Ex-Factor (Diamond Girls) (8 page)

Oh God.
Shaking and on the verge of another panic attack, I sucked in a deep breath and closed my eyes.
Pull it together, Nev. Don’t let these people see what a head case you really are.

Riddled with nerves the night before, I’d failed to get a good look at the front half of the gym. Maybe if I focused on my surroundings, I could drown out the guilt eating away at my gut. The idea was pathetic, but worth a shot.

A large waiting area took up a good portion of the space upon entering the building. Comfy chairs, stools and a makeshift bar complete with coffee, water, juice, and snacks hugged the far wall. The wall to my immediate left was painted black and covered from floor to ceiling with pictures. Upon closer inspection, I found they were photos of the athletes during practice, at various competitions, and so forth.

To my right was a narrow hallway with two open doors, each wafting bright, incandescent light. The door closest to me was the office. I’d been in there when Aunt Trish and I signed my contract. The room behind it, though, was a mystery to me. The door had been closed and the light off when I’d last been here.

Curiosity must have been written all over my face because Livvie threw me a bone. “You want to check out the Pro Shop?”

“Pro Shop?” Interest piqued, I shuffled across the odd, gray, rubberized flooring and stopped just in front of the room in question. Racks of clothing hugged the walls, each one full of blinged-out tracksuits and bedazzled sweatshirts. Shelves filled with T-shirts, shorts, sports bras, and the like filled the white walled room in a riot of red, black, and white.

What caught my attention and held it was the wall directly in front of me. Four racks displaying uniform tops made of shiny red material jutted out from the wall, their long sleeves capped with black cuffs, and geometric cut-outs at the shoulder. The words “X-Factor” graced the front of the half-tops, the white lettering rimmed with black. The tops were sporty and sharp, as were the tiny black skirts that hung beneath them. Two black wicker baskets filled to the brim with red, sparkly bows rested on small shelves that flanked either side of the uniforms.

Impressive.

Coach Shea sauntered into the room, placed her arm around my shoulder, and smiled. “You ready for this?”

I blew out a shaky breath. I refused to let Aunt Trish and Livvie down. I could do this. I would do this. “Yep,” I said, forcing a smile. “Let’s do work.”

Chapter Seven

Status update:
3pm can’t come fast enough. Soooo ready for the weekend.

Three weeks had passed since my breakdown in the girls’ bathroom. And though no one besides Bodie had actually seen me cry, I couldn’t help but feel like people were being careful with me. It was an odd sensation, paranoia. It crept up on you, made you question yourself, your friends, and people’s motives. I’d expected to be Numero Uno on the gossip train around Grant High, but there’d been no mention of my squabble with Callie. At least, none that I’d heard—which, now that I hung around Claire, was saying something.

Were people not talking about it because they wanted to spare my fragile state of mind, or was I dwelling on something that had long since died out? I’d yet to tell Erin or the girls about my parents. I knew Livvie wouldn’t divulge that info without my permission, so the likelihood of them pulling a pity play for me was low.

Bodie’s strong, masculine face flashed behind my eyes. Had he kept my breakdown to himself? Was it possible he wasn’t a complete douche? Could I have been wrong about him like I’d been wrong about Eli? I wasn’t sure of anything, and it drove me nuts. The medicine my aunt doled out every morning seemed to hold my depression at bay but did little for my anxiety. My mind was a literal war zone of mishmashed thoughts and concerns, and I needed a break.

I ran my fingers along the open edge of my textbook as I sat in the back of my US History class, waiting for the bell to ring. Cartwright had procured the book on my third day of class, sparing me from both the agony and ecstasy of sharing with Bodie. Part of me missed sitting close to him. The warmth that radiated off his body. His mesmerizing scent of ocean and woods. The muscle in his jaw that rippled every time he spoke or swallowed.

Disgust rolled over me like a Mack truck. What the hell was my problem? Why on earth was I pining over a boy who wanted nothing to do with me? I thought back to his hate-filled stares. They’d all but disappeared after my lunchtime squabble with Callie, replaced with an expression I wasn’t entirely able to make out. Most of the time, he ignored me, but once in a while I caught him eyeing me with curiosity and something that looked like urgency. Like he wanted to say something to me, but when it came down to it, couldn’t be bothered to exert the energy. Those few times I spotted him staring ended with him shaking his head and looking away.

