9. Margo
Chapter 9
Margo
Caleb
When you wear that skirt, I’m tempted to haul you into a supply closet and taste you again. But this time, with my face between your legs instead of my fingers.
T he text is waiting for me when I check my phone at lunch. It’s only one day after Caleb’s, um, visit .
I resolve to wear pants for the rest of the week. It’s getting colder out, especially in the mornings. It wouldn’t be a leap to make an argument against the skirts hanging in my closet.
Besides the text, he’s been completely ignoring me.
Acting like nothing happened.
It was enough this morning that I did a double take. He didn’t do anything crazy to me in the courtyard before school, even though Riley and I were prepared. Savannah preened nearby, but he stuck close with his three friends.
Maybe it’s not just me he’s ignoring, but everyone else?
Riley and I decided to venture into the lunchroom. Another oddity of the week. We find a table in a back corner, and someone else from one of Riley’s classes joins us. They’re not really with us, although they look nice enough. They introduced themselves as Jacq. Even in the uniform—pants and a loose-fitting shirt—their style is instantly clear. Buzzed, bleach-blonde hair, oversized, pink-framed glasses, and glitter highlighter spread across the tops of their cheeks. I’d imagine outside of the uniform their wardrobe is even more impressive.
“You used to be friends with that?” Riley points with her spoon toward Savannah.
She sits with her cheerleader friends at a table in the center of the room, taking up as much space and noise as possible. Today’s a game day, which means the football players are wearing their jerseys and the cheerleaders are in their uniforms. They stand out against the monotonous sea of white shirts.
“Um, yeah, when I was like nine.”
Jacq laughs. “Bad choice, dude.”
Riley nods. “I’ve got to agree. You had poor taste as a nine-year-old.”
“Well, I was friends with Caleb, too.”
“Like, friends -friends? Or, you went to the same school and kind of knew each other?—”
“Definitely friends-friends. I don’t want to talk about that.” I can’t get into the whole complex thing right now. Not when we’re surrounded by enemies.
Enemies who are also called classmates.
Jacq makes a face, but Riley must suddenly be reminded of an earlier conversation. This morning, I whispered to her what happened.
I couldn’t keep it to myself. I mean, I don’t know what the fuck to do. I gave him a terrible blow job, and he decides it’s the best he’s had?
Okay, he didn’t quite say it that way.
But it wasn’t bad enough to warn him off…
And what was Riley’s first question, you ask? Did you use teeth?
I should’ve.
“Have you come up with a plan?” she asks now.
“A plan for a diabolical mind-fuck of Caleb Asher? Yes, yes I have.” I make them wait a minute before I say, “I need to find a boyfriend.”
Silence.
Shock.
“What? Who?”
Jacq laughs again, but quieter. To themselves.
I shrug. “I’m not too picky. I just need someone to hold my hand and maybe kiss me… Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Who’s kissing you?” Caleb asks from directly behind me.
I nearly jump out of my skin. But I guess that explains Riley’s weird expression.
Jacq suddenly grabs their stuff and moves down to the far end of the table, which we can totally blame on Caleb’s negative energy.
Caleb drops down beside me, like this isn’t unusual or weird. I survived all morning. Even our first class together, nothing. The back of my neck didn’t burn with his usual glare.
But now? He drapes his arm over my shoulders and winks at Riley.
“Earth to Margo.” He taps my temple. “Anyone home?”
I grimace and try to inch away from him. I should know by now that it’s useless.
“We almost made it a full day,” I say to Riley, sighing heavily.
“Aw, you noticed.” Caleb smirks. “I’m flattered. Have you met Savannah?”
I pause and meet his gaze. He seems… Well, not angry, which is a change in and of itself. But maybe mischievous?
My chest tightens, and my stomach does a somersault. “You’re not serious.”
“I’m dead serious. Excuse us, Appleton.”
He lifts me out of my seat like I weigh nothing. I dig my heels in, but it’s even worse than at his house. Here, my feet just slide across the polished tile, until I finally give in and stumble forward.
He guides me to the table where Savannah reigns over the other cheerleaders. I’ve noticed that she doesn’t sit with the hockey guys. The team groups together at one long table, and there are no other girls there.
Wonder if that’s an unspoken rule?
“Savannah, sweetie.” Caleb draws all of the eyes. Every last one. “You were out last week, you must’ve missed the news: our old friend Margo has returned.”
Like she didn’t see me for the first part of the week?
Savannah faces us, her body stiff. Her expression is carefully blank, but flickering under the surface is intense rage. And judging by the way Caleb leans into my side, he sees it, too.
He’s not stupid. He knows what he’s doing.
