The Masks We Wear by Lee Jacquot

 

SIX

 

Spencer hasn’t been to school the whole week. Five damn days.

I knew he would be pissed, maybe a little embarrassed—I mean, that was the intended goal, but this is ridiculous. We still have a project to get done and today is the deadline for our submission.

Not to mention my nerves have been wound up tight as hell, waiting to see how he would respond. I didn’t really think about the after-effects of the plan. I just knew I needed him to keep quiet, and this was my best chance at getting some leverage.

My pulse spikes, a sudden thought drowning out all the others.

What if he moved away?

Went back to his mom’s and said fuck this project...fuck me.

The air in the room seems thinner—like it did every last day of summer all those years. He came and consumed my life in ways I couldn’t describe, but when he left, he took that with him, leaving everything a little less colorful. Less beautiful. It’s as though I was tolerating the bleak life I had, biding my time until he came back.

Leaning back in my chair, I huff and stare daggers into my phone. My fingers itch to text him and find out. Put me out of this disturbing misery. But I can’t. I’ve put myself in such a stupid conundrum, my head throbs against the internal struggle.

I rub the ache in my temples, still staring at the phone. Every time the screen dims, I tap it, bringing it back to life, and hope a notification will pop up.

Why would he reach out to you after what you did?

The nerve in my molar sends a spike of pain down my jaw as I grind my teeth. I don’t want him to reach out about us, but I do need the grade for this class. And if he did move away, the teacher would have told me.

Failing would be just as bad as Spencer disclosing all my secrets. I need to get an A in this damn class, and I have no clue how I can do that without him.

“He’s already turned in the submission to Mr. Jones.”

My attention snaps to the voice, it’s soft, but there’s a bite in her tone.

It’s the girl with the hexagon glasses. Her inky hair brushes against her jaw as she straightens her spine, and I almost think she means to be intimidating. Her oval-shaped face mocks me with its symmetry. Even her lips have the perfect cupid’s bow.

Irritation licks at my nerves. Partially because she’s a natural beauty that doesn’t seem to appreciate it, hiding her tiny body in hideous oversized T-shirts. And also, I can begrudgingly admit because she’s spoken with Spencer about our project.

I prop my elbow on the lab table, feigning boredom, and blink slow. “Is that so?”

The small girl scoffs, folding thin arms across her chest. “It is. Not that you even need to know. As if you really planned to help.”

It’s a struggle to keep my face indifferent against the flare of anger coiling deep in my belly. This girl is a friend. A good one, I’m guessing, since she knows about my text to Spencer from that night. It begs to wonder what else she knows.

I flip my hair over my shoulder and drum my fingers on the dingy table. I wait a few seconds before letting my eyes flit back to her. “Was there something else?”

Her eyes narrow, but she shuffles on her feet before she answers. “I think what you did was pretty horrible.”

My eyes flutter closed before I sigh, turning back to my phone. A good friend indeed. To call me out, even privately, tells me I may need to look into their relationship a little more. “Okay, hun.”

“Remy,” she clips, in need to correct me.

Instead of talking, already having used too many words, I roll my neck and lean back. Thankfully, she gets the hint, turning on her heels and saunters to the front, leaving an odd energy in her wake. It’s unsettling that she knows, but the way her voice wavered just now says she’s at least unnerved by me. That’s something–means she can be frightened into silence if need be.

But the whole encounter goes to show, Spencer can’t keep a secret. Rule two from a contract we once made. The penalty was a punch to the gut, if I recall.

I run my tongue over my top teeth, tugging on my necklace until it pinches the skin. My stomach is hollow, and instead of a flutter, it feels like a snake is swirling around the organs, making me nauseous.

I wonder what else he’s told her.

Finally, I grab my phone with one hand and massage the knot in my neck with the other. I swallow down the bile and type.

Me: I need a stress reliever.

I don’t have to wait long for a response.

Blaze: Say less.

“AGAIN!” I screech across the field, throwing my water bottle on the ground.

