Page 19 of Enemy Crush
Another girl chimed in. “Did you know she wore her Brizendine Prep soccer jersey to trials yesterday.”
“Yeah, how embarrassing is that?”
“Must’ve forgotten what school she’s at.”
The mocking laughter reeked of mean girl vibes and my stomach clenched, waging an inner battle with myself on whether to step in and shut them down or to mind my own freaking business.
I chose the latter.
After all, Quinn Devereaux wasn’t my problem.
As kids filled the bus, I reassured myself I’d done the right thing by not interfering, instead turning my attention to Mason.His face lit up when Katie entered and sat next to him. At least he was living his best life.
A niggle persisted for the rest of the day, the devil on my shoulder whispering that I should’ve said something on the bus, that those mean comments equated to bullying. I countered that little voice by telling myself she probably deserved it—a prep school snob and yeah, if she did wear her Brizendine Prep shirt to soccer practice, well, likely she deserved it. I mean, who did that? Someone who thought they were too good for Snow Ridge High, that’s who.
Impatient to get my motorbike back on the road, I jumped at the chance to get a ride to the auto parts store with Elise, who was going to the mall after school. I texted Mason that he could take the bus home on his own, confident that he’d be okay with Katie.
Before we’d even left the parking lot, Elise had discussed Year Book photos (I dreaded them), a gluten free selection of food for the cafeteria (didn’t affect me) and Mr. Lennox’s boring rant on states of matter. She tooted her horn and waved to a girl in a red station wagon and said, “I wonder if Quinn made the soccer team, why didn’t you say she was your neighbor?”
I pretended I hadn’t heard. “What?”
“When she was looking for her locker, you didn’t say you knew her. And she lives next door to you?” There was a hint of accusation in her voice.
“Not next door. Across the street,” I mumbled. “And I never see her. Their house is down a long driveway.”
“But you know her?”
“No. I only knew she went to Brizendine Prep. Her mother—”
But Elise cut me off before I could say how Mrs. Devereaux’s only interactions with us involved complaining about one thing or another. “Her mother owns Trés Elegance.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“You know, the hair and beauty salon.”
I shook my head. Joe’s Quick Cuts was my go-to for haircuts, not some fancy salon. “I didn’t know that.”
“My aunt who owns the nail salon said Quinn’s mother is working there.”
“What? You mean her mother is a hairdresser?” My whole world view shifted in that instant. That posh Annabelle Devereaux, who drove a new Mercedes and strutted around like she was better than everyone else, wasn’t a chief executive or something butcut hairfor a job? Okay, so she owned the business, but in simple terms she was a hairdresser. And yet she looked down on us?
I wondered if Dad knew that.
“Quinn seems nice,” Elise said with a tentative smile.
“She does?” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes because apparently my dog thought the same thing. Though to be fair, Elise didn’t have a mean bone in her body.
“I think she might be shy.”
“Ha! More like snobby,” I scoffed. “But is it true she moved to Snow Ridge High just because her parents divorced?” I repeated what Brayden had told me.
“Yeah, that’s pretty sad, isn’t it?” Elise said, full of sympathy. “It’s gotta be rough for her.”
“I guess,” I muttered, feeling bad that I hadn’t considered the impact of her parents’ breakup. I still struggled with my mother leaving ten years ago. Embarrassed, I changed the subject. “You can drop me around here. I can walk.”
“Noooo!” Elise exclaimed. “You go get your motorbike thingy and I just have to pop into the bookstore. Then we’ll go for donuts. We haven’t done that for ages. You want donuts, right?”
When Elise mentioned donuts, it was impossible to decline. Her parents owned the Donut Shoppe in the food court mall and they were the best, not just in flavors but each one wasa work of art in the way they decorated them. Because it was a freebie, I chose a standard strawberry jelly one with white chocolate drizzle, and then bought one for Mason and grabbed Dad a peanut butter flavored one. Dad loved peanut butter and I’d often catch him scooping a spoonful straight out of the jar, which is why he bought it in bulk.
