Chapter 2: We used to be friends

QUINN

"Some people think they're so much better than the rest of us. So much smarter."

The voice behind me was all too familiar. A mix of apprehension and annoyance flooded my mind. Trish Dawson. Perfect. Just who I needed to deal with today.

Clenching my jaw and kept walking. I'd learned through painful experience that ignoring girls like Trish was the only way to deal with them. It didn't make them stop, and it definitely didn't make me feel better, but pretending they didn't exist let me hold onto some dignity.

"Hey, queer queen. I'm talking to you." She was closer to me than I'd thought, and so I wasn't ready when she reached around and knocked the notebooks out of my arms.

I felt my face go hot as I stopped to pick up the books. This wasn't my first experiencing with being bullied; I figured they'd laugh and move away. But this time, they didn't. Trish and the other three girls formed a small, tight circle around me, all of them smirking.

"What's the matter, queen? Clumsy today?" Original insults weren't Trish's strong suit. She'd been calling me queen or queer queen since freshman year. I guessed in her limited intellect, Quinn didn't lend itself to anything more demeaning.

I began to stand up, all of my stuff in one hand, but another of the girls shoved at my shoulder, pushing me back.

"We didn't like what you wrote about the cheer squad. You need to stop saying stuff like that."

I affected an expression of shock. "Really? You can read? Wow, let me go alert the media. I think we just found our headline for next week's paper."

Trish's eyes narrowed. "Listen, bitch-"

"No, you listen." I stared back at her. "It's an editorial. My opinion. I can write what I want."

Trish's face took on an ugly sneer. "No one cares what you think. So maybe you should-"

"Leave her alone."

Leo. Now my heart was pounding in earnest. He stood on the other side of Trish, his muscled arms folded over his broad chest. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

Kylie, Trish's right-hand minion, glanced at him. "This isn't any of your business, Leo. We've got it covered. Run along."

"Quinn's a friend of mine, and she didn't do anything to you. So yeah, it's my business." He pushed between Trish and Kylie, grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. The girls were still surrounding us, but all I could think was Leo is holding my hand. His palm was pressed against mine, warm and so full of strength I wanted to cry.

Trish glared at me, one finely-arched eyebrow raised. I knew that look; it meant we'll finish this later. Fabulous.

She and her posse turned and stalked away, still giggling. But I didn't even spare them a glance, because I couldn't tear my eyes away from my hand in Leo's. My fingers were completely enveloped in his grasp. He was saying something, but I was too preoccupied by the buzzing in my ears to pay attention.

"Quinn, what was that all about?" He repeated himself, frowning, and let go of my hand. I felt immediately bereft and had to stop myself from reaching toward him.

"Um, it was nothing." I took a step back away from Leo. "Stupid cheerleaders."

His forehead creased, and I realized I was talking crap about girls who were probably his friends now. Maybe more than friends. God only knew what he'd done with some of them; I'd heard stories about football parties and what happened there. I was only too aware of the rumors that were whispered about Leo and his prowess off the field. I only hoped he hadn't hooked up with Trish. I could handle anything but that.

"What were they talking about? What did you write to set them off?"

Now annoyance flared, almost overshadowing the want surging through my veins. It was typical of Leo these days; he'd never assume I was blameless. It had to be me who'd written something wrong.

Plus, this confirmed something I'd suspected-that Leo didn't read my articles. He gave my work at the school paper great lip-service, but now I knew the truth.

"Maybe if you read the school newspaper now and then, you'd know. I guess this means you don't make it a priority to read my editorials."

"I don't read anything but school stuff during football season." He shook his head. "No time. So what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything." I hissed out the words. Of course, it was my fault that those bitches were threatened by me. Leo would see it that way. Once upon a time, he would've stuck up for me no matter what, but those days were in the past. "I wrote an opinion piece about the special treatment the cheerleaders get. It's nothing that everyone else in the school isn't thinking. Guess some of them obviously didn't like it. No biggie."

Leo ran a hand through his hair, his go-to gesture when he was exasperated. "Mia, are you crazy? That's not exactly the way to make friends."

Pain sliced through me. Leo rarely used his special nickname for me anymore, and hearing him say it-his voice husky-reminded me of how far apart we'd drifted. And now he was giving me advice on finding friends? What kind of loser did he think I was?

"Gee, thanks, Leo. This is all good information. Funny, though. I didn't know I needed help making friends. I used to have some really good ones, once upon a time."" The words were laced with sarcasm.

Leo winced. "I'm still your friend, Quinn, you know that. But couldn't you try a little harder? I mean, with other people? Sometimes you have to play the game to get along in the world."

The truth was right there in his voice. I was an embarrassment to him. Poor Quinn, the geeky girl who just couldn't seem to find her own circle. The girl who reminded Leo of a part of him he'd turned his back on when football and popularity became more important. The impact of what he was saying hurt, and I lashed out in response.

