Chapter #20Red Harvest by: Seuzz   Luke doesn't bring you to any kind of climax, he just leaves you panting and groaning and twitching while he hobbles off to spend himself into the nearby bushes. It leaves you digging the heel of your hand into your eye and wondering—with Annabelle's regret and your own relief—why you don't just start going all the way with him. He at least gets to get off when you get together. You're left with an unreachable itch.
You know the answer, of course. Although Annabelle would trust Luke not to dump her after he's had his fun, she wouldn't trust him to be careful as he needs to be on his end, which would leave her needing to be as careful as she could on hers. And the last thing Annabelle wants is go on birth control, with or without her parents' knowledge.
Although if you got her pregnant (accidentally!), then slipped into another identity, leaving one of those magical robots to take Annabelle's place—
These thoughts are interrupted by Luke's return. He's still shirtless, and his jeans are hanging off the tops of his hips, exposing the hemline of his briefs—loudly emblazoned with the HANES logo—to the world. "Mmm, hey," he murmurs as he leans over you. You reach up to clasp him about the neck. "Was it fun for you too?"
"Oh, psssh! Fun for you!" you grumble. "Me, I'm still—" You twist your hips and kick your feet into the air. "Love me some more."
"I can't, I'm all—"
You groan, then pull his face down to your naked breasts. "Luke," you mewl as you stroke the back of his head. "You do love me, don't you?"
"Sure I do, babe. You know I—"
"Then why don't you try it again? With your tongue?"
* * * * *
He doesn't. It's the one sore spot in the relationship. Luke gags when he gets his nose down anywhere close to Annabelle's cooch.
You don't make a big deal of it, but you do shut down the makeout session by telling him you have to get home. Luke acts like a whipped cur.
At home you peel off your clothes and dump them in the hamper, then dive into a hot, soapy shower; afterward, you change into a short robe and return to your bedroom to tackle the last of your homework. You turn off your phone so you won't have to bother with the texts from Heather and Veronica asking what the hell Chelsea Cooper wanted to talk to you about. But you still have a hard time concentrating, because you keep thinking of Scarlett Bard.
The girl you've decided to "recruit" to your cause.
You try to deny it, but eventually you have square up and face the fact: She angers you, and that's the reason you are going to do this thing to her. Turn her into a robot who will work with you.
Oh sure, you tell yourself there's other reasons; good, practical reasons. Scarlett is not unpopular, but she strikes you as a schemer—as a Deanna equivalent, you suppose—and someone with that kind of brain could be useful. Also, you are still entertaining the idea of adding Bastian, and maybe his bandmates, to your string, because they are popular, and Scarlett could easily get you to them.
But mostly it's anger that moves you. (Or moves Annabelle; you yourself would feel nothing about Scarlett Bard.) Scarlett is transparently manipulative, and narcissistic, and undeserving of the attention she garners for herself. Oblivious, too, to the image others have of her. That, you suppose, is the main reason you want to take her down. She's an offensive joke, and doesn't realize in the slightest what an offensive joke she is.
But it's her narcissism, her preening pride, that will get her for you. You turn on your phone long enough to text Chelsea, to tell her what you want to do and how she can help you get it.
* * * * *
Friday. All anything anyone can talk about is the weekend.
"You going to the Warehouse tonight?" Harmony Keener, one of your best friends, wants to know. She clutches you at your locker.
"Luke's working tonight."
"So? That means you can see him out there!"
A suspicion crosses your mind. "Are you going to the Warehouse? But I thought you and me and Veronica were going to Legends!" you exclaim when she nods. "With—!"
"I'm tagging along with Mackenzie and Michael. Your friend Anne asked them to come with." She bounces on the balls of her feet. "I think Thomas might be going along too!" That would be Thomas Schmitz, a junior who made it onto the varsity squad.
And it's basically like that all day long: friends making plans for the night, and sacrificing your company to make them.
Which is okay. You've got plans of your own for the night.
