Page 19 of Ruthless Rose

Chapter 13

There’s nothing quite like sneaking around the school early. I have special permission to do so, of course, and I’m also armed with Micah’s locker combinations. It still felt a little odd to me, but I guess Rosehaven’s Spirit Squad is a trustworthy bunch of kids.

I hit Micah’s main locker first, hastily pulling Scotch tape out of my bag and hanging up the big, bold individual letters that spell out Go, Micah! Of course, everything I do has an artistic twist, so there are little hand-drawn footballs and helmets decorating each letter. Pretty cute, if I do say so myself. Hopefully, not too cute for the big, bad tight end. I bite my lip, staring at the finished locker for a few seconds, then shrug. It’s not like I have time to change it now.

With the hanging of the sign accomplished, I pull out his locker combo, break in, and leave a container of chocolate chip cookies for him that Scarlett helped me bake. It’s a good thing she was such a good sport when I texted her after eight last night, because I’m really terrible at baking. I’d been desperate for help, so I spilled to her about being Micah’s spirit girl. Later, over cookies, I’d shared about being forced onto the homecoming committee, too. She’d been totally sympathetic.

I hurry down to the other end of the school where the gym is located, glad I haven’t run into anyone at all so far. No one needs to know I’m doing this. Definitely not Micah.

I think the rest of the spirit squad must have put up their stuff yesterday after school. Several of the lockers I pass already have signs up on them. If I’d thought about it, I’d have done that too, but I’d been so worked up about whether or not Micah was going to show up for tutoring, I hadn’t even considered it.

I’ve got about fifteen minutes before the student body starts to arrive for the day. Skidding to a stop outside the boys locker room, I take a deep breath. There shouldn’t be anyone in there at this time of day—not on a game day, anyway.

Still… my nerves jangle as I creep through the doorway, looking down the hallway where the male PE teachers have offices and one of the athletic trainers has a small exam room. With the coast clear, I hustle through the next door to the locker room itself. It’s identical to the girls locker room, from what I remember of the tour that I went on last year—not that I’ve had a reason to be near the gym since. Not until now.

It’s pretty typical, though. Rows of lockers, benches, and a long hallway with shower stalls and a counter with a mirror above it. Hastily, I glance at my phone, checking for Micah’s locker number, and once I locate it, I set my bag on the bench, unzip it, and pull out the sign. I have it up in a flash and hightail it out of there. My heart is pounding hard, which is ridiculous. It’s not like I was on some secret mission or something. If someone sees me, they see me.

Later, I’m picking at my lunch when Scarlett slides onto the seat next to me with her favorite of our school’s lunchtime offerings—lasagna.

“Hey. I figured you’d be sitting with Xander. You know, game day and all.”

“Don’t be silly. I know you aren’t exactly comfortable sitting over there with that crowd, and Xander knows better than to think I’d just leave my friends behind for some silly football crap. I told him I wanted to sit over here with you guys today. He’s fine with it. He knows I love him and would do pretty much anything else he asked of me.” She winks at me and shovels a forkful of lasagna into her mouth.

A knot forms in my throat. I can’t believe Scarlett has only been here seven weeks and already has a steady boyfriend. It’s not that she doesn’t deserve it, because she does after all she’s been through. She and Xander are so damn sweet together. They are, without a doubt, the school’s new power couple. I just wonder sometimes—okay, more than just sometimes—when it’ll be my turn. If it’ll ever be my turn.

“Micah’s in a mood anyway, and it’s affecting the whole group over there. I don’t know what’s up with it. He’s all grumbly and pissed off. You’d think our cookies would have sweetened him up, but nope.”

More grumbly than usual?My attention is piqued. I wonder if he’s still upset about that phone call yesterday. It’s not my business, no matter how badly I’d felt for him, but I can’t help but think maybe that’s it. I wonder who isn’t coming today to watch the game. Who does he want there that’s letting him down?

Scarlett nudges my arm. “How’d Operation Spirit Girl go this morning?”

“Fine.” I poke at my salad. “I haven’t told Max about it yet—or the homecoming committee thing—and I’d appreciate keeping it on the down low.”

“So you said last night.” Scarlett frowns at me. “I wouldn’t betray your trust, Daphne.”

I sigh. “I know. In my head, I know that. It’s all just a lot to deal with right now.”

“Is there a specific reason you aren’t telling Max?”

I immediately shrug, not knowing how to answer. It’s dumb, but I’m embarrassed.

“What’s a lot to deal with?” Max sets his tray down opposite us and takes a seat. “And what aren’t we telling me?” He raises an eyebrow, obviously not happy that he’s been left out of something.

Scarlett side-eyes me and presses her lips together.

Shit.“I had to pick out a few activities to add to my schedule so we can put them on my college applications,” I mumble, hoping he’ll drop it.

But it’s Max and he won’t let this go, especially when I’m having trouble looking him in the eye. Exasperated, he looks from me to Scarlett before asking, “What the fuck is going on?”

She holds her hands up, palms out. “This isn’t my thing. In fact, I’m pleased to pass the what-the-hell-is-going-on torch to Daphne.”

I glance up at Max’s concerned face and straight back down to my lettuce. “I’m now on the spirit squad and homecoming committee.”

He frowns, pointing his fork at me. “You don’t even like school dances.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t seem to matter. At least there are just a couple of meetings and the decorating, and then I’ll be done with it.”

He shakes his head, half-laughing, and I don’t miss Scarlett delivering a swift kick to his shin under the table. A grimace on his face, he leans down to rub his leg and eyes me carefully. “Wait, whose personal little cheerbunny do you get to be?”

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