Chapter Eight

I stood at my locker, clenching the side tightly as I tried to remember what book I came to grab.

"I can't believe they even bothered to mess with Stacey," a redhead whispered to her friend only three lockers away.

"I know! Which one is she again?" the brunette asked, full of curiosity.

"Clover Thompson. She's the one screwing Andrew Carter."

"Wow, I can't believe he'd waste his time with her. She can barely defend herself against Stacey. I wonder how that disaster happened. Clearly a mistake."

I slammed my locker shut, making sure it was noticeable as I sent the two girls a tight-lipped smile as their heads followed the noise.

I turned around and headed straight to the cafeteria. All morning, people had been talking about my encounter with Stacey. I thought they'd care more about the fact that Stacey and Andrew were having problems but it seemed things got twisted and now people were talking more about how Tori and I tried to fight Stacey for no apparent reason.

Don't worry, I wonder where this stuff comes from, too.

I headed straight to the lunch line and ordered my food. "Can I get a chicken salad and some nachos and cheese, please?" I asked politely.

"Sure, darling," the lunch lady said, handing me my salad and Tori's nachos. I headed to the line to pay before putting my number in and going to sit down.

"Here you go," I said, handing her the nachos.

"Thanks," she chirped, obviously in a good mood. I nodded and started to eat my chicken salad but couldn't help but let my thoughts drift to what happened yesterday with Andrew. He was so different than what he showed here at school. He was playful and fun, yet who knew what the real side was? Is he this player stoner or is he just your average teenage boy trying to get by?

"Tori."

"Hmm," she asked while taking another bite and looking up from her food.

"Andrew is interesting," I said, twirling my fake hair unconsciously.

"How so?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, clearly disgusted by the conversation topic.

"He's different in school," I said, looking at him sitting at one of the side tables by the wall. He was laughing with his friends, looking like he was genuinely enjoying himself. The crinkles by his eyes and his wide smile were like last night. A chip suddenly hit my face as fingers started snapping right in front of me.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Tori asked with accusing eyes. "You do realize this guy basically helped publicly embarrass you earlier, right? Oh, and in case you forgot, you're pretty different in school, too." 

"Yes, I don't have the hots for him or anything. I just think he's hiding a lot," I said, glancing back over at him.

"Nope, nope, and nope!" she said, slamming her hand on the table to get my attention."Do not try to get all in his business. He's a complete stoner who's going nowhere in life. Just get your deal finished with him and call it a year. You are too gorgeous and you have too much on your plate for all that." 

I nodded, taking a bite of my own food. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Anyway, I still have Damien," I mumbled before glancing at my phone. I knew Tori meant no harm; she just was protecting me from the worst.

Changing the subject, Tori quickly started talking about the recent gossip with Caitlin Harringway, another friend of ours from the modeling business. I listened to bits and pieces as she rambled on about the new gig Caitlin got. I felt bad for zoning out, but I was too distracted at the moment. Something about everything that had gone on today was keeping my mind busy.

"You're distracted," Tori commented. 

I sent her an apologetic look. "I can't believe you're not after everything with Stacey this morning and all the rumors circling."

"It's not a big deal. Stacey is just being her usual dramatic self. No harm with a few words," she said.

"How about you call me later about everything that happened with Cait when I'm less distracted?" I suggested and she agreed. Unlike most people, we still always talked on the phone. The only time we really texted was to have random conversations, which usually included hilarious messages from Tori. She would click the first word that would come up on her keyboard from the autocorrect bar and keep doing that. It made a very interesting story sometimes, yet a long conversation.

Tori stared at something behind me with a glare. "Sorry, we don't sell cheap extensions over here." 

I turned to see who she was talking to. "Isn't one encounter with you enough?" I asked tiredly when I saw Stacey standing there.

"Very cute. Really, your comments stab me hard,” she said with a fake pout. "Fake model bitch and the boyfriend-stealing whore, glad to see you both are still as cocky as ever." She nodded her head slowly. "But here's the thing," She paused dramatically before increasing the sound of her voice so it was projecting across the loud cafeteria.

