“Cleopatra, I don’t know what’s gotten into you today. But I’m going to overlook it because you’ve been dealing with a lot. Although I will say this – if you don’t get your erratic behavior under control and see someone…”
There it is.
“I’ll have no hesitation in letting you go. Is that clear?”
Beside me, I feel Tina’s grimace. I can even feel Maggie shaking her head.
I press my hands together and force my legs to stay still. It’s a good thing my heart is an organ, firmly caged within the ribs. Because if it weren’t, it would be exploding out of my chest and lying a pulpy mess on the floor.
“Crystal,” I say with difficulty.
“And Cleopatra?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Mr. Prince to you. Don’t forget your place.”
I grit my teeth, grind them, smash them.
“I won’t.”
***
Zachariah Prince.
I met him when I was ten and he was twelve.
In fact, I met him my very first day at St. Patrick’s. It’s a posh school for posh kids on the north side of town.
At the time, I was probably the only one from the south side to go there. My parents were very proud. They wanted the best for me and so, they worked very hard to get me into that school.
I never had any high hopes of St. Patrick’s, to be honest. I would’ve been happy to just go to my regular school on the south side with Tina and all my other friends.
Anyway, whatever I was expecting to happen on my first day, it wasn’t even remotely close to what actually did.
I got caught stealing, or rather borrowing, carrot sticks, from a girl at lunch. It wasn’t my fault. I was hungry and they had this long list of prescribed snacks that kids could bring. All of it was some bullshit, healthy stuff that didn’t do anything to curb my hunger.
So I improvised.
And got caught and sent to detention.
Where I met him.
The guy who’d become my bully for the next however many years I was to go to that stupid school – St. Patrick’s has both middle and high school wings.
When girls my age were falling in love with cute boys, I was falling in hate with Zach. When boys were asking them out on dates, carrying their backpacks, opening their doors, Zach and his minions were pushing me through them.
They were tripping me in the hallways, spilling drinks on my uniform and my homework. They were hiding my blue car and sending me hints on my phone as to where it could be.
Not to mention, they were Photoshopping my face on every cheese commercial that they could find on the internet, and calling me Thunder Thighs, Jiggly Lump, Lard Ass. You know, because I love eating and I’m not exactly a delicate flower when it comes to my body.
And while his minions were doing his dirty work, Zach would simply stand there and stare at me. Sometimes he’d smirk. Especially when I fought back.
Oh yeah, I fought back.
I wasn’t helpless. I was far from it.
In fact, I punched him in the face a day after I met him because they’d slashed my books and scattered the pages all over the hallway.
My dad always taught me to stand up for myself and I did.
Countless times.
I’d break into their lockers and steal their homework. I used to key their cars. One time, I even got into this big fight with one of the girls in his inner circle because she hid my clothes after a gym class and sent boys into the locker room to gawk at me. It became a whole big thing at school.
For years, I’ve plotted ways to murder them.
To murder Zach.
I would have too, if he hadn’t gone away. But now he’s back and I’m acting like I’m in school again.
I’m looking left and right, walking very, very slowly lest I slip on something. Something like a banana peel, deliberately planted so I’d step on it and so people could laugh at my ungainly, curvy, jiggling body.
I’m jumping every time someone calls my name. Someone laughs and I tighten my muscles and narrow my eyes, preparing myself for the punch line, which I definitely think involves me. I’m flexing my fists, remembering the right technique to make one like I’ve been teaching Art. I’m thinking up ways in which I can fight back.
I’m drowning in anger and hate and I haven’t even seen him yet.
Gah.
So in order to regroup and act like an adult, I’ve shut myself up in the service closet by the kitchen. The party’s on and I’m supposed to serve champagne, instead of drinking it myself and sitting on a large mopping bucket.
But whatever.
They’ll survive without me. A lot of the cleaning and cooking staff are serving tonight, including me. I used to be a waitress back on the south side and I need the extra cash, so I always volunteer for such events.
Suddenly, the closet rumbles and shakes, making me yelp. Dust falls from the ceiling and the tray full of champagne flutes set on the floor vibrates.
Someone’s knocking at the door.
“Cleo.”
My tensed shoulders sag at the familiarity of the voice. It’s Tina.