"The people I'd want for my friends wouldn't expect me to be a phony. They would accept me for who I am." I leaned forward a little, just to make sure he heard me.

"You don't think I do?" Leo looked stricken, as though what I'd said was some huge revelation.

Anger bubbled up inside me. I was sick of the whole thing. Sick of mooning after this boy, sick of the pain of losing my best friend. Sick of him pretending nothing had changed, when everyone else in the world knew that it had. I took another step back and spoke in a low voice.

"I don't know, Leo. Do you even know who I am anymore?"

Before he could respond, I wheeled around and started walking away as fast as I could. I knew he wouldn't follow me, though in my fantasy world, Leo did chase after me, grab me by the arm and push me up against the wall between two sets of lockers. What happened next in my daydreams was something I couldn't bear to think about just now.

"Hey, wait up, Quinn!" It wasn't Leo calling me-big surprise-but I slowed anyway, turning at Gia Capri jogged up. "What the hell is going on?"

My eyebrows drew together. "What do you mean? I'm heading to the newspaper office." Gia and I were both on staff at the paper; it was how we'd gotten to know each other.

She gave me round eyes. "I just overheard Trish Dawson talking all kind of shit about you. She was practically spitting like a cat-and Leo Taylor was mentioned, too. What did you do?"

This was the second time I'd been asked this question within a few minutes, and it didn't improve my mood.

"She was pissed about the editorial. Big surprise. She'll get over it." I hesitated before going on. "Leo happened to overhear us. He got in her face about picking on me, so that's why you heard his name, too."

"Eeek. What a bitch." Gia slung an arm around me. "But at least you had a hot guy stick up for you. Got to count that as a win."

"Maybe." Gia hadn't known me back when Nate, Leo and I were best friends. She'd gone to a different elementary school, and we'd only met in high school. I wondered if anyone but me remembered when we'd been the inseparable trio.

"Let's go vent to Jake about all this. He lives for this power to the press shit, you know? If you tell him Trish Dawson harassed you, he'll probably organize a protest rally by tonight."

I snorted. "Because that's what I need. A protest." Shaking my head, I hugged my notebooks to my chest. "Okay, let's go. I need to talk with Ms. Nelson about next week's columns, anyway."

When we turned into the small corner classroom that housed the newspaper office, Jake Donavan was sitting at a desk, his eyes fastened on the computer screen. He glanced up at us with a smile.

"Hey, Q! We're getting lots of response on your cheerleader editorial. Want to read some of the comments?"

Gritting my teeth, I slid a chair out from beneath the long, cluttered counter that went all the way around the room and dropped into it, letting my head sag against the back of the seat as my eyes closed. Gia hopped up to perch on the counter, facing me, her legs swinging.

"Quinn just got an up-close and personal comment on that piece, thanks. We thought you should know."

I sighed and swung my head to look at Jake, just barely opening my eyes.

He frowned at me. "What happened?"

I gave a grunt and rolled my shoulders. "I had a run-in with Trish. Let's just say her response was decidedly in the against column. She's not a happy camper."

"Shit." He spun his chair around to face me. "When you say run-in, do you mean she spewed venom at you, or ...she didn't, like, actually get physical, did she?"

I quirked at eyebrow at him. "Are you worried about me, or are you intrigued by the idea of a chick fight?"

Gia hooted. "You took the words right out of my mouth, Quinn."

Jake laughed. "Your opinion of the male of the species could use some work, Q. Of course, I was just concerned about you." His lips curved up into a wicked smile. "But if you want to tell me how she pushed you down, and then you pulled her hair, please. Feel free."

"Perv." I crumpled up a sheet of newsprint and tossed it at him. "Sorry, but it didn't get that involved. She knocked my books down, and then she and her goonies stood over me while I was trying to pick them up. I guess she might've gone further if-" I stopped abruptly, and Jake waved his hand in a go-on gesture.

"If?"

"If Leo Taylor hadn't been there to save the day," Gia sang. "Our very own football hero sent the bitches running."

I glared at Gia. "Not quite. He stepped in, and they left. Not without a subtle warning that we weren't quite finished, but you know them. There's not much long-term memory there. Trish will forget all about me the next time she has to memorize another cheer routine."

"You're probably not wrong. But still ...if she gives you trouble, say something to Ms. Nelson. She'll take care of it."

I propped my feet on the counter desk, nudging Gia out of the way. "Ms. Nelson always tells us that genuine journalism can sometimes make people edgy, and we need to be prepared to deal with the fallout. Right?"

"Sure, but Q, this is a high school newspaper, not the Washington Post. No one expects you to put your safety on the line for the sake of an editorial."

A new voice from the doorway of the newspaper office made Jake, Gia and me jerk our attention in that direction.

"Why would you be putting your safety on the line?"