The Queen B* and the Homecoming King (10 page)

“It’s still a threat, Richard.”

“It’s just words.” He tried to take the paper from me, but this time, I didn’t let go.

“But this is the third message.” I tried holding it up in the air, but when he almost snatched it away from me, I stuffed it in the one place he wouldn’t dare go.

Inside my bra.

He put his hand on his hip and looked up at the ceiling with a small groan. “Not fair, Alexis.”

“You should take this seriously,” I argued, ignoring the uncomfortable bulge the wad of paper created against my chest. “Someone’s targeting you.”

“As much as I’d hope the world would get over it and move on, someone’s always targeting me. It’s part of being gay.”

“But it shouldn’t be.” I grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the principal’s office. “Don’t you find it a little more than ironic
that once Principal Lee put you in charge of the anti-bullying committee last week, you started getting those notes?”

I left out the part where they’d also been preceded by Sanchez’s threats.

Richard shook himself free from me. “I’m going to be late to class.”

He turned around and walked away from me.

Fine. If he wasn’t troubled by it, then so be it. Whoever wanted to intimidate him had failed,
and that was a plus. However, I wasn’t ready to so easily dismiss it.

The Queen B* had found a new case to crack for her blog.

***

When I arrived to fourth period, Summer appeared to be on the brink of tears as she said something to Brett. I couldn’t tell if it was jealousy or smugness that rose into the back of my throat, but it all vanished when he saw me and stepped away from her mid-conversation.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he said softly to me before giving me a little smile and turning back to Summer.

Although part of me was happy he interrupted the head cheerleader to speak to me, the other part of me wondered what was so important that he needed to finish his conversation with her. Even though I knew he was probably telling her she had no chance with him, I couldn’t ignore the
irrational fear that she was trying to steal him from me.

Of course, now he also knew what a manipulative bitch she was, so he was less likely to fall for her sob stories and be at her beck and call like he’d been.

He slumped into his chair as the bell rang. “Geez, she needs some serious help,” he said, running his hand along the side of his face.

My worries faded, and I couldn’t resist the
urge to ask, “What’s going on with Summer?”

He looked at me as though he was weighing the consequences of revealing the topic of the conversation. There was little love between me and Summer, and I’d targeted her more than once on my blog. “It’s…stuff.”

Of course Brett would be too much of a gentleman to reveal Summer’s secrets. And I was too occupied with Richard’s harasser to delve into the
matter. I managed to pull the note from this morning out just before Mr. DePaul started his lecture and slid it under the table to Brett.

He read it, and his brows drew together and formed a deep crease above his nose. Then he gave it back to me and opened up his instant messaging program.

Do you know why someone would give this to you?
he wrote.

Not me
, I typed back.
It was in Richard’s locker
this morning. 3
rd
one he’s gotten
.

Why would someone mess with him?

The other two notes called him a fag.
I glared at Sanchez and wished I could burn holes into the back of his head with my eyes.

Brett looked up from his keyboard and followed my gaze. His jaw tightened until the muscle that ran alongside it bulged.
I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not him.

How do you know what I’m thinking?

Because I know you’ve been after Sanchez all week, and I’m telling you it’s not him.

My hackles rose from Brett defending him. Brett always tried to find the good in people, and although it worked in my favor, it pissed me off when it came to obvious assholes like Summer and Sanchez.
But he’s already threatened Richard once this week, not to mention what he did to him last week.

And I’ve already
warned him to lay off
, Brett typed.
Besides, this isn’t his style.

What is that supposed to mean?

Brett drew in a deep breath and released it through his nose.
Sanchez isn’t a coward. If he wants to make a point to someone, he does it in person. He doesn’t hide behind anonymous words
.

Then he clicked out of the IM program, a signal that he’d said all he wanted for now. But once class ended,
he placed his hand on my arm. “Lexi, I know you’re upset because Richard’s your friend, but I swear it’s not him. You have to trust me on this.”

“And what if you’re wrong? I mean, you were wrong about Summer.”

He withdrew his hand and stretched in his chair. “Guys are much more transparent than girls.”

“Meaning?”

“If we have it out for someone, they’d know.” He gave me a goofy grin and laced
his fingers through mine. “Just like if we have a thing for someone, they’d know.”

“Don’t think you can soften me up with a few sweet words.”

He stood and pulled me to my feet until I collided against him. “How about a few kisses?”

“Rule number two,” I reminded him, ignoring the erratic hopping in my stomach. I almost hoped he’d follow through on his threat, despite my warning.

Lucky for me,
he did. His lips barely brushed against mine, but it was enough to fill me with those warm gooey feelings that evaporated all my prior anger.

Unfortunately, it was enough to cause Mr. DePaul to clear his throat and signal for us to take it outside his classroom.

We left hand in hand like a happy couple—still a blatant violation of rule number two. Not that I cared.

But the second we were
out of the room, he pulled me aside. “Lexi, I agree, those notes suck, and I wish I could help you find the person behind them, but believe me when I say that Sanchez has been even more focused on tonight’s game than I have been all week, and they’re not from him.”

“Then why do I always catch him lurking around Richard’s locker when the notes appear?”

“Their lockers are in the same area.”

Okay, he had a point there. But I still couldn’t shake the feeling that Sanchez wasn’t completely innocent. “Then maybe it was someone else from the team?”

Brett shook his head. “Everyone saw what happened to Sanchez, Ren, and Austin after you exposed their bullying in your blog. They know not to mess with you or Richard.”

