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Paige watched Emily scurry from the locker room. She shut her locker and leaned her head against the door, closing her eyes as her skin pressed into the cool metal.
They had barely spoken since Emily had kissed her cheek on the sidewalk.
I swear, I'll kill whoever made that phone call.
As she hefted her bag over her shoulder, someone called her name.
"Hey, Coach," she said as she faced the speaker, shifting from one foot to the other.
Coach Fulton watched her new swimmer, expression still. "Can I see you in my office, Paige?"
Paige gulped and followed the older woman. Fulton shut the door behind them and urged Paige into a seat.
"What's up?" asked Paige, gripping the bottom of her chair. This is not good. This is not good.
"Paige, you're a fantastic swimmer. We're all really glad to have you on the team."
Paige winced. "But?"
Fulton leaned back and sighed. "But... Paige, your grades are just barely above the minimum required to participate in athletics at this school."
The swimmer nodded slowly as Fulton continued. "Now, you're still allowed to keep swimming, but I don't want to see this continue. I know you're a bright girl, and your teachers seem to think so, too."
"You talked to my teachers?"
"I did. And they think you can do better."
Paige nodded. "I will. I'll do better." She rose from the seat, snatching her bag and darting for the door.
"Great," said Fulton as Paige began to leave. "And you know that if there's anything you ever want to talk about, my door is open."
But the girl was already gone.
She reached her bike, only to find Spencer waiting.
"Hey." Spencer stood in front of her, arms crossed. "What's wrong with Emily?"
Paige took a step back. "I don't know. She hasn't talked to me in a few days."
"Not since you went on that shopping trip." Spencer narrowed her eyes. Her hair trailed in the wind. She tucked it behind her ear. "Did you say something to her?"
"No!" Paige shoved her hands in her pockets and scowled.
Spencer drew herself up to her full height. "I'll say this once," she said. "I don't know what your game is but if you hurt Emily, you'll regret it."
Paige laughed. "Is that what you're worried about? Listen: I would never hurt Emily."
The other girl lowered her hackles, sinking away from her erstwhile opponent. Paige's fingers twisted around a piece of lint in her pocket. Spencer shook her head. "You'll never be able to keep that promise."
"Watch me," Paige snapped, brows furrowed, and the wind nipped at every crease around her eyes. Spencer swelled in front of her, riposte on the tip of her tongue. Paige shook her head and stepped away again. "Sorry," she said. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't yell. But I do mean it. You know her. You know why it's so easy to care about her. I get it."
"She's our Emily," said Spencer. "Mine and Hanna's and Aria's. If you ever break your promise, you'll have to deal with more than just me."
Paige smiled. "I know. But, you know something?"
Spencer arced an eyebrow.
"She doesn't need protecting. Emily's tougher than anyone gives her credit for. Excuse me." She slipped past Spencer to her bike. Her fingers worked the lock. She pulled the bike free. She gave a terse wave and a smile, and biked away.
Spencer stood by the bike rack, watching the new girl disappear. The wind tugged her hair free of her ear. She tucked it back in place, turned on her heel, and strode away.
Emily drummed her fingers on the table and glanced at her phone. Five more minutes. She sipped her coffee and winced. Still just a bit too hot.
Samara slipped into the Brew just on time.
"Emily," she said, smiling. Emily stood and allowed herself to be pulled into a hug.
"What do you want?"
Samara settled down across from her ex. "Can't we just chat for a bit?"
"Samara..." Emily shook her head and drew a deep breath. The other girl sighed.
"Em, we left things so... badly. I don't want that to be the last memory I have of us."
"What do you want me to say? Oh, hi, Samara, how's your week been? What have you been up to?"
Samara leaned back. "Something like that."
"I don't think I can do that." Emily stared at her coffee as it steamed between her fingers. Samara worked the fringe of her scarf.
"Why not?" she asked. "Why would you agree to come if you can't even manage that?"
Emily worked her thumb over the coffee lid. She traced its lines, the text pressed into its surface. Caution.