“Savannah,” Caleb prompts.
“Welcome back,” Savannah answers in a voice that—well, it’s downright frozen. And insincere.
If I ever wanted to stab someone with a pencil more than Caleb, it’d be her.
“I’m sure you’d love to catch up with Margo, right?” he continues.
I shake my head, but his fingers dig into my arm. A silent warning that kills my voice.
“Of course.” She feigns a frown and eyes the packed table. “Oh, but there’s no room at our table. Maybe next time, Margo, okay?”
Caleb sighs, and I have to remind myself that this is an act. However sincere he appears—he’s lying . He seems to have perfected the art of war while I’ve been gone.
He sighs again and says, “Ah, you’re right. It’s okay. Margo can come sit with me.” He jerks his chin toward the boys-only hockey table.
Savannah pales.
“No.” She glances around the table. “Stephanie, move over.”
“There’s no?—”
“Move.”
The girl, who could be a freshman, stares at Savannah and tries to stop her chin from wobbling. It doesn’t work, and Savannah’s mean-girl act clearly gets the best of the underclassman. She gets up and runs out of the cafeteria, chased by laughter.
Caleb is feeding me to the sharks.
“I hate you,” I say under my breath.
He just hums over a broad smile.
“Sit.” Savannah points at the empty seat at the end of the table. “God knows you didn’t earn it.”
I wait for Caleb to let go of me.
He watches Savannah, his head cocked. “Savannah, sweetie, how are you supposed to welcome Margo when she’s so far away?”
Silence.
Savannah’s face pinkens, and the color slowly deepens into a red flush. She nods to the girls across from her, who all dutifully slide down a seat. Leaving the one directly across from Savannah open.
Caleb releases me one finger at a time. After a long moment of me standing beside him untethered, he gives me a push. I stumble forward, toward the empty chair.
“I’m so glad you two are getting reacquainted,” he says. “See you later.”
“See you,” Savannah replies, even though Caleb’s eyes don’t leave mine.
I don’t answer, just sit between two girls. A hush falls over the table as Caleb leaves, and I almost stand and bolt.
“Don’t you dare,” Savannah snaps. She reaches across the table and grabs my wrist. “You get up and then what?”
I snatch my wrist away and lean back. “Who, exactly, do you think you are?”
Ex-friend or not, I don’t want her touching me.
She shakes out her wheat-blonde hair. “Me? I’m not the one who stomped in here thinking she could slip right back into her old role?—”
“And what role is that, exactly?” I put my elbows on the table. “I was never mean to you. I didn’t try to step on anyone’s toes?—”
“Oh, bullshit, Margo.” She flips her hair over her shoulder, taking a moment to compose herself.
I press my lips together. The eyes of most of our classmates are on us right now. Whether or not they can hear our conversation is anyone’s guess, but the rumors will be flying in no time.
Across the room, Riley and Jacq watch with sympathetic expressions. They still didn’t manage to stop Caleb from putting me in this mess, though.
“You want to know what your role is, Margo? You want to steal Caleb away from me!”
I laugh.
It’s ridiculous.
“I don’t want him.” My volume is inching up, matching her escalating crazy. “I don’t want anything to do with him. But that doesn’t negate the fact that I had him first .”
She gasps.
Okay, everyone gasps.
And then her eyes narrow. “You fucked him over, Margo, and then you left.”
I didn’t have a choice . And I certainly don’t have a retort.
I get up from the table. “You know what, Sav? You have nothing to worry about. You can have him.”
I walk away, and a little voice in my head chants, Liar, liar, liar .
Riley follows me into the hallway, her eyes wide. She loops her arm through mine, and we leave without a word. It isn’t until we reach the locked doors that will admit us into the academic wings that we both blow out slow breaths.
We’re the first ones here, although some students loiter farther down the hall.
“ That is why we avoid the cafeteria,” she says. “Agreed?”
I bump my fist against hers. “Agreed. Yikes.”
She barks out a laugh. “ Yikes is right. I don’t think that could’ve got more awkward.”
Slowly, the hallway fills. And by the time the bell rings and the doors open, we barely have room to move.
Riley keeps ahold of my hand and elbows someone out of her space, and we make it to the hallway that has both of our lockers in it. Someone slams their shoulder into mine, knocking me into the lockers. I yelp, but the cheerleader—clearly the culprit—doesn’t even glance at me as she passes.
A second later, another one snags my fallen bookbag with her foot, kicking it across the floor. Papers and books go flying.
Riley gasps. “What the hell? Are you okay?”
I force myself to laugh, even when a lump forms in my throat. I should’ve automatically expected retaliation. I wasn’t born yesterday.
