Page 17 of Queen Rose

Aria

As I’m packing up my bag after my last class, my phone pings in my blazer pocket several times in a row. Thinking maybe it’s Nate, I lean against a locker to check.

Unknown Number:Hey. I go to RRHS.

Unknown Number:Could you meet me in the parking lot?

Unknown Number:I really think we should talk.

Unknown Number:It’s about Nate.

My stomach plummets into the bottom of my abdomen, twisting around with my guts. I blink a few times, looking up at other students, unseeing, as they laugh and make their way down the hall toward the front of the building, where they’ll go about their day without a care. Then there’s me, half-scared something awful is about to happen.

Me:Who is this?

Unknown Number:I saw you with him at the party.

Unknown Number:Trust me. You need to hear this.

Without knowing what to make of it, I push off the lockers and slowly follow everyone else on their way out. I have a bad feeling about this, but I can’t deny I’m curious about who the hell from River Rock wants to talk to me about Nate and why. They were at the party. My brain scrambles. There’d been no shortage of people there. And I’d been a little tipsy, and also pretty focused on everything Nate and trying to have a good time. I can’t pinpoint who it could possibly be.

I take a deep breath. Shit. I need to get this over with. It’s probably nothing. But still. My gut instinct is telling me that this will be ugly if I walk out into a parking lot full of other students to meet whomever this is. At the last second, I ditch my plan and push through the door to the bathroom.

Dragging myself over to the nearest sink, I blankly stare at my petrified expression in the reflection of the mirror. After a while, I wash my hands, taking a stupid amount of time to dry them with a paper towel. Still in panic mode, I pluck my lipstick out of my blazer pocket and carefully touch up my application, even though it was already perfect.

My phone buzzes on the counter, making me jump, only this time it’s not the unknown number, it’s Xander.

Xan:Hey, the guys and I are heading out to the football field to throw the ball around for a bit.

Xan:You okay? I didn’t see you after last period.

Crap.I should probably ask him to come walk me out to my car. But I’m also a little stubborn. As much as I’ve always leaned on him, I know—especially after interrupting him and Scarlett during sexy time—that I have to start dealing with things on my own. Xander deserves to live his own life, without me hanging off his elbow or sneaking into his bed. With a sigh, I quickly tap out a bullshit response.

Me:I had to stay after class to finish up a layout for Yearbook.

Me:Have fun :)

Finally, I know I can’t put it off any longer, so I stop to take a second to wipe my sweaty hands on my skirt. Suck it up, Aria. Feeling a little ridiculous that I’m letting a text from some rando get to me like this, I leave the bathroom in a huff.

As I push through the main door of the academy and scan the parking lot up ahead, my footsteps slow. What the ever-loving fuck is going on here? Icy cold fingers of dread creep up my spine. Something isn’t right. There’s a crowd out there, centered around the space where I left my car this morning.

My brows draw together. Oh, shit. Gathering all the strength I can to deal with whatever is going on, I move as fast as my legs will carry me. When I reach the edge of the circle, I push through the bodies to find that my car is encircled by a ton of huge black trash bags. I blink. And my fucking car. Oh. My. God. My car is full—from floorboard to ceiling—with trash. Whatever is in there smells revolting. In a daze, I shake my head to clear it.

“Pretty fitting for a trashy whore, don’t you think?” Farrah steps forward, a smirking grin on her face, her eyes delightedly scanning the gathering. “What do you think, Aria?” Her brow arches as she studies my reaction. And unfortunately, I’m giving her a show.

My lips have parted in disbelief and my shoulders have sagged. Holy shit. Out of everything my dad has ever given me, this car is the thing I’ve appreciated most. Internally, I groan. Fuck.

She holds up a finger. “Before you say anything, I think everyone deserves to hear about what you’ve been up to.”

There’s some shouting, and for a moment I’m distracted by whatever Farrah is talking about when Scarlett, Lyla, and Daphne barge through the crowd to get to me.

“Farrah, what the fuck did you do?” Scarlett screeches as she steps between us and gets right in her face.

“Me?” Farrah gives a snort of derision. “I did nothing. The car was like this when I got out here. And damn. It smells like shit, doesn’t it?” She waves her hand delicately in front of her nose, all while scrunching it up in distaste.

There’s quiet laughter from the other students—and I know for fucking certain they’d be enjoying this even more if it weren’t me they were laughing at. I glare at a few of them, and they immediately stop, properly chastised.

Daphne grabs Scarlett's hand and pulls her back, murmuring, “Looks like Farrah’s taken a page out of Alora’s bitch book.” This fall, when Daph first started seeing Micah, she’d had her car whipped creamed as part of a cruel joke, so I don’t doubt she feels every ounce of my pain. Still. Whipped cream washes off. This nastiness, though? It’s going to ruin the interior. And that stench. It’ll permeate everything. I do my best not to gag because it’ll only give her something more to laugh about.

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