Lost Girl

Chapter Nine: The Burn

Eve hit the ground hard, sliding across the tile floor as whoever had pulled her in here threw her down.

Her binder hit the floor and opened, scattering now-loose pages of homework and class notes everywhere. She tracked them for a split-second with her eyes, saw several of them flip beneath beige metal doors, and realized she was in the girls bathroom. That, as if she didn't already know it, could only mean bad news.

She was on her side, one arm stretched past her head like she was reaching for home plate on a slide, the other somehow folded up underneath her. She turned to free her pinned arm, and in so doing came face to face with the girl – or girls – who had yanked her in here.

Martina Rodriguez and Ali Carter were at the exact opposite end of the high school food chain from Eve. They were at the top of the pyramid, the queens of this government funded mountain in Hell. They were both gorgeous in that vapid way that was preferred by lipstick advertisers the world over. Martina was dark, perfect skin that brought to mind exotic vacations and skinny dipping in the Caribbean. Ali was light, a California beach bunny if ever there was one, dressed like she was going clubbing instead of hitting first period. Both had nearly identical hairstyles, fashioned to look just like that bimbo on that program everyone was talking about these days, the show that should have been named Sluts Who Argue and Then Bang Dudes.

Eve felt her stomach try to escape sideways as fear ran up and down her spine on a hundred feet of ice. Not because of Martina and Ali – well, mostly not because of them – but rather because of who was always with them.

"You screwed up the curve, bitch," said another voice, and with it Eve's stomach stopped trying to escape and felt like it had decided violent implosion would be the best course.

Lilly Edwards wasn't just the third musketeer of this particular adventure, she was the leader of the crew. She was good looking as Martina and Ali were, but unlike her cronies Lilly also had a brain. Not that she was book smart. But she could come up with cruel plans and think of all kinds of vengeful nastiness for any who crossed her.

"You screwed it up," Lilly repeated.

Eve looked over, her vision focusing for some reason on the spilled papers on the floor, as though one of them might hold an answer key with the necessary information to get her out of this situation.

She forced herself to look back at Lilly. "I... don't... I don't understand," she said.

"The test," Lilly snapped. She held up her hand, which had curled itself around a crumpled paper. Eve could make out a bright red "D minus" on the top of the sheet. Now she understood. Understood, but knew that understanding wasn't going to help her stop whatever cruelty Lilly intended to dish out.

"All you had to do was miss a few," said Lilly. "But that's below you, right? So now the rest of us have to suffer." Lilly was wearing a light jacket, a spunky orange number that probably would have made Eve slightly ill to look at if she weren't already feeling completely ill from terror.

Lilly pulled a pack of cigarettes out of one of her jacket pockets, pulled a Bic lighter from another. She lit the cigarette and took a drag.

Eve thought about saying something, then realized that nothing she could say would do any good for her. Whatever was happening now, she was no doubt best off just waiting until it finished and blew over. Sometimes playing possum was the best way to get through something.

Lilly exhaled a cloud of white-gray smoke. The smell of it infused the bathroom instantly and Eve felt her throat grow hot. Cigarette smoke was not high on an asthma sufferer's list of favorite things.