when I saw maggots in my lap. First my morning with Stephanie and now this. I lost it.
I looked up at Rogue, as tears pricked at the corner of my eyes. I debated on getting up and running away. I should have. But courage was a fickle thing, making itself known in those moments when pride and rage shook hands and poured gasoline on the situation. I stood up, trash slipped off my skin at the movement. Then, I glared at Rogue, who looked like a complex mix of annoyance, fury, and…stress. So he wanted to get off with another girl here? Good luck.
I meant to tackle him, but when I lunged at him, that fucking blend of muscle memory and hope bled through my pores. I wrapped my arms around his rigid middle instead, getting the nasty trash all over his body. “Fuck you, Rogue Kelly.” I whispered.
For a moment, he didn’t push me off, he just let me hug him for the exact amount of time it took me to exhale the sadness balled up like a fist in my chest.
When he did shove me away, it was a cruel sort of push that sent me soaring towards the ground. My ass landed on the concrete with a thud, and I cried out in pain as he wiped off his shirt. “You nasty ass Trash Whore,” he snapped.
I heard footsteps from behind me, and since I didn’t want to see whatever beautiful girl he would be spending time with, I got up and ran. I ran past the sadness. Past the sharp pain in my tailbone. Past the sound of Rogue’s laugh and my breaking heart, and went straight to the gym showers.
Chapter Three
After I washed off, I visited the nurse for the second time. She gave me a sympathetic smile before handing me her last pile of clothes. I wondered if I needed to start leaving spares up there. I didn’t go to class. There was no point. So instead, I went to the one place that still brought me happiness.
The gym was my safe space. It was where your last name didn’t matter, and the only thing that you had to bring to the mat was your body. It was where it didn’t matter who you were or how much your daddy made. Hard work trumped status here.
Gymnastics was my favorite thing in the world. Mama signed me up as a kid because I’d had so much energy. As a kid, I constantly chased after the guys and climbed the walls. She wanted an outlet, so she signed me up for monthly lessons. Then, it became twice a week. Then daily. She had no idea it would become my obsession. Sometimes, I wondered if she ever regretted signing me up in the first place.
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Coach Michaels said from his office. He didn’t bother to get up from his desk, which was covered in papers, gum wrappers, and sequined leotards. I walked closer to him while adjusting my messenger bag higher on my back. His eyes roamed over my busted lip, but he must have decided it wasn’t worth his time to question me, because he didn’t say anything about it. It wasn’t the first time a teacher decided to overlook a problem at this fucked up school. He glanced at the clock. “You should be in class.”
“Hey, Coach,” I said sheepishly as I walked forward.
We were one of the few schools in the state with a gymnastics program, mostly because we were one of the only places with a tuition high enough to afford it.
Coach Michaels was one of the few adults I actually respected. He was a hardass and had no problem telling the obsessed mamas that liked to start cat fights in the bleachers to shut the fuck up and sit down. He was ruthless, demanding, and one of the best gymnastic coaches in the country. Only the best for Smith Academy.
“Your mama know you’re here? Wouldn’t want her to worry about your delicate figure,” Coach Michaels said with a distasteful sneer. He was also one of the only teachers here that didn’t kiss her ass.
Mama made me quit gymnastics before I started senior year. I couldn’t prove it, but part of me wondered if it was punishment for ruining my good thing with the Heirs. She always prided herself on my connection with the elite people of this town. She gave me a bunch of excuses, though. She