Eleven

M:

Last week seemed to flash by, with everyone droning on and on about the fight that went down at the basketball court.

It was also big news that Kevin had been suspended and stripped of his captain's badge, which meant a new one was going to be appointed in the coming weeks.

Remington and her friend had gotten a week of detention. The bruises on their faces were still evident, but they seemed to be healing quickly.

Speaking of the devil—I followed her when I saw her heading into the locker room, likely to change for practice. I did what I always did: burst through the doors and startled her.

I enjoyed that very much.

"If it isn't the mixed-race freak," I started, my tone harsh as I crossed my arms to assert my dominance.

She chuckled. I raised a brow, wondering what was suddenly so funny.

Did I have something on my face?

She had a suspicious smirk on her face as she began taking slow, wide steps toward me. "How original. What do you want this time? A hug? Or perhaps you'd prefer a kiss?"

I did a double-take, my cheeks turning warmer than usual for some reason.

What was this?

"Ew. I wouldn't even want to touch you, let alone kiss you," I spat, though my voice lacked its usual venom.

I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of knowing she'd rattled me.

She brought her hand to her chest in faux agony. "You wound me. Here I was thinking you had a crush on me—considering you just won't leave me alone."

My eye twitched.

"Shut the fuck up," I snapped, pointing a finger at her threateningly. "I know you're hiding something, and I'll find out what it is. Sooner or later."

She didn't flinch. She was standing directly in front of me now, forcing me to look up. I cursed my height—or lack thereof—as she loomed over me.

Then, she did the unthinkable.

She took the finger I was pointing at her and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the knuckle before stepping back.

I was frozen. My stomach did a weird, nauseating flip that felt suspiciously like butterflies.

Disgusting.

When I finally snapped out of it, I stomped over and wiped my finger on her shirt.

"Don't ever try that again," I glared, flipping my hair in her face as I stormed out. My heart was busy being a traitor.

Already dressed in my cheer uniform, I made my way to the basketball court. The gym bleachers were packed for the captaincy(?) match.

Apparently, the school didn't have anything better to do than watch boys (and one girl) sweat and shove each other for a ball.

"Have you seen Remi around?" Heather asked the moment I sat down.

"Do I look like her keeper? What's with you and her lately?" I shot back. Heather's cheeks turned pink, and I felt an unnecessary spike of irritation.

"No reason! I'm just a concerned classmate," she mumbled.

"Whatever." I scanned the court. I saw Remington talking to Michael, who eventually put an arm around her.

She laughed, and for a split second, I thought...Cute. I immediately wanted to scrub my brain with steel wool.

Then I saw the rest of the cheer squad. They were chanting Remington's name, wearing shirts with her face on them.

My blood boiled and I glared at her until she felt it. She mouthed 'What?' at me, but I just rolled my eyes and looked away.

From my seat in the bleachers, I watched their coach begin to speak. I had no idea what he was saying over the noise of the room, but I tried reading his lips to catch any sort of information.

After intensely staring, I connected the dots: he was talking about the game they were about to play.

Useful intel, I know.

Later on, they were dismissed and settled into two groups. Remington was with Michael and three other guys whose names I'd never bothered to learn.

I glanced at the other team and scoffed.

Trevor Harrington.

The biggest asshole of the century, right after Kevin. I didn't even bother looking at his teammates; they barely piqued my interest.

Suddenly, the room fell silent. I looked back at the court and saw Remington and Trevor on either side of the coach. He held out the back of his hand with something on it.

It was a coin.

He flipped it and slapped it onto his other hand. I guessed Remington won the toss because the coach turned to her.

"I wish I could hear what's going on," Heather said beside me. I was wishing the same thing.

I hummed, eyes still locked on the court. Trevor stepped closer to Remington and said something, that signature smirk plastered on his face. I really don't see what the other girls see in him; they could do so much better.

Remington told him something that made him nod.

Then, her blank expression twisted into a smirk. She said something that made him look down before she flicked his nose. The bleachers erupted in laughter—I even snorted a little.

Heather's head snapped in my direction with a questioning look, but I quickly covered the sound with a cough.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing, nothing at all," she shrugged, returning to her conversation with one of our teammates. I let out a quiet sigh of relief.

The time went by slowly as the teams discussed their plays. I was already feeling bored, but I had to push through. The loud blast of a whistle broke me out of my thoughts.

I adjusted in my seat as the coach gestured for the teams to take their places.

Remington and Trevor met him at center court.

