Page 21 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

True. But as long as she has Ben and the other jocks on her side, no one can harm her.

Maria stops at the top stairs and dumps her bag on the bleachers. We are having an outdoor lunch on the field today because I don’t want to see Ben or Olivia. I grab the sandwich my best friend offers me and cross my legs at the ankles. She ransacks her bag for a small carton of juice. I take a bite of the sandwich, and my eyes close as my teeth sink into the toast to savor the delicious mix of all the simple ingredients. Only Maria’s mom can make a sandwich taste this good. I love it.

“Tessa,” she whines. “Come on. I need details. I came out all the way here for you.”

“Oh, please.” I scoot away from Maria before she can poke me. But the beautiful troublemaker closes the gap and loops her arm through my elbow. “Can I at least eat my lunch? One minute?”

Impatience rolls off her in waves, but I take my sweet time to finish my snack. Maria wants to know how Ben got involved in the fight between Olivia and me, and I don’t want to talk about it.

A beep breaks through the quiet. Maria picks up her phone and grins at the screen. “Time up, Tessa.” Did she set an alarm? I didn’t mean that literally. “How do you know he took you to the clinic?”

“Because the nurse told me about a Mr. Carter,” I answer and pray that this is the last of it. My eyes zoom in on the field. I imagine the jocks kicking the ball and making a dash for the goalpost. Ben was good at this, a top goal scorer for a long time. Images from that time replay in my head like a series on fast forward. I picture Ben in his number 17 jersey, running with the ball. The last match he played got us to the state finals. “It’s not a big deal. He probably felt bad.”

Ben doesn’t play anymore. Does he miss it? I know I would. I will miss fighting for Coach.

Is that why he picked underground fighting? For the adrenaline rush?

“Maybe.” Maria kicks the brown paper bag at her feet and downs the rest of my juice. My jaw drops. This girl said she wasn’t hungry. “Something is up with that boy. I saw him smoking.”

Good for him and his lungs. I don’t give a hoot. He’s Olivia’s problem.

“Are you cheering today?” I ask to steer the conversation from the weird blue-eyed boy. Her date is tonight, the same as today’s game. It tends to run late sometimes. If our school wins, the guys will find a bar to celebrate or throw a party at the house of one of the super-rich jocks. Maria nods. I tense at her strained smile. I don’t want to be the third wheel when she gets together with Daniel, but she’s not excited about the date. I dump my trash in the bag. “What about your date?”

Her fingers run through her thick mass of curls hanging over one shoulder in a slow motion that irritates me. I snatch her hand to place it on my legs. “He canceled.” Her voice cracks on the last word. She retracts her hand to put her hair in a messy bun, but I know she’s stalling. “But, I get to cheer fine boys at the game,” she adds, and I cringe at the fake cheeriness that laces her words.

We sit in silence for another moment, and my gaze travels the length of the field. By night, this place will be filled to the brim with the lights lining the poles at the corners shining bright enough to blind anyone dumb enough to stare into them. A glance in the direction of the cafeteria sends shivers down my spine. I rub my cheek with a soft sigh. It dawns on me now—the reason Maria was willing to eat out here. Daniel is in the cafeteria. We are both avoiding our demons.

Leaning forward to prop my elbows on the bench, I make funny faces until she giggles. The lines on her forehead even out, Maria mimics my position, and a small smile finds its way to my lips.

“We don’t need boys when we have each other,” I whisper. Her head jerks in agreement, and her eyes light up. “Who needs a Daniel Holt from Broadway Heights when Zac Efron is way hotter.”

She fans herself with one hand, and I whistle like the thought of that man drives me as crazy as it does her. Zac is a fair actor, nothing special, but she adores him.

“Hot, single, and richer, Maria,” I add.

“Fuck Daniel!” she screams. I cheer her on and punch the air. Fuck Daniel Holt. Fuck the boys of Broadway Heights. Maria bends to retrieve her phone from her school bag, and I hide the smile trying to make an appearance. “Did you see the last video he posted on the gram? The pictures?”

Nope. I have only twelve followers, two of which are Maria’s personal and singing accounts. Social media is not so much of my business. My best friend stares into space and sighs dreamily while palming her face like a hopeless Disney princess forgotten by her ugly prince charming.

“Man’s so hot it should be a sin,” she says. On a scale of one to ten, I will rate him a seven. If he does away with the fake tan and British accent, I might make it a nine. “I can’t wait to be legal.”

I double over with laughter. “Then what, Miss Vega? You have never even kissed a guy.”

“Shut up, Killjoy.” In a way, the bucket list is also for her. But unlike me, she has already started on her goals. Her finger alternates between the two of us. “We,” she says with emphasis on the word, “have not kissed a boy. But at least you got a boy to touch you. He even carried you, Tessa.”

Because it was partly his fault that I fainted! Why does she think I liked him touching my cheek or carrying me? Right. She knows about my former tiny-weeny crush on the asshole. That aside, I believe she will get her first kiss before me. It might have happened today if Daniel wasn’t an ass. I need to talk to him. I can’t think of anyone wanting to date me, so I will probably never get a real kiss. Maybe college will be different. And if I’m lucky, I might get a kiss during filming.

Maria’s scream jolts me out of my reverie. I plug my fingers into my ears before she damages my eardrums. I glare at her while considering my next move. To smack her into silence or wait for her excitement to wane. She makes that decision for me by grabbing my hand to squeeze the life out of me. I am surprised I don’t pass out. Pushing me back to the bench, she bursts into fluent Spanish. I know a few things from language class, but I do not understand a word she says.

When the drama queen is done being dramatic, she frowns at me. “Why are you not happy for me?” she asks in a thick voice that reveals her Spanish roots. Without waiting for my reply, she slaps the back of my head. “Bad Tessa. Bad friend. Why aren’t you happy for your best friend?”

I roll my shoulders carelessly. “First of all, I didn’t understand one word you said. Care to repeat that?” She scowls. Her grip tightens on her phone, and I pinch her rosy cheeks. “In English this time. Please.”

After a deep breath, she says, “Okay, horrible friend.” That’s all I get before her phone drops to my lap. I shriek when I see the numbers below the video. My hands curve around my mouth, and I let out another scream as she performs a graceful double flip. Maria takes a bow and waves at our invisible audience. “Thank you, thank you all. This accomplishment wouldn’t have been possible without my best friend here.”

The video is from that night Olivia emptied a drink on my head. Watching the video makes my heart swell with pride. It’s short, lasting only two minutes, but my best friend made the most of it.

Our eyes meet, and my cheeks hurt so much from smiling at my soon-to-be world-known star. One hundred thousand views, a thousand more subscribers, and loads of comments on her page begging for new videos with suggestions on her next song. She squeals and hugs me for the last time. This might not be much of a big deal to another YouTuber, but this is a huge win for her. Before now, her highest view was ten thousand, and the comments never reached one hundred.

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