We’ve been at practice too damn long for the counts to still be this off. We only have a few minutes before we need to clear out and get ready for the game, and these girls are nowhere near ready. This is exactly why we’ve already started practicing for regionals. They’re fumbling on top of one another, missing beats, and pissing me off with their lack of determination. And if there’s one thing I hate more than a clumsy cheerleader, it’s a lazy one.

I’ve lost countless amounts of sleep in order to perfect a routine before. I would eat, sleep, and breathe the damn counts until Blaze forced me to rest, and even then, I was watching videos of practice. I’ve worked hard, still do. I am proof that no matter what anyone tells you, you can do anything you set your mind to. Not only that, but excel, and be the best there ever was.

Make them envy you. Remember you.

Amora’s blue eyes narrow in on me, her chest heaving as she rallies the girls. “Let’s go bitches! Pull your head out of your ass and do it right so we can fucking go!”

There’s a chance I may also just be projecting, but I don’t really care. The sickness from earlier has yet to subside, and I can’t focus. My insides are rolling, and every few minutes, I have to swallow down the bitter bile.

That girl, Remy, could serve as an entirely different issue. First, I’m irritated that I don’t know the nature of their relationship. I mean, considering he was about to be balls deep inside of me last week, it can’t be too serious. But her knowing what happened means they’re close enough that he trusts her.

And that bothers me. It grates against my nerves, forcing me to be a little more sensitive than I should.

What makes her so visible when I was anything but?

“Tuck your fucking knees!” I instruct Stacy, tugging my ponytail down for the fifteenth time.

I need to figure out how much she knows about me. Find out just what mini Katherine Johnson might say to the wrong people, given a chance. My wheels begin to turn, just as Amora nails her landing.

“About fucking time!” I ignore the sighs of relief that echo through the girls. “Shower and be ready by six-thirty.”

I leave the field, not waiting for them to follow, and barrel into the locker room. I exhale a long breath when I see Blaze leaning against my locker, a white towel dangling from his index finger. His white T-shirt pulls across his chest then pools at his waist, where his own towel is tied. What kind of a guy showers before a game?

My broken little knight, that’s who.

Blaze has always had the weirdest quirks, most of which are tied to things he doesn’t even let me see. I may get the privilege to read more of him than others, but even I’m limited to specific chapters.

He tilts his head, brows raised. “Coming?”

Nodding, I accept the cotton towel and follow him to the showers—the private one at the end is already steaming. I throw Blaze a grin before stripping down and slipping inside, closing the curtain behind me.

“The party is set.” His smooth voice sounds over the crash of water in my ears.

The temperature is perfect, a few degrees before scalding, and it pounds into my muscles, relieving some of the tension from earlier. “I need another favor, B.”

I’m met with silence, so I continue. “There’s a girl I need to be there. I have a feeling she may know a little too much, and I can’t invite her myself.”

“Name.”

“Remy.”

More silence. Only this one feels like a pause, a shift perhaps. I bite the inside of my cheek as I wait. Maybe there’re lots of Remys. “I don’t know her las—”

“Solace.”

My eyebrows shoot into my hairline. “Like Solace University, Solace?”

“The one and only.”

Shit.Solace University is a private institution damn near hidden in Emerald Falls Forest on the edge of the city. It’s elite and only for the rich and genius. It was my dream school before I realized the magnitude of money you need to go there.

And money is something I don’t have. Not anymore. It’s tied to my father in Texas, who would love a chance to feel like a father by throwing some at me. Which was reason number one, I dropped the idea of going to Solace and decided to pave my own way.

I sigh, popping open my lavender body wash. If she has ties to Solace University, I definitely can’t fuck with her. I’ll need another tactic. “Play nice, and make sure she comes.”

He lets out a yawn, pulling back the curtain, and dips his head to kiss my cheek. “Anything else?”

“No, thank you, Blaze. Good luck tonight.”

“You, too.” He pushes his now damp black hair out of his face and replaces the curtain. I chuckle as shrieks and gasps echo through the showers as girls make their way inside.

Closing my eyes, I lean against the cool tile.

The weight of everything is getting heavy, and I begin to wonder what it would be like just to let it go.

I bet I would be able to breathe again.