We dart between students to grab my scattered things. By the time Riley and I have gathered everything, the hallway is deserted.
“Shit. We’re going to be late.” She glances at her watch.
“Go,” I tell her. “I… Honestly, I’d rather just—I should’ve expected her to do something. Didn’t think it would happen this quick, though.”
She squints at me. “What happened?”
“I didn’t do anything.” I sigh. “I’ve told you everything I know. I would’ve mentioned if I had a vendetta against Savannah or… Ah, fuck.”
Caleb and his crew saunter down the hall in our direction. Theo and Liam are in front, arguing about something. Their heads are turned in, toward each other, and they pass us without pausing.
I blow out the slightest breath.
Eli catches Riley’s arm mid-step, pulling her along with him. She lets out a squeak, but he doesn’t relent. She throws me an apologetic look, right before they round a corner and disappear from sight.
And Caleb has stopped beside me.
“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” He raises one eyebrow. “The showdown?”
“No.”
He leans in like a co-conspirator. “You’re not going to thank me?”
“We both know all you did was open a can of worms for me.” I stuff the last of my papers in my bag. “Before, it was just you. Now it’s you and them , and then it’ll be everyone else, too. People love to gang up on the weak one.”
He straightens, his eyes wide. “Excuse me?”
“You didn’t want the cheerleaders to hate me?”
“I wanted you to stand up to Sav. And prove that you’re not the fucking weak one.”
Once I start laughing, it’s hard to stop. Oh, the nerve of this boy . “That’s not how this works. What do you mean I’m not the weak one? You’ve spent the last few weeks proving?—”
“If you were weak, you’d be bowing at my feet every time I passed you.” He touches my cheek, once, fleeting. “But you don’t. Which makes it all the more interesting. I don’t really give a fuck. Not about your social standing, and not about her. You’re interesting. She was… but now she isn’t.” He lifts one shoulder. “This isn’t personal.”
Oh, how I hate him.
I give him my best glare, but it ricochets off his armor.
“You do give a fuck,” I say quietly, going in another direction. “About me.”
“About your mouth, certainly.” He smirks. “Tell me… how wet were you after I left?”
I open and close my mouth. I am not going down that road with him—no way. But he doesn’t seem to care at my lack of an answer. He knows something I don’t, judging by his smug expression.
“What?” I demand.
“Nothing.”
“And how did you get my number?”
He grins. “Ah, you did get my text. I got it from your friend.”
“Riley?”
We’re still just standing in the middle of the empty hall. He seems to register it at the same time I do, because we both jump into motion. I keep glancing at him, waiting for his answer, but it doesn’t come. And when I lag, he reaches for me. His fingers slide under my hair, to the back of my neck.
I shiver, but I don’t fight him off.
After Savannah, and arguing…
Maybe I should keep fighting or pushing for answers. Or ask if Riley really gave him my number, knowing what she knows.
We reach my classroom door, and he stops just before it.
“What are you doing?”
Quick as a snake, he uses his body to back me against the wall. From where we stand, no one in the classroom can see us. The window in the door is useless, and it happens too fast for me to avoid it.
One minute… walking. The next, pressed to the wall, a hair’s breadth from touching him. It’s a wonder I don’t get freaking whiplash.
“Answer my question,” he demands.
I focus on his throat instead of his eyes. I can’t even remember the question. Instead of admitting that, though, I remain silent.
His hand trails up my arm, the column of my throat, and captures my chin between his fingers. He jerks my head up and down, then side to side. “Yes or no. You should’ve learned that in kindergarten.”
“If I didn’t, it was because you were too damn busy distracting me?—”
His fingers tighten, and I suppress a yelp of pain.
He leans in close. “What did you say?”
“We used to be friends,” I say to his ear. It’s all I can bear to look at. And once this word vomit starts, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. “You used to be nice. I was taken from my family, and you turned into?—”
“Taken away?” he asks, his voice incredulous. “Is that what you call it?”
I meet his stare. “What would you call it?”
“I’d say you threw a goddamn grenade into our lives, Margo. And you never thought about the casualties.”
He releases me, stepping back like I’m on fire. I can’t even move as he takes three long strides to the classroom door— my classroom door —and yanks it open. He disappears inside, and it clicks closed softly behind him.
Now he’s in another of my classes?
And he thinks… No, of course he blames me.
I sink to the floor, wrapping my arms around my legs. But I was ten years old. Had I known the ripple effect that was going to be set off, I wouldn’t have?—
Please don’t , his voice whispers in my ear. The younger version of him.
I hang my head, the answer for his anger finally in front of me.
It’s my fault. It’s always been my fault.