Chapter 9
SEPTEMBER 11 – THURSDAY 7:45 AM
R en
“Ugh, I have to share a locker room with you.”
Vicky’s snarky voice cut through the chatter as I tied my sneakers the best I could with my sore hand. Why had the dean allowed her to come back for this year? She was a leopard, and there was no changing her spots. What did they think was going to happen? She was suddenly going to turn into a girl guide with a sunny disposition.
“Don’t give us all bugs or anything. I mean, you are fucking three guys at once. Who knew that under that uptight exterior was the biggest whore in the room?”
“Takes one to know one, I guess.” I stood up straight. “Oh wait…my guys want to be with me while yours run away.”
Vicky’s nostrils flared, and I couldn’t help staring at them.
“Watch out, everyone. It looks like she’s going to blow,” I said.
Jennifer laughed and then coughed as Vicky turned her glacier stare on her best friend.
“So, you don’t deny fucking all the kings?”
“Not all of them.” I smiled at her. “At least not yet.”
There was a collective gasp at my open reveal, as well as the veiled threat. Vicky knew I meant Nash. It didn’t matter that I had no plan to race down that road, but she didn’t need to know that. I’d sworn not to start shit, but I never said that I wouldn’t finish it.
“You’re such a fucking piece of trailer park trash. I have no idea what they see in you, but I can assure you that you can forget about whatever happily ever after you have built up in that head of yours. None of their families are going to approve of you, and soon enough, they will be forced to choose someone….” She walked forward and looked me up and down like we weren’t wearing the same gym outfit. “Well…someone that isn’t you.”
Vicky walked out of the locker room laughing, followed by her minions.
“Why didn’t you tell her that you’re a Mikhailov,” Ivy asked, her voice only loud enough for me and Chantry to hear.
“I could say that I was the daughter of the president or a descendant of Jesus himself, and she would still find a way to turn it against me. Besides, I don’t want everyone to know yet. I’m still finding my footing and don’t know who from my family wants me dead.”
“Good point. She just burns my ass. I’d love to shove her face in a cake, a flavor she hates,” Ivy said, making me smile. That was the cutest revenge I’d ever heard. “It should be illegal to have to deal with her before noon.”
“How are you doing rooming with her,” I asked Chantry, grabbing my water bottle to leave. I looked at her, and she shrugged.
“She doesn’t bother me. I’m no threat to her queen-ness, and I’m good and making myself invisible. Most of the time, she forgets I’m in the same room.”
“Lucky you,” Ivy said. “You know you’re always welcome to crash with us if you need a break.”
“Thanks,” Chantry said with a small smile.
“We better get out there.”
The noise of girls talking and balls bouncing greeted us as we opened the door. I groaned audibly as I noticed the volleyball nets set up down the center of the gym. Why did it have to be a hand-coordination sport? Luckily, Vicky was warming up at the far end of the four courts.
Grabbing a ball, the three of us formed a triangle and practiced bumping it between us until Ms. Pearson blew the whistle.
“Gather round,” she called out. She always wore crazy-colored socks, and today was no exception. The lime green with pink stripes was blinding this morning. “Alright, we are playing round-robin style. I’ll divide you up and the winning teams will rotate to the court on their right, while the losing team remains where they are.”
Please, dear God, if you like me at all, do not put Vicky and me on the same team.
“The first six are Ivy, Ren, Samantha, Laura, Bri, and Justine. Go to court six.”
I breathed a sigh of relief and walked to the far end of the gym, all too aware of Vicky’s eyes on me. She was worse than a over the top, jealous, possessive stalker.
The whistle blew again, and I instantly regretted not taping my fingers as the opposing team served. Laura bumped the ball from the back in a perfect assist, but the second my fingers touched the ball to hit it over, pain shot into my hand and down my arm.
“Shit.”
By the time the round was over it was obvious that I shouldn’t be participating. I’d tried to defend the last attack with just one hand, and the ball flew wildly into the neighboring court.
“Maybe you should tell Ms. Pearson you can’t play,” Ivy said as we drank some water and waited to see who we would face next.