"I'm Stacey Heart. And no one messes with me or mine," she said before nodding to her friends. One each walked around us and, before I could even register what was happening, two cans of Coca-Cola were poured all over our heads.

"Don't get yourself in sticky situations that you can't get yourself out of, sweetheart," Stacey said with a sweet voice before her and her friends walked away with the smell of victory coating each and every one of them.

My eyes welled up at the attention. I wasn't much of a crier, but something about half of the school's eyes on me and hearing nothing but laughter didn't sit well with my insides.

I looked around the room. Where were the teachers? The principal? How did she get them to leave their spots at the front of the cafeteria?

"I'm gonna kill her," Tori hissed, pulling a piece of her wet, sticky hair away from her face.

"I'll get the knife," I muttered as I stood up. I grabbed my bookbag and headed toward the bathroom, knowing my best friend was following.

"This is terrible," I muttered, looking into the mirror.

"Hey, everyone, get out, there's a fire drill," Tori yelled, causing the girls who spent their lunch touching up their makeup to run out. Once everyone was out, she locked the door.

"I didn't even bring an extra pair of clothes," Tori said.

"All I have are my ones for later," I said, peeling my wet shirt away from my body while looking in the mirror. My pants looked like I’d peed myself.

"So, we're screwed?" I asked.

"Do you have anything in your car?" Tori questioned, and I frowned.

"Only way to know for sure is to go check," I said, pulling out my keys. We headed out the side doors of the school before going straight to my car. After unlocking it, we opened every bag I had in there, which turned out to be quite a lot since I was usually too tired to bring in my bags from my photo shoots.

"I forgot I had all of this back here," I said, lifting up a regular plastic bag with a pair of leggings and a jacket. "You can wear this," I suggested, looking at the black dress and blue flannel.  It was cute, but I couldn't remember where I received it from originally.

She nodded. "And you can wear this." She held up a white long-sleeved shirt with a furry vest and black shorts.

"I remember this; it's from the Free People catalog," I said, grabbing it from her hand and analyzing it. I’d worn it for a photo shoot and completely forgotten about it.

"It'll have to do. We have five minutes to get changed and get to class," she said. 

I sighed before grabbing everything and closing the trunk. "I'm going to regret this later," I muttered as we hurried into the front of the school.

When we returned to the bathroom, we quickly changed and it only took ten seconds of looking in the mirror to regret not going straight home.

My eyes welled up with tears. Everything was perfect until Stacey decided to make me her art project. My life was normal; Tori's life was normal. Why the hell was it all going downhill now?

I stared in the mirror, my hands leaning against the sink. I wiped away the leaking mascara and eyeliner from my eyes. I was thankful that I’d put so many layers on this morning for my cover.

"It's going to be okay," Tori said, rubbing my back. 

I couldn't help but let out a fake laugh. "None of this is okay. I'm not okay. All of this is not okay." I threw my hands up in the air.

"It will get better, sweetie," she tried to assure me. "Stacey is only temporary; don't let her get to you." 

I looked in the mirror at my appearance. Although I still had the fake nose and the heavy makeup that was already halfway off, everything looked so wrong. My glasses were still missing and I looked half prepared to walk a runway and start posing.

Maybe that's a bit dramatic, but you don't typically see a high school student in a style like this. It's unique and it involves the right look to pull it off. This hair and this face didn't have the look. But that's not what made it completely awful. It was the shorts that ruined it all. They were too tight, too short, and they showed everything.

"How the hell did I get in this situation? Stacey just couldn't have picked someone else. It's time for her to move on. I can't do this anymore. This stress isn't worth it," I said, shaking my head.

"I know. I know," Tori said, handing me a tissue.

"Do you see how much skin I'm showing?" I asked, throwing the tissue I used to clean up my makeup in the sink out of anger.

"Yes, trust me, those legs are as long as a bowling alley," she said, making me let out a small laugh.

