7. A Little… What?!?!
seven
A Little… What?!?!
Onyx: 2024
I ’ve decided Mondays are assholes because all they do is spew shit.
After analyzing the crinkled piece of paper in my hand, I glance from the number sign on the wall to the numbers on the row of lockers.
Everything. All of it. It’s all black and white!
Sweet baby Jesus, have they heard there’s a whole rainbow of colors? I mean, I learned that shit eating Skittles. It’s not a well-kept secret; it’s common knowledge.
I figure since I’m already on one, I might as well keep ranting because it’s making me feel pretty good. Who thought it would be a good idea to put a “ social area” ’ in the basement of this horrific maze?
Because, yes! By all means, I’ll love eating underground in dungeon vibes.
Anger sizzles over my skin when I figure out I’m on the wrong floor again . Could I have read the locker number wrong on the schedule Mrs. Let’s-Talk-Feelings gave me? Maybe . Am I taking the blame? Hell no!
Talk about burning calories; screw all these steps!
“Three months,” I whisper to myself. Giving into my screaming thighs, waiting nervously on the shiny metal panic attack to arrive.
Claustrophobia’s a bitch, but so are five flights of stairs. My thighs are protesting, telling me loudly they won’t make it another round. I’ve put in more cardio in the last three hours than I have in the last three months. Lucky me, I’ve finally come to the conclusion — senior lockers are on the ground floor. Not the fourth, and there’s none on the dungeon level.
The chime stops me from studying the crumpled schedule as I watch the shiny silver doors slide open, inviting me in. My heart slams against my chest as I step inside. Immediately, I’m a nervous wreck, sealed up tight in a metal box like a can of processed food.
“You’re Onyx,” a voice hits me, shoving its way past the whooshing of my heartbeat thumping against my eardrums. I turn, blinking at the grayish-white bundle of hair in the corner. How I missed the knotted mess piled on her head can only be chalked up to pure panic.
“Maybe,” I hesitantly answer, eyeing her suspiciously. Although, she’s the only person that’s actually tried to speak to me today.
Her green eyes study me as a smile tugs at her glossy lips. “Sweetness, you were the tea last Friday. You’ve been in everyone’s mouth for days,” she jokingly informs me, wiggling her perfectly manicured brows.
It’s like we drove three hours and fell down the rabbit hole. Did someone say tea?
Let’s be clear. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here because I’m being forced by a rich-dead guy I vaguely remember meeting once.
“I’m guessing that’s your fun way of saying I’m the gossip,” I mumble at her distractedly, eyes stuck on the digital number screen.
The silver doors slide open, and I can’t get out of the metal box fast enough. Air fills my screaming lungs, while anxiety melts from my pores as soon as my feet hit the solid marble floor, lungs no longer constricted.
To hell with being rude. Breathing always trumps manners in panicked situations.
Her footsteps match mine as she falls into step beside me. “Listen up. Number one, your business is better than chocolate during PMS. Number two,” she starts, holding up two fingers for shock value. “Your name’s more popular than a cheap whore on Saturday night. And three, social media is forever,” she warns lazily, smiling as though she’s proud of herself for the lecture she’s just given me.
“Who are you?” I question, barely listening to her stupid warnings, more focused on the bodies starting to fill the hall.
Without seeing it, I know she rolls her eyes. “Zoey, and you should really do some research. You live in a small town… now . Everyone knows everyone. Including you.”
“Hardly an answer, but thanks for the info dump,” I grumble, annoyed by her presence, and trying to fight through the crowd to get to my locker.
She appears, leaning back against the one beside mine. “Fun fact: I’m your neighbor, in and out of school.” She winks, flashing a shit-eating grin as if she’s told me some fantastical news.
Never one with patience for bullshit, slamming my locker door harder than intended. “What are you rattling about now? And why should I care?”
She slowly shakes her head, staring at me wide-eyed like I’m an idiot. “I should’ve talked slower,” she says sarcastically. “This.” Laying a hand on the black metal she’s no longer leaning against. “Is my locker. Annnd I live in a house beside yours.”
My brows scrunch as I process what she’s said. I’ll figure out how I feel about it later. “You mean Hendrix’s house. It’s not mine. I’ve barely lived there twenty-four hours.”
Maybe she should do some research.
She stares at me like I’m a pathetic soul she needs to save. “You really need to do some fact-digging because I know they have.” Nodding towards the crowd of bodies clogging the hall around us.
Something Mom always loved to harp about hits me, " Complete transparency, Onyx."
Honestly, I couldn’t give less fucks about what she’s saying. I don’t want to be her friend. I’ve got three months until I graduate. Then I’ll return to my home. The accounts and assets will no longer be frozen, and I’ll be able to claim my trust.
Ninety days is my sentence. Then I’m out.
“You going to keep vomiting useless knowledge at me? Or, tell me what you want?” I ask, glaring at her face.
She smirks, green eyes roaming over me. “Grumpy queen,” I think I hear her mumble.
“Huh?” I grunt, wondering if I’ve heard her right.
“Zoey,” a loud voice booms over the crowd. A giant body to match appears beside her, causing the flow of bodies to veer around us. “You makin’ friends with the new girl?” he asks, wiggling his brows suggestively as his eyes fondle my tits.
She snorts, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Go away, Brad. Her universe is way bigger than yours.”
He scoffs at her warning, stepping closer, sizing me up like every bit of the goon he is. “She looks like a tiny kitten to me,” he suggests grossly.
Glowing silver eyes behind his shoulder draws my attention, pissing me off instantly. I smile shyly up at the goon, toying dangerously with the glowing anger hovering nearby.
Leaning close to Brad, teeth scraping over my bottom lip. “Kitties have claws,” I taunt playfully, side-eyeing the wall of rage watching us.
“Onyx,” Zoey whispers nervously beside me, tugging my arm.
“I got some wood you can scratch,” Brad the idiot suggests.
Fucking ick!
Before I have time to respond, something wet hits my chest. “The fuck!” I screech, jumping back.
My head snaps up, ready to unleash on the goon, until I find Vex’s scowling face behind him.
Rubbing my chest. “Did you seriously spit on me?” I challenge, inspecting my wet fingers.
Vex huffs through his nose, watching me stare in shock. “That’s one,” he says, walking away casually.
I shove Brad out of my way, ready to chase down the asshole.
“Stop,” Zoey sighs, hands out in front of her, blocking me.
“Get out of my way,” I grit, shoving her. “He fucking spit on me,” I hiss loudly, tracking his movements through the crowd.
She smiles sadly as if she can relate. “That’s just Vex. Let it go,” she warns nervously.
Shock pummels me in the face at how quickly she’s ready to discount what he’s done because it's Vex.
“Let it go? I don’t give a shit if it’s Vex. I don’t know how you small-towners live. But, us city folk don’t walk around throwing our bodily fluids on people in public,” I hiss, not even trying to hide my anger.
She grabs my wrist, jerking me down the hall behind her. “Come on,” she groans.
Digging my heels in, forcing her to stop. “I’m —”
She gets in my face, eyes wide. “Shut up! You’re making it worse. Look around,” she whisper-shouts, stepping back.
“What?” I ask, glancing around us.
“You just became invisible. Marked. Cursed. Call it whatever you want. Now, shut the hell up, and let’s go,” she orders.
My eyes rake over the faces filling the hall, letting her drag my confused ass away. Realizing no one’s looking at me. It’s as though we’re alone with the way the crowd splits to avoid us.
Did she say cursed? What the actual fuck is wrong with these people?