Miren Eze was still talking herself out of murder as she cleared the deep stain of diet soda on her school uniform. Penelope's doing. On purpose.
It would be for the greater good, Miren mentally justified. But she pushed the homicidal thought away as she watched the stain fade slowly under the blow dryer. She bit her lip frantically; she had no time to waste. The Fall Honors Recognition Assembly was in fifteen minutes. And here she was, stuck in a bathroom with soggy boobs.
"You look like shit." Miren's attention shifted to her only friend.
"Just the words I was looking for."
Chara set her backpack on the counter, sizing up the damage. "She really did a number on you this time," she said, hissing. "Geez, what you do? Spit on her Porsche?"
"I'd like to spit in her face." Miren tried not to think about the hell Penelope gave her. Constantly. She shook her head. "Whatever. I just need my button-up to dry."
"You can't get your award looking like that," was Chara's encouragement.
"You're right. How about I go naked?"
"Ha."
Miren scowled; she wished she could laugh at life right now.
"Hey, why don't we just switch clothes?"
She looked down at her friend. Chara had the frame of what one might expect a young Japanese girl to haveâslender and petite. Miren had a similar flat buildâbut almost five inches on the girl.
"Butâ"
"Switch!" Chara began to unbutton her uniform. "We're wasting time."
With no other realistic options, Miren stripped with a groan. Chara nodded in approval when they completed their exchange.
"Now you look sexy."
"We go to an all-girls Catholic school for Christ's sake." Miren wrinkled her nose as she tugged at the tightness of the blouse. It fit her form much better than the other one, but that was the problem. Sister Francesca didn't need a reason to rain heavenly fire on her. And now she had one. "I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to look 'sexy'." Chara rolled her eyes.
"I'm pretty sure we don't have enough time to change your outfit and your attitude."
***
The hallway was empty, but Miren didn't like the idea of running down it. The school was a thousand years young, with Splashers (Penelope's unofficial minions) probably lurking like bitchy ghosts within the shadows. Ready to douse her again. And although it usually felt like a cold slap to the face, she couldn't afford to be fazed by it today. The assembly was her one chance for redemption (well, as much as a black scholarship student could hope to claim in the midst of lily-white, self-proclaimed high school aristocrats)âand recognition for something that wasn't The Incident.
But she wasn't going to go into that right now.
When they made it to the assembly hall in one undamaged piece, the sky had finally cleared, either mocking her or assuring her that things were actually looking up.
Sister Francesca, an older nun and her Ethics in Religion teacher, however, gave Miren a snide look. Before Miren could make a mental note of how un-Catholic her gesture was, Headmistress Castro shooed her toward the backstage.
Thank-you, Miren mouthed to her friend. Chara nodded before taking a seat in the back.
"So kind of you to join us, Miss Eze." There was hardly any venom in her voice, but it was hard to hear her over the crowdâit was a joint assembly, with the neighboring all-boys school taking part in the festivities. Miren sucked in a breath, hoping the act would ease her mind. But this was a big dealâshe was apparently a big deal.
"My apologies. I had a wardrobe malfunction," she offered, but she could tell the headmistress didn't actually give a fuck.
"Line up with the others."
Behind the curtains, there were four other students. Miren averted her gaze, taking her place behind one of the girls. Instead, she focused on the man setting up his camera. She perked up. Sure it was a dumb assembly that she barely wanted to be a part of, but wannabe Oprah, Imani Higgins, was here to present the scholastic distinction award. And she was one of the finalists.
It was her day, damn it.
She coiled her long braids back into a ponytail, already becoming restless with what hadn't even begun. But she was a fidgety perfectionist, and repeated the act until a pair of hands stopped her.
"You look fine." Her heart throbbed at the deep, smooth familiar voice. She turned slightly, catching a glimpse of her crush. He smirked a grin capable of making the blind see. "Like, really fine."
"Parker..." Saying his name made her lips tingle, but she knew she couldn't get swept up in his charm. Not when he was sleeping with the enemy.
She tilted her head upward, shifting her hands from his grip. Her dark brown eyes clashed with his piercing green ones. "...Why are you being so creepy?"
He laughed. "It's only creepy if you don't like it."
She pressed her lips together. "Just being good looking doesn't excuse you from making rapey comments like that."
"Of course not," Parker Harisson seemed to agree. "That's what my parents' money is for."
She laughed bitterly. As fun as this little interaction was, she was walking on thin ice. Although everyone else seemed distracted by their phones or the weight of the impending assembly, who knew if one of Penelope's lackeys was watching them? There was one other girl among them, Artemis, but she was conversing with a jock that apparently outsmarted everyone enough to be here.
"Don't you have an evil girlfriend to get back to?" Miren finally said, turning to the boy. She didn't know why she liked him, why she continued to play a player's game. He knew he could have the affection of any girl, what with his tall, lean, but well-defined body, and his chiseled features and bronze skin that radiated in the stage light. He would break her heart too, which is why she never got her hopes up. But simply indulging in his presence was harmless. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.
Parker frowned. "Look, I don't know what happened between the two of you, but you and I both know that breaking up with Pen is not on the table."
Pen. Miren almost snorted at his pet name. "I never asked you to."
"But you're not letting me in either." She had never seen him look serious before, but there it was, the look that basically confirmed unicorns existed. Still, it made her stomach flutter with a sensation that wasn't entirely as innocent as butterflies. She bit her lip to keep from cursing out loud. Stupid teen girl hormones.
But her self-respect was the one thing she took pride in. And despite how uncomfortable she was in her tight uniform, she was feeling pretty proud today.
A sadistic smile spread across her lips. "Goodbye, Parker."
Before he could respond, she heard a pair of heels approach them. And there she was. Penelope van Helsing. She flipped her auburn hair before steadying her eyes of ice on Miren.
"Why did you change?" she asked, her voice as mocking as her glare. "Did you get that shirt from Baby Gap?"
"You're only seventeen. Stop pretending you have Alzheimer's," Miren said, focusing on the curtain that really should have opened an eternity ago. "It's offensive."
Parker snickered. Penelope shot him a look that surprisingly didn't kill.
"I don't know what you were telling him, but I can assure you that you have no chance with him." She practically spat as the curtains shifted. "Just like you have no chance of winning the Rising Scholar Award."
Miren shrugged. "Remind me who's first in class again? Unfortunately, I think I'm coming down with your bullshit disease."
Penelope clenched her jaw before the headmistress motioned for her to go to her spot further along the apron of the stage. You'll see, bitch, her eyes threatened Miren.
Kiss my ass, Miren glared back.
Parker was shaking his head as he joined his girlfriend, but she didn't expect him to get it. Penelope was a sirenâthe song she sung to enchant him should have lost his appeal years ago; but instead he was as devout as one could expect a senior heartthrob to be. But it didn't matter.
If Miren ever acted on her idiotic feelings toward Parker, the hell Penelope would unleash would make The Incident look like a sweet dream.
It pained her to watch them stand together, holding hands and being all chummy, but Miren didn't have to suffer through it for too long. The curtain finally drew back.
It was show time.