Chapter 8
Ella
It’s Tuesday, which means I have less than a week left before Briggs starts his all-out war against me.
His warning yesterday in the parking lot almost had me thinking I should just let him have what he wants.
It’s bad enough he’s going after me, but going after my friend?
I can’t let that happen. Charlotte can’t be involved in this. It’s not right.
But despite his threats, I can’t make myself give in to his demands.
I have every right to be valedictorian. I’ve earned it.
While everyone else was out partying and having fun, I was home studying.
That can’t all be for nothing. I deserve this.
Just because Briggs is used to getting what he wants doesn’t mean he gets to take this from me. But how do I get him to back off?
“That’s it for today,” Ms. Tate says as she finishes her lecture. “I’m going to come around now and collect your assignments.”
She starts in my row, and I look through my backpack for the paper I wrote. I did it last weekend and printed it out, knowing Ms. Tate is the only teacher who makes us print stuff out and bring it to class rather than submit it online.
“Ella?” She stands by my desk, holding her hand out. “Your assignment?”
“Sorry, I need a minute to find it.”
She continues to the next row while I search for the ten-page paper that I know I printed out on Sunday. I put it in a yellow folder, the one I use for AP French. There’s no yellow folder in my bag. What the hell? Where did it go?
I take out everything in my backpack, setting it on my desk, pens falling out everywhere. I hear Aubrey laughing from two rows behind me. I glance back and see her smirking at me as she hands Ms. Tate her assignment.
Why is she laughing? Did she do something? Did she take my assignment? How would that even be possible? The only time I’ve been around her all day is now, in this class, and she’s nowhere near me. There’s no way she could’ve taken my assignment.
Everything’s out of my backpack, piled up on my desk, but my assignment isn’t there. I even checked my other folders, just in case I put it in the wrong one, but it’s not there. It’s gone.
The bell goes off, and Ms. Tate stops at my desk again. “Your assignment?”
“Um, yeah, I can’t seem to find it,” I say, stuffing everything back in my bag. “I’ll go print it off at the library. It should only be a few minutes.”
“Ella, you know the rules. Assignments must be turned in during class. I don’t accept late assignments. If it’s late, it’s considered incomplete.”
“Ms. Tate, I promise you I had it.” I hurry to get up, flinging my backpack over my shoulder. “I just misplaced it somehow.”
She walks back to her desk. “I’m sorry, but the assignment was due during class. You’ll be getting an incomplete.”
Ms. Tate started working here last fall and doesn’t know me yet. She doesn’t know I’m not the type of person to forget an assignment. She’s acting like this is no big deal, while I’m in a state of panic right now, knowing I didn’t turn in a paper that’s worth ten percent of our grade!
“I’ll submit it online,” I tell her, racing up to her desk. “I’ll send it right now. The paper is done. I did it last weekend. I just need to—”
“I don’t accept papers online,” she says, putting her reading glasses on as she looks down at the stack of papers everyone turned in. Everyone except me. She picks up a pen and starts reading the first paper.
“Please. Just let me go print it out. I never do this. Ask anyone here. I always turn in my assignments. I’ve never not turned one in.”
She looks up from her desk. “I’m sorry, but rules are rules. I’m sure after this you’ll remember to bring your assignments to class.”
“I did bring it. I swear to you, I had it. I just—”
“Ella, please,” she says with a sigh. “I have work to do.”
I turn to leave the now-empty classroom and see Aubrey walking in, her pink, glossy lips turned up into a slight smile as she comes up to me. “I found this by the door when I was leaving. You must’ve dropped it.”
She hands me my paper, the one that was due.
“How did you get this?”
“I just told you.” She flings her long, blond hair over her shoulder. “I saw it on the floor when I was walking out. I was going to toss it but then I saw your name on it and thought you might need it.”
“It’s my assignment.” I turn back to Ms. Tate. “I must’ve dropped it on my way into class. I know it’s late, but would you at least consider taking it?”
She takes the paper from me and sets it on her desk. “I will do it this once, but there will be an automatic ten percent deduction from your grade, and if you do it again, it will be an incomplete. No exceptions.”
“Thank you,” I say, with a relieved sigh.
“You should be thanking Aubrey.” She glances at Aubrey. “Now please, move along so I can get to work.”
I follow behind Aubrey as we walk out. When we’re in the hall, I grab her arm and get in front of her. “How’d you get my paper?”
