Chapter 10 Don't mess with me (2)

“What did you just say to me?“

“I don't care. It's not like it's gonna be on me.” I replied aggressively, “You know, chemical fiber clothes don't even deserve to stay in the laundry.”

“Pick up my clothes, bitch.”

“Why? Because you're on a disability program grant?”

Stella stares at me with wide eyes, itching to stretch her false eyelashes and stick them in my eyes.

“You're going to regret saying that.”

The three girls watching the show gather around, a mafia do-gooder, maybe a female version of the Russian mob.

“Hey.” Someone laid a hand on my shoulder. "I think this is yours."

I turned to see who it was. She took off the jacket slung over her back, hooking it with a finger, and extended it toward Stella's arm. "Brooklyn sent me to find her. The locker room can be quite the labyrinth for the newcomers."

Stella gave a side-eye to the girl next to her, who cleverly grabbed the jacket from the newcomer's hand. "You better hurry to check in; Brooklyn is counting heads."

"Girls," Stella commanded. The other three obediently followed her lead.

As they walked away, I turned my attention to the girl who had intervened. "Thank you."

"It's nothing, just doing my part. Don't mind Stella; she's just looking for another bag carrier."

"Aren't three people enough for her?"

"I guess she's one hand short."

I couldn't help but laugh, understanding her joke. "B section is on your left; just turn around, and you'll see the signs on the wall."

"I thought you were going to lead the way."

"I wish I could, but I snuck out of the lineup, so..."

"Okay, I get it."

Wait. It suddenly dawned on me. She came over to help me secretly? How did she notice? Just as I was about to ask, she spoke up first.

"Nice seeing you again, Scarlett Moore."

"Hey, what do you mean, 'again'? Have we met before?"

I shouted after her retreating figure. She turned back with a smile but didn't stop. Then, she turned around, disappearing outside the locker room door.

I searched my mind for any familiar face that matched hers, but none fit. She must have mistaken me for someone else, or she had changed significantly.

I made my way to section B, searching through the identical locker doors for number 95. Not an easy task.

"You're new here, right?" A girl leaned against the locker behind me, arms crossed.

"Yes."

She uncrossed her arms and walked over, hands in her pockets. "I'm Remi, and you?"

"Scarlett Moore."

"That Scarlett Moore?"

"What about it?"

"Nothing, just that you're quite famous around here."

"That can't be; I'm new."

"Every girl here is talking about you."

Brooklyn's words suddenly made sense. I was not just the new girl but also Penelope's competition. Now everyone was curious about who I was.

"Maybe. Do you know where my locker is?"

"See that corner back there? The one covered in paint."

"What a 'warm' welcome."

I ignored the insults, pretending the locker was as clean as any other. The oversized cheerleading top and skirt hung on the hanger, looking like they were specially made for someone much larger. The top was manageable, but the skirt's elastic band wouldn't fit me at all.

"You must be special if they're jealous of you."

"Jealous? Why would they think that? I'm no threat."

Remi raised an eyebrow, giving me a once-over. "Who knows? At least they're a bunch of losers."

"Hey, are you on the cheerleading squad?"

I clung to a sliver of hope, praying Remi might lend me an old uniform.

"No."

Her voice became guarded.

"Then why are you here?"

My tone turned plaintive. Why couldn't anyone help when I felt most vulnerable?

"I came to see a friend, but now I have to go."

"Wait, do you have a hairpin or something?"

"What do you need a hairpin for?"

I pulled the skirt from the locker, holding it up for Remi to see. "I could use an old one."

"Why would you have...?"

Remi's eyes widened in warning, signaling me not to probe further if I wanted the old skirt.

"Stay here."

Alright, she was cautious. But of course, that only piqued my curiosity further.

After a moment, Remi emerged from behind a row of lockers, holding a small-sized cheerleading uniform. I didn't expect her to bring an extra small top as well.

She stood before me, holding the uniform but not immediately handing it over, looking into my eyes. "Promise me, Scarlett, don't tell anyone I was here."

"I'd love to thank you for everything you've done, but Brooklyn is the cheerleading captain and my friend, so... if an outsider comes to the cheer room, you should at least greet her."

"No, you can't, Scarlett."

Remi shook the uniform slightly.

"Given your current situation, you'd better not cause yourself any more trouble."

"You understand what I mean, right?"

"Of course, I won't make trouble for myself."

"Good."

She handed me the uniform, slipping her hands back into her pockets casually. "It should fit perfectly."

She glanced at my waist, confirming her assumption.

"I should go now."

"I should be thanking you. Without your help, I wouldn't know how to face the others."

She shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were a minor deed. "Goodbye, Scarlett. Good luck."