I press a hand to my heaving chest, lean over and unlock the door, letting her enter. In contrast to me, her blonde hair looks put-together and she looks very polished in her uniform. I’m pretty sure my mascara has smudged with the nervous sweat and I’ve already chewed off my lipstick.
“What are you doing in here?” she asks, her expression concerned in the meager light of the yellow bulb.
“Trying to regroup myself.”
“By hiding?”
“Hey, don’t judge.”
“Fine. I’m sorry.”
Tina takes a seat beside me on an upturned bucket. “You okay?”
I shake my head.
“You drunk?”
I bring two fingers together. “Maybe a little.”
She nods, as if she understands. “Grace says thank you.”
I smile. “Yeah?”
“Yup. Mr. Grayson was all red by the time he left. He couldn’t keep his hands off his crotch.”
Laughing, we high-five.
A few beats of silence. Then, “It’s really happening, isn’t it?” I swallow. “This isn’t a nightmare or anything?”
Tina shrugs. “I could pinch you, if you like.”
“I pinched myself a dozen times. So yeah, I think it’s real.” My elbows dig into my thighs. “I think he’s really back.”
I can feel it.
That’s the whole problem, actually. That I can feel it. Feel him.
I know he’s out there, in that ballroom that I almost broke my back cleaning. He’s probably mingling with people, namely his minions. He’s drinking, laughing, smirking like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
Like his coming back didn’t ruin everything.
Mr. Prince.
Is that what I’m supposed to call him now? While I strip his bedsheets and take out his fucking trash?
I nod. “What if he picks up where he left off?” I blurt out my biggest fear, wringing my hands. “What if he tries to do something… bad? Get me fired or something? What if I can’t get my house back? I have so much more to lose now. This isn’t prank wars or whatever.”
“Look, calm down. You don’t know what’s going to happen,” Tina explains, grasping my hands. “And you won’t know unless you go outside and face the situation. People say he’s visiting for a few days. Maybe he won’t notice you. It’s a big house. How many times have you seen Mr. and Mrs. Prince? Not many, I bet. Besides, if you keep hiding and don’t work the floor, Mrs. S will fire you anyway.”
I sigh. She’s right.
“God, I hate him.”
“I know. That’s all you ever talked about when he was here.”
“Well, duh. He freaking ruined every second of my life while he was here. He even ruined my prom.”
God, the prom.
The worst memory of my entire existence.
I was so happy that night. All dressed up in my navy blue skater prom dress with my leather boots. My make-up was all dark and heavy. I basically looked like a badass Cinderella ready to lose it. Her virginity, I mean.
I drove to school and waited for my boyfriend, Neal. He was new in town and from the south side and as soon as I saw his hipster glasses and suspenders, I knew he was my soul mate.
But he never showed up.
Instead of him, I got a text on my phone – typical of Zach and his minions – with Neal’s picture sucking face with a girl at a party at The Pleiades.
I drove to said party, and laid it to him. Not Neal. Zach.
I laid it to Zach. It was pretty shitty, all the things I said to him. But all of them were true.
“Well, you know, Neal didn’t have to go,” Tina offers.
I whip my gaze to her. “Don’t you think I know that? Of course I know that. Of course I know that Neal didn’t have to go. But the fact that he – Zach – invited him in the first place, bugs the fuck out of me, okay? He did it on purpose. They weren’t even friends. He did it to hurt me and because Neal was such an idiot, my first and only boyfriend was getting a lap dance from a girl who didn’t even go to our school. All on prom night.”
We’re silent for a few more seconds.
“I’m glad we stole all his suspenders.” Tina snorts.
I snort too. “Can you believe he had them in like, every color?”
“Oh my God. He had them in neon yellow, too.”
“Oh God, yes.” I laugh and look up at the ceiling, shaking my head.
“How could you go out with him, Cleo? Like, how?”
“I don’t know. I just…” I sigh. “I guess I just wanted to see what it felt like.”
“What?”
“Falling in love.” I swallow. “All I’ve ever done is hate him. Zach, I mean. All I’ve done is be angry and hateful. I just wanted to see what it felt like to be in love with a guy.”
“That’s fair, I guess.” She sighs too. “Are you ready to go back out there?”