She yanks her arm from me. “Don’t touch me, you filthy bitch!”
“Tell me how you got it!”
Her light blue eyes narrow at me. “When you mess with my boyfriend, you mess with me. Got it, bitch?”
“You did this for Briggs?”
She leans down to me, lowering her voice. “This was just the beginning. Watch your back, Trailer Girl.”
She turns and walks off. I look down the hall and see Briggs coming toward her. They meet up and kiss, then continue down the hall. Briggs looks back at me and gives me a smug grin.
He did this. He took my paper, but how? The only time I wasn’t with my backpack today was when the teacher made me go up to the front of the room to read a scene from a book in AP Lit.
But nobody from Briggs’ inner circle is in that class.
Did he pay someone to do it? I bet he did.
He has the money to do it, but nobody here needs money except me.
But Briggs also has power. He can make people do stuff for him.
They’ll do it in the hopes they’ll get to be his friend, which is really pathetic.
It’s the end of the day, and as I hurry out the door to leave, I bump into a guy standing just outside the building. It’s Calvin, this tech-obsessed guy who’s always in the computer lab writing code. I’ve had some classes with him, but never talked to him. He doesn’t like talking to people.
“Sorry,” I say, going past him.
He doesn’t respond, and I feel him watching me as I continue through the parking lot. He kinda freaks me out because he’s always so quiet and keeps to himself. But he’s been teased and bullied for years, like me, so he probably thinks it’s safer to be a loner and not draw attention to himself.
“Ella!” I hear him say.
I turn around and see him coming toward me, his thin, black hair falling over his forehead. “What do you need?”
“Is there any way you’d um...” He looks down and adjusts his glasses. “Maybe give me a ride?”
“A ride? What happened to your car?”
Like everyone else here, Calvin has a very expensive car. His father created some kind of software that made millions, or maybe even billions. I only know that because I saw his dad being interviewed on the news a few months ago.
“It won’t start,” Calvin says, pointing to the dark blue Ferrari parked in the second row of the parking lot. The Ferrari must be new. He used to drive a Mercedes sedan. He doesn’t seem like someone who would drive a Ferrari. Maybe he thinks it’ll get him girls.
“Did you call an auto service? Maybe they could fix it.”
“I called, but they can’t get here until tonight. And my dad’s out of town.” He scrubs his hand through his hair, making the thin strands get all staticky and stick up. “I need a ride home, but I guess I could just call a rideshare.” He turns and walks away.
Normally, I wouldn’t give a ride to someone I barely know, but I’m pretty sure Calvin is harmless.
And I’m pretty sure if he wasn’t, I could take him down if he tried to attack me.
He’s about as tall as I am and probably weighs less than me.
He’s really scrawny. I think he gets so into writing code that he forgets to eat. I’ve never seen him in the cafeteria.
“Calvin!”
He turns back. “Yeah?”
“I’ll give you a ride.”
“Really?” he says with a hint of suspicion, like he thinks I’m playing some kind of prank on him. The guy’s been bullied so much that he doesn’t trust anyone. And yet he asked me for a ride.
I motion him to follow me. “Come on.”
He runs toward me, an awkward run where his knees come together and his feet swing way out.
I notice people laughing at him. A girl from my French class is pointing at us as she talks to her friend.
I swear, these people need to get a life.
Do they really have nothing better to do than make fun of people?
“It’s open,” I tell Calvin as he stands by my truck. The locks always get stuck, so I don’t bother locking it. It’s not like anyone would try to steal it. It’s twenty years old and has rust everywhere.
“Thanks for doing this,” he says as he tries to put his seatbelt on.
“You have to yank it really hard,” I say, watching him struggle with the seatbelt. I finally just take it from him and pull it over him.
“Thanks,” he mutters, seeming embarrassed. I didn’t mean to embarrass him. I just want to hurry up and leave.
“So where do you live?” I ask, pulling out of the parking space.
“A few miles from here. Turn left out of the parking lot.”
A car pulls in front of me, blocking my way. It’s Parker’s silver Porsche convertible, and behind it is Finn’s shiny white Range Rover.
“Shit,” Calvin mutters, biting his lip.
“What?” I say, glancing at him. “You think I’m letting those assholes block me in?” I roll down my window and yell at Parker. “Move or I’ll run you over!”