"You're not funny," I pouted, looking back into the mirror.

"You're worrying too much," she said before looking me over. "Okay, maybe it's more than a little skin, but you still have your wig, which only has a little pop on it and people can't tell with those thick raccoon eyes. You're fine and all good to go. No one will notice you. Trust me, babe." 

"Only a few more classes?"

"Only a few more," she confirmed, while nodding her head up and down. "Now fix the wig and get to ccience. We're late and you know how Mr. Reagan gets when you're late." 

I quickly fixed the wig before we left the bathroom. "You're sure they won't notice?" I asked for the fifteen millionth time.

"I'm positive," she said one last time as we walked in.

"Ahh, Tori, Clover, it's wonderful for you to join us," Mr. Reagan said, frowning.

"Sorry we were late. I had a stomach ache, and Clover brought me to the nurse," Tori easily lied.

"Do you have a pass? And are you feeling better, Tori?"

"Yes, I'm feeling much better. Thanks for asking, and we told her she didn't have to sign one since the bell just went off. We could go back and get one if you'd like?" 

He shook his head. "You're fine, you girls can just go work on your project like everyone else." 

We went to our own partners, who were by each other, and I noticed Andrew was looking at me funny. 

I gave him a questioning look.

"How come you're kind of dressed up and hot looking?" he asked me.

"Where were you all day?" I questioned back. I hadn't seen him since the encounter this morning.

"Busy,” he replied.

"Sure, I didn't want to know anyway," I said sarcastically. "Your girlfriend and her loonies decided to pour their drinks all over Tori and I."

"Listen about yesterday—" he started suddenly, causing me to cut him off, putting a hand up.

"I know, let's just pretend the whole situation never happened. We'll meet somewhere else next time," I said, knowing he probably didn't want anyone to know about that side of him.

"Ooh, Andrewwww," a squeaky and increasingly annoying voice called from across the classroom, causing Andrew to silently swear and me to giggle.

Stacey stopped right in front of his desk and narrowed her eyes at me. "Look who decided to show up. I'm surprised, I thought for sure you and Tori would leave after you spilled pop like that earlier. Nice to see you clean up well." She looked at my outfit with calculating eyes.

"Nice to see some things never change with you, Stacey," I said plastering a fake smile.

She rolled her eyes before fixing her hair and focusing back on the devil himself. "You want to come over later?" Stacey purred, sitting on his lap. "We can just forget anything ever happened today."

"No, I'm good," he said carelessly.

"Awe, but, baby, I'm having a party tonight and plus, you don't want to hang out with this bitch," Stacey said, running her hand up and down his chest.

"I would rather hang out with this nerd than you, Sandy," Andrew said, making me frown slightly. Something about him calling me a nerd didn't sit well with me.

"It's Stacey and you know that. But whatever, you know where I live when you're too drunk to talk, so I'll see you later. Have fun with your next whore." She flipped her hair over her shoulder before standing straighter.

"Mr. Reagan!" Stacey yelled suddenly.

"Yes, Stacey?" Mr. Reagan asked with a tired sigh.

"Clover stole my outfit," she whined. 

I gasped. "I totally did not!"

"Yes, you did!" she whined again.

"Miss Thompson, is this true?" he asked.

"How on earth would I steal her outfit? She wouldn't even know where to buy a shirt like this," I said, getting defensive. I refused to let Stacey win something so petty.

"Just go take a seat. You two can work this out with security later if it's that big of a deal," he said. 

I sighed. She just had to mess with something in my life whenever she got a chance.

Stacey only huffed and sat back in her seat. Before anyone could comment on what just happened, the bell rung.

But through everything, my thoughts still went back to Andrew. He didn't seem to like Stacey, yet he let her lay all over him and I couldn't understand why. Maybe he pretended not to like her? I'm not sure, but it was something I definitely wouldn't let go if I wanted to crack who Andrew Carter really was. The part about him that bothered me the most was he's so intriguing, and I was extremely curious.