* * * * *
"Gordon's being a butt," Chelsea fumes as you march alongside her into the city library. It's after eight, and Deanna, who went on ahead, has texted to saymthat the third floor is clear of city employees. "He's been a butt ever since—" She casts you a sidelong look. "Ever since we partnered up. But get this!" She prattles on, like an angry mosquito, about the dumb fight she got into with him because she told him she had "stuff to do" tonight before she could meet him up in the loft. "I just about told him I'd changed my mind and didn't want to meet him. But I guess we have to keep up appearances." She giggles. "Though I can think of someone else I'd rather play cuddle-buggums with."
Cuddle-buggums? you wonder. But you don't query it.
Deanna is waiting in the conference room, and she and Chelsea make themselves comfortable at the head of the table while you sit at the foot and set out your supplies and gear. You can do your homework later this weekend, and Luke is busy at the Warehouse, so you had time to go to the basement and make another mask, for use on Scarlett. Still, you are anxious. You have those plans with Heather and Veronica.
Chelsea and Deanna are both occupied with their phones, but they look up every now and then to exchange news and commentary on things they've found and are following. You spend your time drumming your fingers.
Finally, Chelsea looks up to tell you that Scarlett has texted to say she's arrived. At a nod from you, Deanna hurries from the conference room. You cradle the new mask in your hand, and move into a corner of the room, near the door.
You hear muffled voices in the hallway, and tense. The door opens inward, and you slide in behind it. Someone comes in, but you catch yourself before you can strike: it's Deanna. She catches sight of you from the corner of her eye, and freezes; you show her your teeth, and with a stammer she jumps out of the way.
Now Scarlett steps in. Like Deanna, she glances behind the door and spots you. You don't hesitate, though, but shove the mask at her face. She staggers back a step, bounces off a of leather-backed chair, and tumbles hard to the ground, where she lies crumpled.
You and Deanna exchange wide-eyed glances of shock, then you kick the door shut and bend over Scarlett. She is laying twisted on her side, and for a moment you hesitate to move her; but then, as Deanna shifts her legs, you reach under Scarlett's armpits and shift her onto her back. Her face is pale and her eyes staring. Unnerved by the sight, you push her lids down.
* * * * *
"We're going to be friends, Scarlett," you tell your newest partner after she's awake and on her feet. (Fortunately, she doesn't seem to have taken any harm from her fall.) "But secret friends. We're not going to tell }anyone about this." You squeeze her arm and give her a conspiratorial smile. She returns your grin with a blank stare. Then a smile creases her face.
Over the next half hour you outline your plans to her, with eager help from Deanna and Chelsea: How you are making "secret friends" and joining them into a "secret club," and how you will be making the school a friendlier place for you and your "secret friends." "We're going to be running things at school," you tell her, "after we've made enough 'secret friends'. You like that idea, right?"
"Yes," she says tentatively. But her "Totally," which she adds after you've given her an encouraging nod, is a lot more enthusiastic.
"Awesome. Now sit down and tell me all about yourself."
* * * * *
It's an interesting and revealing conversation. You can't say you come out the other side of it liking or respecting "Scarlett" Bard more. But you understand her better. And even better than that, you understand how to twist the girl's ambitions and resentments in furtherance of your own. You are well satisfied when you send her off to keep her regular Friday night date with her boyfriend, but with plans to meet tomorrow.
"What do you think?" you ask Deanna and Chelsea when Scarlett has gone.
"Sorry," Deanna says, "I can't picture her at all joining Slow Fast Hazel, let alone the Hi-Hats."
"She could," you muse, "if she, you know, hooked up with Jelena. The way she got onto Los Scorchicos by hooking up with Bastian."
"Jelena wouldn't hook up with her."
"She might if we added her to the club."
Deanna's eyes widen, and she and Chelsea exchange a gleeful glance.
Yes, Scarlett isn't content with playing in a cute-boy, underclassman band. She wants to move to the top, and Slow Fast Hazel is about as close to the top as you can get among local high school bands. And Jelena Petrovic, the band's leader and vocalist, is both gay and very cool. A natural influencer who would work well on your team, now that you think of it.
But that would take some work. Much quicker to execute would be the idea you got after this afternoon's talk with Harmony: Lasso in Anne Starkey, then use her to make some replacements on the football team. And quicker still to execute an earlier thought: to use her to add Bastian and his band.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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