“Big yikes. Is one game too much for you,” Vicky asked as she walked by. Of course, she was our next opponent.
“Don’t do it. Don’t let her goad you into playing.”
Ivy was right, of course, but Vicky’s smug look as she made a crying face had me tossing down my towel and water like a gauntlet.
“You’re going to anyway, aren’t you?” Ivy sighed.
“Hell yeah, I am.”
Taking up the service position, I waited until the whistle blew and served overhand. My finger screamed, making me wince. Not getting the right lift or arc on the hit, the ball uselessly sailed right into the net. Vicky and Jennifer laughed their asses off as my team stared at me. Fuck.
“Nice serve, loser,” Vicky said, smirking as we sent the ball over to their side.
“Sorry,” I said to my team.
Ivy gave me a sympathetic smile, but all the bravado from a moment ago was gone. She was right. I shouldn’t be playing. But if I backed out now, it would be worse than just losing the game.
Luckily, the ball didn’t come near me for the next few plays, but the moment I moved into the front center position, Vicky smiled at me. She reminded me of an evil clown, like the one in IT .
It all happened so fast, yet it felt like slow motion. Her team served, and Ivy bumped it from the back row, but it went too far, floating over the net like a slow beach ball. Vicky jumped, and even though I saw the spike coming, the ball came back so hard that it was all I could do to get my hands up.
Not that it helped. It pushed through my sore hand like it wasn’t even there and cracked the bridge of my nose.
This hurt a hundred times worse than when Myles accidentally hit me in the face. I stumbled back and dropped to my ass as tears sprang to my eyes and blinded me.
“You bitch.” I heard Ivy uncharacteristically yell. “You did that on purpose.”
Holding my bleeding nose, I blinked and caught a glimpse of Ivy darting under the volleyball net, attacking Vicky. Chaos erupted all around me, complete with screaming and whistle-blowing.
A hand touched my shoulder. “Let me see,” Chantry said in a soothing voice.
My hands slowly dropped away from my face, and I could taste the metallic tang of blood on my lips.
“Hurts, and…can’t breathe,” I said.
“It’s broken. I can fix it. Do you want me to?” I nodded, not wanting to wait. “This will hurt.”
“I’m fine, just do it.”
Chantry braced my nose with her fingers. I winced and closed my eyes like that would somehow prevent the pain I knew was coming. She squeezed and twisted quickly. There was a weird crunching sound, and it hurt as much as the ball hitting my face, but the relief was instant.
“Keep your head tipped forward. I’ll help you up,” she said, far calmer and more assured than I’d ever seen her. Maybe her calling was to be a doctor. With Chantry’s help, I got to my feet. “We need to get the bleeding under control. Can you pinch here?” She touched my nose and then wrapped her arm around my shoulders as I tried to stem the bleeding.
“Where are you going,” Ms. Pearson yelled.
“I’m taking her to the infirmary,” Chantry yelled back over the madness all around us. “I’ll send guards.”
I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. Who the hell was this version of Chantry, and how did we keep her?
“I don’t need a doctor, do I?”
We stepped outside, and I immediately rethought my question as the gentle breeze hurt my entire face.
“They need to make sure you don’t have a concussion, and we need ice for your nose.”
“The blood is slowing.”
“Good, we’re still going.”
“Who are you, and who stole my mild-mannered Chantry?”
She laughed. “I’m good in emergencies. It’s sort of my thing.”
“You should be a doctor, like a trauma surgeon.” She smiled and shrugged.
“Maybe. My family, that’s not part of the Yakuza, are pretty much all in the medical field in some way. Doctors, nurses, and even engineers designing medical equipment. My mother is a heart surgeon, so I guess you could say it runs in our blood.”
Some guys stared at us as we walked by, their mouths hanging open.
“How bad do I look?”
“You’ve definitely had better days,” she said, and even though it hurt, I laughed.
“Thank you. I needed that.”
When we walked into the foyer, I knew that I must look like a walking horror show. Everyone milling around gasped and covered their mouths. Great, just freaking great. Just when I didn’t think I could feel more conflicted about a place….