She lifted her eyes to Samara. "Because for some stupid reason, I still feel like I owe you something."
"I'm the one who owes you an apology. I owe you so many apologies."
"I could fill a pool with your apologies. One more won't change anything."
Samara bounced her legs under the table and her fingers dug into her jeans. "It worked before, Emily. I know I messed up, a lot, but it worked."
"It was falling apart at the seams. I tried to hold it together for so long. I always blamed myself for our fights but you were just as guilty. And I deserve better! I deserve more than you."
Samara's legs stopped bouncing. She lifted a hand and worked it through her hair, eyes distant and lips pressed in a line. "It was the day you met that girl."
Emily reeled back in her seat. "What?"
"I knew there was something going on. I knew it."
"What are you talking about?"
Samara's eyes flashed and her lips pulled into a snarl. "I think you checked out before you ended it. And I think it had a lot to do with that girl you met at the Brew."
Emily's hand shook and her coffee burbled through the cover, running down the side of the cup and over her thumb. "Paige had nothing to do with it," she said, but she could not meet Samara's eyes.
The other girl scoffed. "You've always been a horrible liar. God." She shook her head, fighting back tears. "I'm so stupid. I knew you were a little bit pathetic, Emily. It was kind of cute. But I never thought you'd cheat on me."
"I never-!"
Samara was up from her chair, hauling her bag over her shoulder. "I don't want to hear it." Her blond hair bounced as she shook her head and backed away from the table.
"Samara!" But the other woman had darted from the shop, leaving a bewildered Emily behind.
Pathetic? My own girlfriend thought I was pathetic.
Emily rested her head in one hand and dragged her thumb over the opening of the coffee lid. The thin plastic grated against her skin. She lifted the coffee and took a sip. She grimaced. It had already gone cold.
Paige squinted and rubbed her forehead as she stared down at her open textbook. For all Fulton's reassurances that she was a 'bright girl,' she had made no headway on her most recent assignment.
She leaned back in her chair, balancing on its hind legs. Gravity snaked its fingers about her ankles and shoulders. She fought it off, finding an uneasy equilibrium.
Her phone buzzed and the chair slammed back down onto all four legs. She grunted as her chest struck the edge of the desk.
"Hello?" she grunted.
"Hey," said Emily, voice quavering.
"Em." Paige rubbed her ribs and forced a cheerful tone into her voice. "How are you?"
"Good." There was a pause. "Not good. I saw Samara today."
"Oh. Is she the one who called you the other night?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry about that."
"It's fine." Paige nibbled at the end of her pencil. She drummed it on the edge of the desk. "So?" Emily's breathing, crackling through the speaker, filled her ear. Then the other girl sucked in a sharp breath.
"Do you think I'm pathetic?"
Paige stopped drumming. Her eyebrows dove and a frown worked its way into her lips. "Did she say that?"
Silence. Then: "Yes. And it's true. I am pathetic. It just hurt to hear it from her, you know? I mean, I loved her."
Paige grimaced at the word love. "You're not pathetic. Em, you're so strong."
"You're the only person who says that. The only one. And as much as you try to convince me, I can't believe you. I'm not strong. I let Samara treat me like shit and I let my parents walk all over me. I want to believe you but I can't. I can't stop myself thinking, oh, she's just saying that to be nice."
"I'm not! I wouldn't just say that. That's not the kind of person I am!" Paige scowled. Her voice rose.
"I know!" Emily's voice rose to meet Paige's. "I know that. But it doesn't change anything." Paige bit her lip as Emily choked back a sob on the other end. "I'm sorry," said Emily at last. "I'm sorry. I have to go."
"Emily, wait-" Paige reached out as if to grab the other girl and hold her there, but the line buzzed dead.
She glared at the phone in her hand. Then she jammed it in her pocket and flung open her door. As it slammed into the wall, she thundered down the stairs, barely pausing to yank on her sneakers and fly into the garage.
