Chapter 2: Bad idea

    Chapter Two: Bad idea

    It had been barely twenty minutes since I arrived at school, and someone was already yelling at me. As if it were my fault that they decided not to use the pavement and chose the pedestrian path.

    At the entrance, I was taken aback by the poster of the school hockey team, the *Velmont Sharks*.

    It featured a group photo of six hockey players and their coach, all wearing huge smiles for winning the Stanley Cup three years ago. That win did great things for our town; it basically put Velmont on the map. Despite being a town of farmers and bikers, it was known by the world as a town of hockey.

    Three recruits from our school played exceptionally during the playoffs. It went viral online—we had memes, posters, everything leading back to our tomato-bearing Velmont.

    I sighed, making my way to my locker, when I suddenly felt someone slam into me, and I crashed against the locker. Pain reverberated through my body, and I bit my lip to deal with it.

    It took only a waft of her intoxicating perfume for me to guess who it was—Emilia Davidson, my school bully and arch-nemesis. She towered over me with a smirk, showcasing her dimpled chin and forest green eyes that stared daggers at me.

    As if being in school were the last place she would see me in this small town of two thousand people.

    "Guess what the shark dragged in—the mute dumbass, Lyric Spencer," she taunted, venom coating her every word. It is a tradition in Velmont to use "shark" in place of other popular nouns. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her shoulder. Emilia is the campus belle of our school, with her olive skin and round, gorgeous face. She is the postcard of beauty and arrogance.

    Her backup, Ruffina and Cindy, who are shorter, took a stance poorly imitating her dominance.

    My eyes immediately found the floor; I knew the drill. I couldn't stand up to these girls when I couldn't even talk. Even if I did anything, I would lose my scholarship, and that would mean no nineteen glory for me.

    I refused to give Millie—Emilia—that.

    In an instant, I lowered my head in apology, my fingers pressing against my index finger to control my anger. Even if I got angry, I couldn't do anything to Emilia. I couldn't.

    "Did you say something?" Emilia asked, flaunting her French-manicured nails in my direction. She broke into laughter. "Oh, I forgot you can't talk."

    As if on cue, everyone in the hall burst into laughter; the joke was old and not even funny. But if Emilia said it, then it was hilarious.

    Instead of staying, I reached into my locker to grab my books from last year, which I kept in case those triplets got snooping in my bag again.

    That was how I lost a biology book I got from the library. To this day, the librarian hates me for bringing the book back in pieces.

    I nodded my head to apologize again and started to leave. Suddenly, pain spread through my body when she pulled on my short hair, which I had forgotten to wash that morning. It was staggering back; tears filled my eyes as I struggled to search for a teacher.

    It was hopeless, though. Emilia was the mayor's daughter. The mayor happened to be the principal of this school, the only college in Velmont that gave me a scholarship. No one would come to my rescue.

    I could only swallow down my pain rather than punch her in the throat like I wanted to. I didn't even know why she hated me this much.

    "When I am talking to you, don’t fucking walk away," she said, holding my hair tighter, and I felt like my scalp was on fire. I tried to peel her hands off, but Ruffina slapped them down.

    "Let go of my best friend."

My shoulders sagged in relief upon hearing that. My best friend, Wren Evergreen, came to my rescue. She pushed Emilia away and held me against her bosom as if I were a kid. Her perfume engulfed me as I took in her clothing: a bright red, above-knee-length dress and giant gold hoop earrings. Her hair was professionally done into a beautiful braid I could only find on P*******t.

    As always, my bestie was overdressed. Wren loves dressing up, even to sleep. Meanwhile, I felt like Selena Gomez in my button-up shirts and blue jeans.

    "Wow, do you step out of a catalog, Wren?"

    "How did you know? It was one of those your father's underage whores love to keep around. Emilia!"

    That response elicited a gasp from the entire school. Unlike me, Wren's father was wealthy and a huge investor at the school, so she didn’t have to walk on eggshells around Queen Bee to keep her scholarship.

    If I had her life for a day, I would rub Emilia's face in the ground and make her beg for my mercy. I loathed her and every other bully and supporter of hers in this school.

    Breaking out of her tongue tie, Emilia thumped her designer shoes on the ground, her face red with anger. She seethed, "You watch out, Evergreen."

    "And you too, Davidson!" Wren snapped back, narrowing her eyes. She was pissed and not trying to hide it. I could only imagine what she was thinking of doing to Emilia.

    Whatever it was, mine was worse. Probably a felony, and I would be awarded jail time for smacking her into unconsciousness with her ten-inch heels.

    "Babe," she called me fondly, her eyes searching my face, "Why do you let that insect on long legs treat you like that?"

    I avoided her gaze because she knew why. I knew why. Apart from the scholarship, Wren knew it was more than that.

    I secretly hoped Emilia would never know why. She would despise me even more and might even kill me just to exact revenge. At my height of five-five and Wren's five-eight, I looked like her younger sister, even though I was older by three months.

    "Won't you answer me?" she purred, fiddling with the rabbit-ear case of her iPhone. I bet it's the latest version.

    << You know why. I need this scholarship >> I signed back.

    Wren sighed. She wrapped her arm around mine, squeezing me into a hug. "I miss you."

    Before I could sign back, my heart skipped a beat at the sight of Gavin Hawkins. I could feel the rush of blood to my heart, and my head started to spin at the sight of him. All six of the hottest hockey players in our school walked side by side, chatting and playfully punching each other. But my eyes were only for Gavin.

    Everyone was stuck on them.

    Gavin, aka "the wall," is the goalie of our school hockey team. At six-five, he looked like heaven from down here. I found myself drooling whenever he ran a hand through his golden wavy hair.

    I had a crush on him since the first day of freshman year when he bumped into me in the school gym. Although he only apologized in a hurry, I still remembered the way he sounded.

    Gavin Hawkins is one of the reasons I get excited to come to school every day. He is a senior; this will be my last year of seeing him, and I might just have to make the most of it by gawking like a fool in the school hallway.

    Ouch.

    I was startled when Wren pinched me in the arm. Her stepbrother is part of the hockey team, the captain. I glared at her, and she laughed. "Don't start drooling again."

    Hence, she is immune to all their hockey hotness. She sees them every day and says they sweat like pigs on fire.

    I sighed, clearly swooning. << He is perfect. >>

    "Go talk to him already," she urged me with a push toward his direction. My steps came to an abrupt halt, and my pupils went wide.

    Talk to him?

    Did she mean sign or text?

    Who would be dumb enough to engage with someone who can't speak? He had a list of speaking girls who were hotter and smarter.

    Bad idea!

    "Hey, don’t look at me. This is their last year, so if you don’t tell him your feelings quickly, you might miss this chance forever. Gavin is a prodigy; he will be recruited by the NHL by the end of the year and will become a star player. Don’t you want to say you kissed him?"

    Butterflies filled my stomach at the image of my lips on his. I had never kissed anyone, but I heard it was wet. I wouldn't mind if it were with Gavin.

    Although her idea was tempting, I wouldn't risk the embarrassment and rejection by engaging in any conversation with him.

    Nineteen might mean better, but Gavin is a never.