The girls’ restroom in a high school is the equivalent of a warzone.
Half the girls are trash talkers…the other half are targets.
And the handful who don’t fit into the above boxes are casualties—they neither want to participate in drama nor defend it.
They just want to pee in peace.
Usually, I’m a casualty. But not today.
Today, I’m the girl who has a target on her back the size of Texas.
All because Oakley had to open his stupid mouth and tell everyone we slept together. Which was pretty shitty of him considering he was the one who asked me to keep quiet about him greeting me with a hard-on.
“I mean, seriously,” some girl on the other side of the bathroom stall utters. “Who sleeps with their freaking cousin? So gross.”
I grit my teeth as I finish my business in the stall.
“I heard she’s new,” another girl chimes in. “Maybe she’s from one of those hillbilly states?”
I roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised I don’t go blind. I don’t know what pisses me off more. The stereotypes, or the fact that she referred to me as new.
“I think you guys are being a little too hard on her,” a third girl interjects.
Hope springs eternal…until she finishes her sentence.
“Oakley’s hot. And before you two roast me—I know he’s a pothead and going nowhere in life…but cousin or not, I wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to jump his bones on the lowdown if I was given the chance either.”
Ew. It’s a good thing I’m near a toilet.
Laughter echoes off the walls.
“Don’t worry, Gina,” one of them assures her. “I’m sure you’ll have your chance soon. He passes that big stoner dick of his around like candy on Halloween whenever him and Hayley breakup.”
More obnoxious laughter.
Jesus. They’re so good at gossiping and judging, they should consider starring in a reality T.V. show.
I’m about to walk out and put an end to their little chit-chat, but the next sentence halts me in my tracks.
“Speaking of couples—what’s the deal with Jace and Britney?”
“I don’t know,” someone says with a sigh. “I think Brit-Brit finally snagged her man for the long haul. They were awfully close this morning.”
The tiny hairs on the back of my neck prickle. They sure were.
“Nah, I don’t believe it. Everyone knows Jace Covington doesn’t do relationships…not even with popular girls like Britney.”
Considering how they were kissing and flirting this morning, that’s a bit…strange.
I tuck this newfound kernel of information away for safekeeping.
“True.” I hear the rustling of paper towels. “At least there’s Cole. He’s no Jace, but he’s the closest any of us will get.”
Ugh. These girls are terrible.
“I’ll happily take Cole as a consolation prize.” She giggles. “Heck, if he wasn’t a junior, or such a player, he’d probably be a better catch than Jace.”
“Tru—”
The look of surprise on their faces tells me I caught them off guard.
“It’s the cousin fucker,” one of them—from the sounds of it, Gina—whisper-shouts.
They stare at me with wide eyes, but I keep my demeanor impassive as I walk over to the sink to wash my hands.
“I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you with Oakley…given we’re so close and all.”
Their expressions change from curious to horrified.
Some people run and hide at the first sign of a scandal. Not me.
I prefer to confront the jerks responsible for spreading rumors head-on. See what they’re really made of underneath all their hair extensions, push-up bras, and makeup.
“We’re late for class,” the tall blonde declares before they make a mad dash for the door.
Shocking.
People rarely have the balls to say the shit they spew behind your back to your face.
