My Dirty Little Secret

Chapter Thirty Two

A/N: Damn, this chapter's long! All I'll say is things get interesting when Brooke gets drunk. Consider that a preview. Enjoy Chapter Thirty Two! (;

- Railene

Chelsea's POV

Physics, English, History, Math, Study...I need two binders and a notebook, plus my History book...And I lost my pen last period, so that means I'll --

That's about where I was in my thoughts when my door of my horribly inconvenient bottom locker came flying towards my head, kicked in maliciously by the person on the other side. I snapped my head to look at my poor locker's assailant, still kneeling as I'd been trying to gather my stuff. Facing back at me, all I saw was two brown leather boots, planted firmly on the linoleum. I looked up slowly to see their owner. Who else could it have been, though, really?

I stood up to face her. "Thanks for the help, Tiffany, but I wasn't done in there," I said.

"Shut up," she said, glaring daggers into my head.

"Excuse me?"

"Excuse you for what, sleeping your way to the top? You're pathetic, Chelsea."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I demanded, getting defensive.

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. Clearly you ran out of female students to bang, so you moved onto teachers. Really cute."

I could have begun a screaming match there and then, but if I did, I knew it was all over. Being prudent, I lowered my voice. In a harsh whisper, I asked, "Tiffany, are you out of your fucking mind? What the hell are you suggesting?"

"I know you're sleeping with Miss Chandler, Chelsea. Don't bother."

"Sleeping with her? Where the hell did you get that idea?" Maybe from reality, I answered internally, but swallowed the thought.

"How else would you get to where you are? You're captain, you're a top girl, you're the focus of every stunt, every routine, and you're the example for everything we ever do. I know how you got her wrapped around your finger. It's pretty obvious to everyone."

"Tiffany, I'm pretty sure the only one this is 'obvious' to is you, because it's clearly some ridiculous fantasy that you made up."

"Right," she said. "I'm making it all up. How else could you get where you are?"

"Maybe because I devoted my entire life to cheering, Tiffany? This has been all I've worked for since the sixth grade, and I'm good at it. I'm sorry if that's so hard for you to believe."

"I'll tell you what's not hard for me to believe," she said. 

"You know what? I feel bad for you. If you're so jealous of me that you would actually create an idea this absurd and bring yourself to fully believe it? That's just sad."

"Jealous?" she practically screamed, her high-pitched voice piercing through my head.

"Yes," I said, condescendingly. "Jealous. That's all you are. And if you don't bother trying to improve instead of inventing dumb rumors about your teammates, rumors that could get your coach in serious legal trouble? That's all you'll ever be. What you're doing right now could ruin the entire team, and in the end, it only gets you further from what you really want. So if you really want to get better, I suggest you channel your energy somewhere else. Like your cheering."

I didn't bother to wait for her response, or to reopen my locker and get the stuff I needed. I was already late. And I'd said what I needed to say.