Page 147 of Edge of Unbroken

“You know absolutelynothing, Cheyenne,” I yell so loudly, my voice echoes through the hallway and everyone around us falls silent. “What have I ever done to you? I’ve been nothing but nice, but from the moment you and I met you were standoffish. I haven’t done shit to you.”

She lets out a humorless laugh. “Are you kidding me? I could tell right from the start that you were a conniving little bitch, and I was right. You snatched Ran right out from under me.”

So that’s what this is about. What it’s been about. Of course it is. I should have known it was about Ronan. And not Cheyenne’s wish to protect him, but her unreciprocated desire for him. It’s jealousy. Nothing more, nothing less. I should feel bad for her, but I’m just angry.

“I didn’t snatch him out from under you. There’s no snatching Ronan. The reason he wasn’t with you is because he didn’twantto be with you,” I hiss at her more derisively than I’ve ever spoken to anyone.

It might be the culmination of the months of terror inflicted by Adam and the fact that he’s still waiting for his chance to hurt me, the relentless rumors about what happened to Ronan, the passive-aggressiveness with which I was blamed for his disappearance, but I have never been more furious in my life.

For a moment, Cheyenne looks as though I slapped her across the face, her coal-lined eyes wide as her dark-red lips curl into a snarl. Whatever she wants to say next, I don’t care to hear it. I know the truth now, I know how to move forward, and I know to take the high road. So I turn to leave.

“You think you’re so much better than me, acting all cute and innocent and shit. But I know what you are, Cat. I know you’re just a pretentious little slut who obviously goes through boys like fucking candy. Fucking slut.”

Not a second later, I feel her spit land in my hair.

I’m pretty sure this surge of rage is what Ronan experiences whenever he sees Adam, because I suddenly lose all rationality. I spin on my heels, close the short distance between Cheyenne and me, and slap her so forcefully across the face that she falls to the floor.

“You wanna fucking go? Then let’s fucking go!” I yell at her.

I feel myself get pulled away from Cheyenne, who just sits on the floor, shell-shocked, her hand to her bright-red cheek as she stares at me incredulously. Bet she didn’t see that one coming.

“Okay, Rocky Balboa,” Vada says with an admiring little giggle while she, Tori, and Summer drag me away from Cheyenne. “Let’s get you to the bathroom so we can clean that loogie out of your hair. Nasty.”

Once Vada, Tori, and Summer help me rinse the glob of phlegm out of my hair, we make it to our classes. All day I wait for the shoe to drop, for the principal to command me into her office and impose some kind of discipline. Surely Cheyenne would’ve ratted on me; it wasn’t exactly a light slap. It was supercharged with all my anger and disappointment, and the humiliation was written all over Cheyenne’s face. Good. Let her be embarrassed, let her be ashamed. That was the point of the exercise. I’mdoneplaying nice with people who do nothing but tear me down.

But I don’t get called into the principal’s office, and what’s more, I almost instantly notice a change in the way other kids look at me, and really mostly the girls. Where there used to be derisive whispering mixed with judgmental side-glances and stares, those same girls give me a wide berth now, diverting their eyes the second I make eye contact. It’s like I’ve suddenly become impervious to the negativity and unwarranted criticism, and it causes me to stand a little taller, to walk with a little more purpose, because: fuck Drew, fuck Adam, fuck Cheyenne, and fuck everyone who thinks they can do, take, and say whatever they want without regard for others. Fuck that. I’m done.

Just because the school administration doesn’t hear about the smackdown, however, that doesn’t mean no one outside this lovely establishment knows, which is evident the moment I meet Ronan after class lets out.

“Eventful morning?” he asks with a wide, mischievous grin after I greet him with a kiss.

I blink at him, astounded. “What makes you say that?” I ask innocently.

He chuckles. “Oh, just Vada’s group text about your little ‘cat’ fight with Cheyenne,” he says, making air quotes with his index and middle fingers.

I groan. “Vada already texted everyone?” I turn on my phone while Ronan drapes his arm over my shoulder, very clearly marking his territory as we begin our way back to my house. Sure enough, the second my phone powers up I see the thirty-seven unread text messages in the group chat. They span the entire school day, and I shake my head more than once as I read through them. Ronan stays quiet, letting me read.

“Oh my god, it was not that dramatic,” I huff at Vada’s elaborate narrative on how I whirled around and smacked Cheyenne’s face, causing her to “collapse to the ground in a heap of sweat and tears.” Ronan just chuckles.

I grin at the messages from the guys praising me.

Shane:

I’m starting to understand more and more how much of a little badass Cat is. Holy shit, two-and-a-half god damn beatdowns in a month…

Vada:

A HALF beatdown?

Shane:

Well, she sorta missed that fucker yesterday, but she tried pretty fucking hard. No more little kitten over here. Total fucking lioness.

My smile widens.

Ronan:

Seriously. I don’t know what sort of boot camp you guys put her through while I was gone, but damn.

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