My cell buzzed, the vibration causing the bright pink phone to skitter dangerously close to the edge of my plastic desk. I palmed the high-tech gadgetry, already knowing whom the incoming text was from.

Eli: Hey, pretty lady. Don’t forget. The Homecoming game is tonight. I’ll be looking for you from the field. Save a dance for me after. E.

I powered off my phone with a sigh, and chucked the annoying device into my bag. Persistent to the point of irritation, Eli had bombarded me with a shower of text messages and handwritten notes I’d found hidden in my locker for a better part of the last week. My plan to ignore his unwanted attention had failed bitterly, the fact that I was forced to see him both first period and at lunch doing little to help the matter.

I couldn’t exactly tell him to take a flying leap in front of Erin, and making a scene in class was out of the question. My current plan, to remain civil but indifferent, wasn’t working out so well, either. I needed a new strategy pronto. I had no desire to go to the game or dance, and I sure as hell didn’t want to see him.

Leaving the house to go to school was one thing. I had no choice. If my butt didn’t show up, a truancy officer would come a-knockin’. Leaving the house to go to cheer was another issue altogether, and an enormous step for me—one that drummed up a hefty amount of grief. Every time I saw a blue mat, I ached for my ailing mother. Guilt gnawed at my gut each time I smiled after a tumbling pass, the urge to wallow in grief over my father’s passing a constant struggle.

Going out on Friday night with my new friends was like cleaning my teeth with a toothbrush made of razor blades. It hurt like hell, cut deep, and terrified me.

Cartwright breezed into the room seconds before the bell rang, Bodie rolling in right behind him.

“Cutting it pretty short there, Mr. Scott. Don’t you think?”

Bodie didn’t respond other than to nod his head, and Mr. C went about his business, scrawling a series of questions onto the board. “Have a seat, class, and open your books to page three hundred fifty. We’ll be discussing the infamous Watergate scandal today.”

A raspy, male voice shouted “Deep Throat!” from across the room, and the entire class burst into laughter. Well, everyone, except for me. I couldn’t seem to get past Bodie Scott.

My reactions to him intensified by the day, and I briefly wondered if there was some kind of pill my aunt could give me to dull my body’s reaction to him like my other meds did with my depression.

The closer Bodie got to his seat, the more heightened my senses became. When he finally sat down, kitty corner from me, I was sure my heart would explode out of my chest. Every inch of my body came alive the moment he’d stepped into the room, and every molecule shouted the same bothersome chant: all hail Bodie Scott. We want him, and we want him now.

Mr. C’s smooth voice carried over the waning laughter. “Okay. All right. Quiet in the peanut gallery. If you would please, pair up. After reading the required chapter,” he motioned toward the board behind him, “I’d like you to answer the following questions.”

The sound of metal scraping against tile flooded the room as students haphazardly slid their desks closer to their waiting partners.

Before I knew it, everyone had paired up—except for me and Bodie.

My heart dropped into my gut and my palms began to sweat.
Crap. This isn’t happening again.
Apparently, fate enjoyed watching me squirm.

Bodie turned around and eyed me with an odd, blank face. He seemed off, but the butterflies whirling in my gut distracted me from further notice, as did the swirling black ink peeking out from beneath his sleeve. Part of me wanted to reach out and touch it, run my fingers along the masculine curved design, tug at the fabric so I could see the rest. Or, better yet, remove the shirt altogether and have a good stare.

“Guess, uh, that leaves just you and me.” My mouth felt like it was full of sand, and my voice sounded rough and gravelly, as though I’d swallowed rocks then tried to sing.
God!
I wanted to smack myself. Why did I have to sound like such a loser?

Bodie nodded and slid out of his seat, staggering a bit before he came to rest in the chair beside me. His eyes were hooded, half closed as if he was fighting off a bad headache or looking into a bright light.

I slid my desk closer to his like I’d done before, leaned forward, and tilted my head to get a better look at his face. He didn’t look well. Didn’t look well at all. “Um, Bodie? Are you—”

“Shit,” he slurred, cutting me off. “It’s happening again. I’ve gotta—”

My heart leapt into my throat as Bodie’s entire body went stiff. His head flew back, his back arched off the seat, and his arms and legs began shaking violently.