"Alright! I want a clean game here. If I get a whiff of foul play, you're out!" His voice boomed, shocking me with how quickly the room had gone quiet. He threw the ball high into the air and jogged off.

Trevor caught the ball and started making his way toward the opposing side. He was fast, but Remington was quick to shadow him.

Even if he tried scoring, I doubted it would go in. The person guarding the net stood tall; it would be near impossible.

Trevor's attention shifted to a teammate, but as he went to pass, the ball was snatched mid-air.

Remington Alvarez.

She moved down the court like no one else was on it. I'd never seen her play like this; it was actually a surprise.

Trevor followed, trying to steal it back, but she never let it happen. She passed to a teammate who took off instantly.

Later, my eyes trailed back to Remington as she jogged over to Michael, who was now drenched in sweat.

Ew.

They began whispering, and I could tell everyone was trying to eavesdrop. She let him go with a pat on the shoulder, and he ran to another teammate to relay the plan.

Suddenly, they were all running—nodding at each other, executing a play that left me (and likely their opponents) totally confused. I looked around and saw how invested everyone was.

The noise wasn't as bad now; you could only hear the uneven squeak of sneakers against the polished floor.

I looked at Heather. Her eyes were bouncing from place to place, following a specific someone.

A chorus of groans broke my train of thought.

Trevor and one of his teammates looked disheveled. Remington had the ball again, guarded by two teammates.

Suddenly, she found an opening and performed a layup I didn't recognize. The bleachers went silent for a beat before the crowd went wild.

I stood up with everyone else, clapping briefly before heading for the exit.

"Where are you going? The game's just starting," Heather called out.

I turned back. "I can't destroy my bladder for a game of basketball, Heather." She nodded slowly, her attention already snapping back to the court.

As I walked toward the entrance, I looked back one last time. Remington had a massive smile on her face as her teammates flocked around her. I shook my head with a small smile and exited.

The hallways were empty; it felt like half the school was at that game. I reached the girls' bathroom, stepped in, and locked the door behind me.

After doing my business, I washed my hands and checked my reflection, adjusting my hair and cheer outfit. Good enough.

As I unlocked the door and stepped out, I saw two girls looking impatient.

"What are you waiting for?" I asked nonchalantly, walking past them as they scrambled inside.

Walking through the hallway, I heard voices coming from an empty classroom. I stopped and listened.

"I'm telling you, Kev, I know what I heard," an aggravated voice said.

I froze, pressing my back against the wall. Kevin? He was supposed to be suspended.

"I see. So this was her secret all along?" Kevin's voice was unmistakable—dark and full of a sick kind of glee.

"Are you going to tell the whole school?"

"Oh, I will," Kevin responded. "I just need proof first. Then I'll post it to the school blog. Her social life will be over. Maybe then she'll be forced to do what I've been fantasizing about—kill herself."

I felt a chill run down my spine.

"I'm still shocked she has...what we have between her legs," the other voice added with a sneer of disgust. "And she uses the girls' bathroom? What a pervert."

"I've been saying since day one she was a freak," Kevin said. "I'll expose her and watch her crumble."

I didn't wait to hear the rest. I hurried back toward the gym, my mind racing. What did they meant by all that? They were talking about Remington. They were planning to ruin her.

The deafening sound of the coach's whistle snapped me back to reality as I stepped back into the gym. "This is the last and final chapter, so be prepared to put your all into it, because this round will determine who both our captains will be. And as always, I want a clean game!"

I sat back down next to Heather, my head elsewhere.

"What took you so long?"

"I had to clean myself up. I looked like a mess," I muttered.

"You looked fine before you left," she said, confused.

"That was a long time ago." I watched the court as Remington was shoved to the ground while reaching for the ball.

It looked like a foul, but the coach did nothing.

She stood up with ease, trying to steal the ball back. I saw Trevor's lips move—he was saying something through gritted teeth.

She laughed, snatched the ball, and moved down-court. She looked worn out. I guess I was the only one who noticed that the opposing team was basically hunting her. My stomach tightened.

She passed the ball just before being shoved hard to the ground. I gasped as she struggled to breathe.

Fucking Trevor!

"Oh my god!" Heather screamed. The crowd was in shock.

The coach blew his whistle, but Remington wasn't getting up. She looked out of it.

Michael and another player rushed her to the nurse's office. I had to force myself to stay in my seat so I wouldn't look desperate, but my stomach was in knots.

"I'll kill him," Heather mumbled, glaring at Trevor.

"I really want to go check on her," she pleaded.

I shook my head. "No. We're staying or going to change."

