Trick Me Twice - Becca Steele Page 0,5

Imogen. “When he crosses the ball to Blount, they’re unstoppable.” Despite his input, Xavier wasn’t actually on the team—for some reason, aka his thing for Imogen, he’d joined the drama club this year. Even though he was a decent player, he’d easily given it up for a chance to prance around on a stage with her. I didn’t get it, but whatever. No one would dare to question him either—his uncle was a huge TV producer, married to a former supermodel, and his whole family always seemed to be hanging out with celebrities. Meaning, everyone at school wanted to suck up to him.

“With Carter running the show, no one can get past us.” Chris, another of my teammates, grinned at me.

As everyone began talking tactics, my mind wandered to my English class. If I didn’t get my shit together, I wouldn’t be running the show for much longer.

3

“You’re quiet. Even more than normal.” My friend, Lena Drummond, peered at me as we sat in front of the large monitors in the computer lab during our free period on Wednesday.

We’d only become friends this term, when we’d been partnered together on a project, in our shared Economics class, and while I kept everyone at arm’s length, there was something about her that I was drawn to. I wished I could let her in, but I found it so difficult to open up. Something I was working on, but the fear of being hurt was always there. The fear of rejection. Carter’s words came to my mind again. Insignificant. Nothing.

Sometimes, I wished Lena’s don’t-give-a-fuck attitude would rub off on me. She was so confident, so uncaring of what people thought of her. Even now, she flouted the strict dress code rules with her heavy eyeliner, black painted nails, and fishnets with boots instead of the usual tights and shoes the rest of us wore. She could get away with it, though, being school royalty. Her family pretty much ran our town, along with the Lowry and Cavendish families. She was untouchable, even to Carter Blackthorne and his friends.

I opened up my file browser, navigating to the folder with my partially completed essay. Next to me, Lena opened up a complicated-looking screen, covered in numbers. “I’m fine.”

She raised a brow at me, clearly not believing my words. “Try saying that more convincingly, and I might believe you.”

“It’s nothing, really. Just a run-in with Carter. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Carter? As in, Carter Blackthorne?”

“Yeah.”

Turning her head to stare at me, she frowned. “Really?”

I nodded.

“What’s his problem with you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” I assured her, refusing to allow my voice to tremble.

“Boys are more trouble than they’re worth,” Lena muttered, almost to herself. “If he gives you any trouble, tell me, okay?”

“I will. Thanks.” Grasping for a change of subject, I gestured at her computer screen. “I don’t get how you understand that.”

“Ha. Numbers are easy to me. Maths, computers, whatever. Give me a needle and thread, though, and I wouldn’t have a clue where to start.”

“You have creative talent, too, though. You have your own style. You always look great. Me, on the other hand?” I pointed to myself. “Well…”

She turned her full attention to me. “That’s because you use your uniform to hide away. To make yourself less noticeable. Me? I don’t give a fuck. I’m not hiding anything.”

I gaped at her. “You noticed that?”

“Raine, no offence, but I had no clue you even existed until this year. You’re a pro at making yourself invisible.”

“I…” What could I even say to that? How could I explain the voices inside my head, constantly telling me that I wasn’t enough? That I hid away so no one would have a chance to hurt me? To make me feel less?

It could be blamed on any number of things—my parents passing away, being shuffled between temporary places before my aunt adopted me, the kids in those places who’d singled me out as an easy target when I’d turned up at their school, an outcast in uniform that never quite fitted. I bore no physical scars from that time, but the emotional ones had taken a lot longer to heal. Wherever the blame lay, I’d learned over the years to keep to myself, and now, that was my comfort zone. I felt safe when I slipped under the radar and stayed in the background. It was my armour, my protection against being hurt.

Lena studied me closely, her lips pursed in thought. “I’ve had an idea.” Her eyes gleamed with