In the back of my head, somewhere in the far off distance, I thought I’d heard someone scream. I wasn’t sure, and I couldn’t be bothered to check. The only thing that mattered to me was getting Bodie safely to the floor. I’d had a friend when I was little who suffered from epilepsy and knew from experience people in the midst of a seizure were very likely to harm themselves if they fell or bumped into something. I wasn’t going to let that happen to Bodie.

I leapt out of my seat and shoved my desk away, while somehow managing to shout a forceful “Mr. Cartwright!” Without even thinking, I grasped Bodie around the shoulders and eased him onto the floor. With a grunt, I shoved his desk and chair away, thankful we were at least sitting at the back of the classroom where there was more space for him to ride out his seizure.

My pulse roared in my ears, and my lungs ached from holding my breath. It had been years since I’d witnessed anyone suffer through a seizure, and it rocked me to my core to see Bodie, the strong, impenetrable boy I pined for, in such a vulnerable position.

Mr. Cartwright stood over me with his cell phone glued to his ear. He squeezed my shoulder and told me I’d done a good job, but his eyes continually darted toward the classroom door. It was apparent he felt every bit as panicked as the rest of the students.

A good twenty kids formed a makeshift circle and stood gawking at Bodie like he was a fish out of water, and not a teenage boy in trouble.

Heat scorched my cheeks and my jaw ached from gnashing my teeth. Bodie and I may not have been on the best of terms, but I sure as hell didn’t think he deserved to be made a spectacle of. “Stop it,” I screamed. “Stop staring. Give him some space. Have some respect!”

“All right, then,” a loud voice boomed. “Everybody clear the room, please.”

The roar of voices in the room quickly died down, and the circle of onlookers slowly filed away as the school nurse made her way to the back of the room. “You too,” she said, eyeballing me as if I was a fly she wanted to swat.

Stricken, I glanced down at Bodie, who’d finally stopped shaking, then back to the nurse. She wore an aging gray sweatshirt and mom jeans, and her brown, curly hair was cut into an eighties-style mullet. I mashed my lips together and shook my head. I wasn’t sure why—you could hardly call us friends—but for whatever reason, I didn’t want to leave Bodie’s side.

Mr. Cartwright pulled me up from the floor by my elbow and ushered me to the door. “Sorry, Nev. School protocol. Everyone leaves until Bodie gets an all clear.”

I glanced toward the back of the room right before I cleared the threshold. Bodie was sitting, largely supported by the brawny nurse who knelt behind him, groggily attempting to answer her questions. He appeared tired and worn. Which was exactly how I felt as I stepped out of the room.

***

The sun rode high in the sky, the lack of clouds and wind providing zero relief from the scorching heat. Indigo Falls was experiencing an Indian summer, and though I was a sun worshipper in desperate need of a tan, all I wanted to do was go home, slide into bed, and sleep.

I slid my half-eaten sandwich back into its plastic sleeve and washed down the bite in my mouth with a sip of soda. It tasted like cardboard and fizz, and I grimaced.

“Still rattled over what happened in History?” Erin asked. She leaned in close and gave me a sideways hug as I nodded my head.

“Seizures are scary,” Claire piped in. “I saw a girl drop in the middle of competition once, and it freaked me the hell out.”

“It’s not that,” I said, shaking my head. “Seizures don’t scare me. It was just…” I didn’t know how to say it without giving myself away. I didn’t want to admit I was upset because it had been Bodie that went down, and I had feelings for him. Call me crazy, but I didn’t want my friends to know I had it bad for the hot guy who hated my guts.

Erin gave me another squeeze, then went back to her bagel. “It’s a good thing seizures don’t bother you,” she said with her mouth full. “They’ve been a regular thing with Bodie ever since the accident.”

There it was again—the accident. Tayla mentioned something about an accident at lunch a few weeks before, but Callie had cut me off with her horrid display of ugliness before I’d had a chance to ask her about it.

I glanced across the quad to where Bodie usually sat with a group of linemen from the varsity team. His seat was empty; word around school was he’d gone home due to exhaustion.