"Maggie, please!"

Ugh, that nickname. "Fine. But we aren't going in. we'll just see if she's okay." Heather squealed and pulled me toward the clinic, damn near ripping my arm off.

We waited in the hallway until Remington stumbled out, looking flustered and clutching her shorts.

What happened in there?

"Show's over. Let's go," I told Heather, pulling her away before she could make a scene.

"I just might get her a 'get well soon' card," Heather said, her stride turning into light skips.

"And why would you do that?" I asked, eyeing her with suspicion.

There was a grin on her face. "Because I'm a concerned citizen?"

I rolled my eyes with a hum at my not-so-subtle best friend. "You and I both know that's not the only reason."

"And what do you mean by that?" She inquired, her eyebrow raised.

"Nothing. Let's walk faster."

Back in the locker room, I told the remaining cheerleaders we'd have practice three days next week.

When it was just Heather and me, I stripped and headed for the shower.

"Do you think Remington would like me?" Heather asked. "I was thinking of asking her on a date."

"Oh."

"She's just so—I don't know."

"Don't tell me you're falling for someone who barely knows you exist?" I said, drying off.

"I wouldn't say falling, but I like her."

I felt nauseous. "Well, you won't know until you ask."

I stayed behind, taking my time. I knew Remington would be back to change, and I was in the mood to torment her.

Heather eventually left after I made an excuse about my father.

I was shoving my socks in my locker when I heard humming. I stood up, accidentally slamming the metal door.

"Who's there?" Remington asked. I didn't respond. I heard her start the shower, still humming that tune.

When the water stopped, I stepped out. She was in her underwear with a towel wrapped around her waist.

"I wonder what you're hiding beneath that towel, freak."

She jumped, slamming into a locker. “Motherfucker! What the hell is wrong with you? You don't sneak up on people like that!"

"I thought you knew I was...around." I let my eyes wander. She had a nice physique. I saw her hand move to her crotch again. Definitely suspicious.

"Y-you should go home," she stuttered.

"Not so fast. What were you covering?" I pinned her against the locker.

"Nothing. I just didn't like you staring."

She tried getting away but I kept my palms firmly against the lockers behind her.

It was common knowledge that she could easily overpower me but she didn't even try.

"You're lying. Are you scared I'd do something bad to you?"

"I'm telling the truth, okay. Now, can I go? It's going to rain."

I stepped back and watched her dress with her back to me, clearly uncomfortable.

We eventually made it to her car.

"You're being too quiet," she sighed. "Do you need something?"

"Yes, actually. A ride home."

"Ask nicely." She demanded, leaning against her car with folded arms, causing her biceps to flex.

I reluctantly forced my eyes away from the view. "Ugh, fine. Could you please take me home?" I begged with a pout.

She watched me for a beat, probably trying to gauge my intentions. “Could use some work. Get in."

Who did she think she was?

I scowled as I sat down, my arms folded tightly. "You're even more annoying up close."

"So you watch me from afar? I'm honored, Margaux Dubois."

As she drove, I looked at her. Really looked at her.

"Shut up. What are you mixed with anyway? You have an Asian look." I gestured to her appearance.

"I'm half Chinese, half Cuban." She said curtly, keeping her eyes on the road.

"Oh. So you speak both languages?"

"Yes...and a few more. Italian, French, Russian."

"Tell me something in Italian. Please."

She came to a stop at a red light and looked at me, her eyes hooded. "Mi sono rotto il naso colpendo il muro."

"What does that mean?"

"I broke my nose hitting the wall. And...Siempre he querido un perro. Spanish for 'I've always wanted a dog.'"

I watched her lips the entire time she spoke.

There was something undeniably attractive about the way the different languages rolled off her tongue. "That's genuinely impressive. Don't tell anyone I said that."

"Don't worry," she smirked, patting her chest. "Your secret is safe with me."

I rolled my eyes with a ghost of a smile on my lips.

What a loser.

The rest of the ride was silent. When we pulled up to the gates of my estate, she looked stunned by the sheer size of the place.

"I guess I still would've found your house easily if you don't give me your address."

I could tell she was trying to lighten the mood that had suddenly gone dim but, I wasn't feeling it.

"Goodbye, freak," I said, stepping out of the car without a single glance back. I walked toward the house, feeling a heavy weight in my chest.

My father had warned me to stay away.

And I was supposed to be making her life a living hell. Instead, I was sitting in her car, listening to her speak different languages.

I was getting attached. And in this house, attachment was a death sentence.