“Then who could it be?”

“I wish I could tell you, but I don’t have a
clue. But I know if anyone can get to the bottom of it, it’s you.” One of his teammates called his name from down the hall just then, and his attention shifted. He gave my hand one more squeeze before pulling away. “I’ll see you at the game.”

Judging by the number of times he’d mentioned the game, I knew his mind was focused on that. I’d have better luck talking to him about this afterward. The
only thing that bugged me was the fact he might be right. Sanchez seemed to be as preoccupied about tonight’s game as Brett was. But if it wasn’t the usual suspects on the football team, then who was it?

I wandered toward Richard’s locker, toying with the idea of setting up a video camera like the one that had been used in the girls’ locker room a few weeks ago and aiming it at Richard’s locker.
That way, maybe I’d have a chance of catching the culprit.

I arrived at the same time as Richard. My best friend clamped his hands around my upper arms and jumped up and down. “Guess who made the debate team?” he said, his voice squeaking with excitement.

I cheered and gave him a hug. “As if there was any doubt.”

He let go and took a step back, his hand on his stomach. “I wish I had been as
confident as you. I think I might’ve gotten an ulcer from the stress of it all.” His huge grin reappeared. “But I don’t care. I made the team!”

He bounced a few more times before colliding with a person behind him. His over-the-top enthusiasm vanished, and he turned, coming face to face with Ajay. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said in a rush. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” Ajay straightened and adjusted
his bow tie, taking a second to run his finger along his collar as though it was a smidge too tight. “I just wanted to come over and congratulate you.”

The tips of Richard’s ears darkened, and I could’ve sworn he blushed. “Thanks,” he replied, suddenly bashful.

The same tension formed between them where they stared into each other’s eyes and acted like they wanted to say more, but their mouths
refused to obey.

Ajay took another step back and absentmindedly reached up to touch his bow tie again. “Well, um, see you at practice on Monday.”

He spun around on his heel and retreated like a person terrified of getting caught in the wrong place.

“He’s so cute,” Richard murmured. “I really like his tie today, too. Navy pinstripes are so sharp.”

“I thought you were more into football than
fashion,” I teased, not wanting to bring up what was obviously a mutual attraction between my openly gay best friend and the co-captain of the debate team.

“I do read
GQ
from time to time.” He swapped out his books and closed his locker. Luckily, no slips of paper fell out this time. “Want to grab a celebratory fro-yo after school?”

“Of course.” I threw my arm over his shoulders. “My treat.”

But in the meantime, I had plenty of other things to keep my mind occupied, starting with a trip to Morgan’s house.

Chapter Nine

Morgan’s house was as empty as my own usually was when I swung by. I sent her a text letting her know that Richard and I were worried about her, but by the time I met up with Richard after school, I still hadn’t gotten a reply. Not even a
Fuck you
.

I mentioned it to him after a cup of frozen yogurt. “Does Morgan have any classes today?”

Morgan had elected to go into a program
called Running Start, where high school students took classes at a local community college for college credit. This semester, she didn’t have a single class at Eastline.

“Yeah, but she should be finished by noon.”

Which meant she should’ve been home when I came by.

I jabbed at my fro-yo with my spoon. The local shop had discontinued my favorite flavor—mocha—and the red-velvet cake flavor
I’d chosen today didn’t cut it. “I’m almost tempted to try the library.”

“Do you need a student ID to get in?” Richard had no trouble putting away the mounds of food in his bowl. How he managed to stay so skinny while eating so much junk amazed me sometimes.

“No, I don’t think so. I think I’d only need one to check out books, but I still don’t know what library she’d be at. She could be hiding
somewhere on the campus for all I know.”

And I sure as hell didn’t want to go by the Purple Dog, a coffee shop Morgan liked to hang out at, and risk running into Gavin again.

Richard stopped eating long enough to reach across the table and place a hand on my arm. “Don’t worry, Alexis. We’ll find her and set everything straight.”

I nodded, not wanting to think about what she was doing. The worst-case
scenarios always popped into my head first, and I decided it was time to change the subject. “So, what are your plans for the weekend?”

“Game tonight, hot date with Sean tomorrow.”

“Sean?”

“The guy who goes to the Catholic school.” He pulled out his phone and showed me a picture. “That’s him.”

The guy on the screen wasn’t
oh-my-God
hot, but he wasn’t a complete dud, either. His muscular upper
arms and shoulders indicated he’d spent some time in the gym. But overall, he seemed like a guy who was comfortable with himself and his sexuality. “Not bad.”

“Yeah. There’s a part of me that’s scared he’ll take one look at me and go, ‘Nope.’ ”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because look at me?” Richard gestured to his thin frame. “I’m scrawny.”

“But you’re smart and confident and you just made
the debate team. And obviously, there was something about you that captured his attention.”

“Yeah, true.” Richard gave the photo on his phone one more look before closing it. “I mean, there’s slim pickings around here, so all things considered, if I can get him to be my date for Homecoming, I’d consider it a win.”

“And what about Ajay?”

Richard’s mouth thinned as he stirred what was left of
his melted yogurt. “I like him and all, but I have to stand back and let him come to terms with who he is before I make a move. It’s hard enough to come out without people accusing you of being ‘turned’ gay by someone else.”

“And you think someone would think that?”

“I know Kelsey would.” He plopped his spoon down and pushed his bowl away. “That’s the only thing I’m dreading about being on the
debate team—her. I just know she’s going to make a big fuss about me.”