She jerked her bike upright and sped off down the street. Her anger rippled through her, pulsing beneath her skin with every beat of her heart and contraction of her lungs. She did not notice the cold on her face or her fingers; her mind was clouded.
But as she pedaled, the anger eked out of her. The fog began to lift. She took a deep breath, inhaling the smoky scent of fall. She'd reached the center of town. Her pace slowed. The wind tugged at her hair, peeling wild strands from the confines of her braid.
She ended up at the Apple Rose Grille, her anger and subsequent bike ride having set her stomach to growling. She waited for her take-out order, surveying the other customers: a family enjoying lunch, a blond woman resting her head in her hands, face twisted in concentration as she studied—that's going to be me again, when I get home—and a few of her classmates taking advantage of the beginning of the weekend.
Her name was called and she took her bag and headed out to her bike, fully intending to head home and resume her schoolwork with a clear head.
Then a woman called out from the restaurant behind her. "You're Paige?"
Paige turned around, eyes wide. The blond student stood in front of her, eyes flashing. Paige took a step back. "Sorry?"
"Where do you get off? Do you enjoy wrecking other people's lives?"
"What the hell?" Paige drew herself up, squaring her shoulders against the other woman's onslaught. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about you screwing my girlfriend behind my back."
Shit. Samara.
Paige took a step forward. "I don't know who told you that, Samara, but that never happened."
"Please." Samara held her ground. "I know you have a thing for her. And Emily's hot, so I don't blame you. What I don't get it is why she would cheat on me with an ugly bitch like you."
Paige clenched her fists. "Maybe it makes you feel better to think that. But Emily never cheated on you. She just realized you're a loser who tried to pressure a high schooler into sleeping with you."
Samara scowled. "Get out of my way." She reached out and shoved the other girl.
"Don't touch me," said Paige, shoving her back.
She wasn't sure who swung first, or who shoved who next, but moments later Samara's fist was wrapped up in Paige's braid and Paige's fingers were hooked into Samara's shirt, and they had tumbled into the ground in a flurry of hands and legs and screams.
Someone seized her, hauling her off the blond, and she fought against them. Someone darted to the blond's side to help her up. Paige shook free of the hands that held her, brushing off her clothes; she raised a hand to her lip and felt blood.
A crowd had formed; the group of Rosewood High students had poured out of the Grille and stood with phones raised aloft and cameras recording. She threw a glare at them and snatched her takeout bag from the ground.
Paige grabbed her bike and sped away from the scene before anyone could stop her.
She headed around the house when she got home, dumping the bike in the grass before kicking off her shoes and catapulting herself into the pool, clothes and all. It swallowed her whole, and she sunk to the bottom, bubbles streaming from her nose. She went down, holding her breath as long as she could, until her lungs ached and the animal part of her mind clawed inside her skull, screeching for her to return to the world above.
Paige dragged in the deepest breath of her life as her lips crested the surface. She hauled herself out of the water, wet clothes hanging like so many weights from her frame. The autumn chill needled her as soon as she was out, biting her skin and burrowing into her joints until she shook.
She grabbed her takeout, then flopped across the deck, sopping wet socks slapping the planks with each step, and stumbled into her house. A trail of water followed her down the hall and up the stairs to the bathroom.
The shower was as hot as she could stand, and her skin prickled as it forced life back into her numbed fingers. She stood beneath the spout until her skin was red and her fingers puckered and wrinkled and the water began to run cold.
Her mother was downstairs, shouting at her for the mess she'd made coming inside, but Paige ignored her, shutting herself in her room.
Her pajamas were comfortable. She ate her meal at her desk, only occasionally glancing at her homework. Before she retreated to her bed, she faced herself in her mirror.
Her lip was split, and the skin beneath her left eye had begun to swell. She poked the spot and winced, then poked it again, holding her face as still as possible. That's gonna bruise. She frowned, but a smile itched her cheeks. She'd done much worse to Samara.
