do it for Jack. Do this for Jack.

“Oh geez. I meant lover,” I choked out as part of my soul died. “I guess I said lever because Jack is so hard and wide that he can just like lift you up with his equipment.” At this point, I circled my open hand suggestively just outside my nether regions. “You know. Like a lever.”

“Really?” Tina chimed in, thinking over my words as she licked the edge of her fork. “I would have never guessed. I mean, he doesn’t say much to us, just kind of walks to the opposite side of any room we’re in.”

“I think he’s afraid his reputation will get out,” I said, picking up an extra fork and mashing along with them. “I mean, once it got out in high school, all hell broke loose, but I was always sad because I wasn’t his type, not reall—”

“What’s his type?” Theresa interrupted, pulling my hand across the table. She was frothing at the mouth.

“He likes blondes with a light spattering of freckles, strong eyebrow arches, a lower lip that’s bigger than her top lip, green eyes with a spike of gold around the edge of the pupil, and pug noses,” I said quickly, naming everything on her face.

“That’s you, Theresa!” Tina squealed next to her. “Oh my God!”

So after that, I told them I was going to find him tomorrow and profess Sanwicha Hamm’s undying love, and that’s when they dropped the doghouse bomb. Party at the doghouse tonight… Invite only… Jack would be there… Theresa would be there…

Chapter Twenty-Four

“I’m rich,” Fernando announced as I walked into the living room.

Chance had on his gamer set, rapidly pushing buttons on the Xbox remote. We both turned to look at Fernando. He was lying in his boxers across the couch, fanning himself with six crisp one hundred-dollar bills like an Arabian prince.

“What are you talking about?” Chance spit out and flashed his eyes back to the screen where Scott Johnson had commando rolled around a shipping container with an AK-47.

“Well, I went out to get the mail and this”—Fernando picked up a white envelope marked Micro-dick on the front—“was taped to the inside of the box.”

I snatched the envelope from his hands and tore out the note inside.

Didn’t know your parents were poor. I don’t steal from hardworking people, just clueless meatheads. XOXO ~Bitch.

I didn’t know what to make of this. First, Sydney inadvertently got me released from Coach Samuel’s claws, and now she was remorseful for taking me for a ride? Did DJ Sinister really have a heart buried in that cold, black abdominal cavity? I had to feel bad about my death threat from the bus. Everyone heard me, and I knew Jack ratted on me to Sydney, but why did I care?

Well, shit. Deep down, I knew why I cared. Coach was right. I was mildly obsessed Sydney. I enjoyed jerking her around because it meant she had to pay attention to me. Every time I saw that smug little mouth of hers, I wanted to kiss it. Every time she said something rude or annoying, I wanted to touch her until she shut up. Every time I saw her, I felt a mixture of heated rage and unbelievable desire.

Okay, enough with the internal battle waging inside my head. I’m sorry to subject you to that, but you can all see where I’m coming from, right? Everyone has someone in their life they want to throttle one minute and make out with the next, and for me that was a petite, dark-haired, snot mouth with an incredible capacity for evil.

“That’s for me, dumbass.” I held out my hand.

Fernando jerked back his hand, protecting the cash. “Your parents ain’t poor. My parents are poor,” he replied, coveting the money against his chest.

“So you’re admitting to being Micro-dick?” I tapped my foot against the couch leg and rubbed my open palm. “Hand it over.”

His big mouth twisted into a frown, but he held out the cash. As soon as I went for it, he ripped his arm back and smiled. “Who’s Bitch?”

“Give it, tubby,” I snarled. I wasn’t about to admit Sydney Porter had cheated me for six hundred dollars. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sydney Porter,” Chance spoke up and cocked to the side before I could deliver a slap to the back of his head. “I know she is. You’re obsessed, Peters. And I know who she is… I figured it out the night DJ Moron over there outed himself on the internet. She’s the girl from freshman year.”

Fernando sat up and let out a ridiculous howl of laughter. “Sydney Fu? Oh my God. She was adopted by Jack’s parents? Holy shit.”