Page 35 of Fraternizing with the Enemy
She didn’t wait for me to reply, but headed out the alley in Logan’s footsteps, assuming I’d follow.
I looked down at my cheer uniform, at the bedazzled royal blue and beautiful gold. A band of gold stretched across my chest underneath the Brentwood High logo, distinctly different from the rest of the squad’s. The captain’s uniform. One that every Babe dreamed of, but one I’d been chosen to don.
When I’d seen Logan on Monday, his words had been gentler.Don’t stay stuck in high school.
And with Jade, he’d wielded them like a weapon.Girls like you peak in high school.
I crouched down in the grit, balancing on the balls of my feet. Each of Logan’s kind words warred with the ugly ones.It was a darewent head-to-head withIt was real. My mind couldn’t wrap around it, couldn’t see which was the truth. Maybe they both were. Maybe neither of them were.
All I knew was that I’d been blindsided by the enemy, and everything I’d envisioned all came to a crashing halt. The buzzer was sounding on the game of our relationship, and even though I wasn’t totally sure Logan won, I knew that I was the loser.
I stayed in the alleyway for a long time, crouched to the ground, hugging my knees. I expected Jade to return eventually and tug me back into Expresso’s, but she never did. No one ever came to find me, leaving me and my hurt all alone.
Existing in a world post-Logan was strange. I hadn’t realized how excited I’d gotten over his good morning messages until I knew they’d never come again. I hadn’t realized how much I’d planned my day around when I got to see him when there were no more plans to be made. Saturday and Sunday blended into two long, wandering days where I’d meandered about the house with no true intention, just to keep myself busy from thinking.
Heartbroken. What a stupid word. Dramatic, overused, one that most definitely didn’t apply to me. We hadn’t even been dating. We weren’t serious. We weren’tanything.
Wasted potential.Thatwas what I was sad about. Not because I thought Logan could boost my popularity—ugh, seriously, definitely not that—but because he could’ve been my first real boyfriend. And yeah, I guess it was kind of a bummer to let go of that.
Not heartbroken.
Just… disappointed. And a little embarrassed, maybe.
But definitely not heartbroken.
I opened the frosted office door to my mother’s officeMonday morning with more attitude than I should’ve, knocking once but not bothering to wait for an answer. “Mom,” I said with a sigh. “Can Iplease?—”
I faltered when I realized that she wasn’t alone, and that a student sat across from her desk.
And then I practically froze solid when I realized who sat in the chair. Despite the shock and the sudden ringing in my ears, I still managed to fumble words out. “Oh. Uh, Hey… Maisie.”
My ex-best friend just blinked her dark eyes at me, ones that were partially obscured by the reflection of Mom’s office lights in her glasses.
“I’ll teach you the choreo,” I’d told her freshman year, smiling even though I felt sick to my stomach. “I already saw the video we’re supposed to learn. You’ll learn it easier if I teach it to you.”
Maisie’s eyes had been brighter at fourteen, looking at me with all the trust in the world. “You’re the best.”
Trusting me to teach her the choreography. Not even thinking I could’ve been teaching her the wrong one.
“Maisie,” Mom said after a beat, and it was then that I realized we’d all been silent long enough to make it super awkward. “If anything changes, I’ll be sure to let you know, okay?”
I had no idea what they were talking about, but I knew asking would only keep Maisie in the room longer, so I kept my mouth shut. Maisie rose to her feet silently, but an angry wave exuded from her. She walked by me without making eye contact, but then again, I was too focused on my shoes to truly notice.
Get a grip, Madison, I tried to tell myself, but Maisie was the one person I could never do that with.
With her gone, the air definitelyfelt lighter, like someone had let all the oxygen back in. “What was that about?” I asked Mom.
A lot of people said Mom and I looked like sisters, but I didn’t really see it. For one, her blonde hair was straighter than mine, and more often pulled back into a bun.Shelooked pretty with her hair up. We were the same height, and she’d developed a pretty good skincare routine, but still definitelyMommaterial.
She shifted things on her desk. “The hard part about being a principal,” she answered vaguely before folding her hands in front of her and giving me her full attention. “What was it that you barged in so rudely for?”
It took me a second, because seeing my ex-best friend had totally wiped my memory. “Can I pleasejust have your panini for lunch?” I even went as far as puffing out my bottom lip. “It’s spaghetti day—you know Ihatespaghetti day.”
She gave me her signature Mom Stare. “You should’ve packed your own lunch, then.”
“You should’ve reminded me what was for lunch today. As principal, you probably have the lunch menu memorized.”
“I have a few other things on my plate, you know.”
