Resisting the Bad Boy

[4] "Who's Sweatshirt?"

I GASP, shooting into a standing position and thankfully not letting the drink get onto my jeans or shoes. My chair flies back with a loud clatter. The whole cafeteria gasps along with me and lots "ooh". I hold the shirt away from my body, watching the liquid drip to the floor from my shirt and hands. I watch in shock, my face hearing up.

"What the hell, Leila!" Grant says, grabbing the minimal napkins we have.

He starts trying to dry my off, but I bat him away, not wanting to cause a scene although I think it's probably too late for that as everyone is silent and all eyes are directed at me. 

"There! All better!" she says and laughs along with her friends.

My face heats in a flush and my eyes crinkle as tears threaten to escape. I knew Leila was cruel, but this is awful--something more awful then I thought she'd pull. Soon enough, most of the cafeteria erupts in laughter, although some hold back, probably finding Leila's joke to be more cruel than funny. Although, no one will do or say anything. Jee, the decency here is uncanny I think sarcastically. I feel tears prickle at the corner of my eyes and I frantically blink them away. I take a step forward, desperate to escape, but Leila and her friends block my path.

"Move!" Kendra yells at Leila and her friends.

They part, startled by her outburst. I brush past all of them, making a beeline towards the girls locker rooms to clean up. If there's one thought that breaks through my embarrassment and panic, it's that I need to get out of there as soon as possible. My footsteps are the only things heard as the cafeteria goes silent. Embarrassment makes my cheeks burn as I'm the center of attention and I wish I could be invisible again. I shouldn't have worn this. I shouldn't have ridden here with Archer. I shouldn't have done anything but blend in and I couldn't even do that after it's been 17 years of being a professional at it. Tears blur my vision and I desperately try to blink them away, but a couple still make it down my cheeks. I burst into the girls locker rooms and lean on the counter.

"Why'd I have to be adopted by them? Why'd Archer Cross have to ruin my first day of senior year? Why'd I get skinny? What's Leila's vendetta against me?" I look in the mirror, asking myself these questions in frustration, angry tears making their way down my face.

I stare at myself in the mirror, cleaning up my slightly smudged mascara and taking a couple deep breaths to regain myself. I lift my shirt up and take it off, putting it under warm water to wash some of the red off.

But it doesn't even fade.

I scrub, refusing to believe I'll have to go around with a stained shirt all day when it's not even half over. My scrubbing movements become frantic, getting faster and faster. My breathing picks up as realization dawns on me that I might very well have to wear this hate-badge all day. Why won't this come out?

"Uhh, I don't think it's happening, Ray," I hear a familiar voice behind me.

I let out a yelp, jumping and holding my shirt in front of me to hide myself. My cheeks turn a deep scarlet and my breathing is unsteady.

"Grant! What-what are you doing in here! It's the girls locker rooms!" I whisper-yell.

"I came to bring you my sweatshirt. We should hurry though before people come in," he says, keeping his eyes on my face, not straying once.

When my embarrassment fades, I'll have to remember to thank him for this. Not for the sweatshirt, but for everything that he's done for me in the recent events. I look anywhere but at him. My eyes are trained on my shoes. I inch over to him, carefully holding my stained shirt in front of me. When I get over to him, I grab his sweatshirt and hastily throw it on.