Her bruises had gone from bad to worse by the time she arrived at school on Monday. The rumor that she'd beat up a college student had already made the rounds, and anyone who'd doubted the truth of it had their questions answered as she strolled down the hall with her jaw firmly set.
The whispering followed her all day. She ignored it; her thoughts darted to Samara's bruises each time she overheard a hushed voice behind her back. Can't make me feel guilty about something that I'm proud of.
She avoided the cafeteria at lunch, instead seeking out an isolated part of the courtyard and burying her nose in her still-incomplete homework.
It would remain incomplete. Just as she cracked open her book, Emily and the other three girls swarmed her.
"Oh my god, your face," said Hanna.
"Are you okay?" asked Emily.
"Did you really beat up Samara?" asked Aria.
"I hope you wrecked her," said Spencer.
They all spoke at the same time. Paige closed her book and blinked. "Whoa, slow down. One at a time, please."
Emily glanced at the others then stepped forward to sit beside Paige. "Are you okay?" she asked again.
Paige nodded. "I'm fine." Hanna fussed over her for a moment, offering to cover up the bruises as best she could, but Paige refused.
"Why?" asked Emily. She wasn't talking about the makeup. Paige bit her lip and fought back the wince as she remembered why the action hurt so much.
"Who cares why?" said Spencer. Paige turned her attention to the hawkish girl, raising an eyebrow.
"Did I win your approval, Spence?"
The other girls' all glanced between Paige and Spencer, eyes wide and confused. Spencer crossed her arms. "In this one instance, yes. I think she probably deserved it and I hope she looks just as awful."
Paige grinned and gave a thumbs up.
After a few more rounds of questions, Spencer led Hanna and Aria away. Emily hung behind. She glanced to her friends' retreating backs, then scooted closer to Paige, gripping Paige's knee.
"Are you really okay?" she asked. "You're allowed to be a mess in front of me."
Paige stared at the hand on her knee. Half of her brain was screaming at her to take that hand in her own. The other half had her glancing towards the exit in fear. They met in the middle, and she met Emily's eyes with her own.
Did she exhale? Did she shatter along every nerve, as though a wedge had been driven into her spine? If her tongue had not been so thick, she would have sworn the words oh my god hissed through her teeth. She swallowed.
"I'm sorry," she said, and it was all she could say. Her face burned and she hung her head.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," said Emily. "I wasn't happy to hear what you did. It's... that's kind of scary stuff, Paige."
Paige's heart gave a painful lurch and froze in her chest. If not for the veins and arteries suspending it, it might have fallen into her gut like a rock.
"But," continued Emily, and Paige lifted her eyes again. "I get why you did it. Thank you for... for caring so much about me."
She shook her head and stood up before Paige could speak again, and the bell rang as she did. "Come find me later, okay? Give me a call." Emily bit her lip, color flooding her cheeks as she stared down at the bruised girl.
Then she was gone.
Paige made it to her next class, though it was all a blur. Come find me later? What does that mean?
She was so deep in the puzzle that she almost missed her name crackling over the PA system.
"Paige McCullers, please report to the Vice-Principal's office..."
The voice died with a click, and every set of eyes in the classroom turned to her.
The whispers began again before she'd leaned down to grab her things. They built as she stepped down the aisles, rising as she crossed the threshold into the hall. She heard the teacher snap at the class to settle down as she began to walk.
Her steps echoed in the hallway. She was alone. Each time she passed a classroom, she felt its occupants' stares.
In her own classroom, Emily stared out the open door. The announcement rattled in her head. Paige McCullers, Paige McCullers... the girl in question walked past, and Emily sucked in a breath. Her hands gripped the book in front of her as though it might anchor her in place. If she could remember how to move her legs, she thought she might have darted after her.
Paige found the office. Mona ushered her towards the door.
"Have a seat, Miss McCullers," said Vice-Principal Hackett. She stepped through and took the one available seat, right between her parents.
A/N: You finish reading the new chapter. They haven't made out yet and that makes you sad.
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