Boy Swap (16 page)

Carter says nothing to me but turns and storms toward the gym door. He slams open the wooden door against the concrete wall so loud that everyone inside stops dead.

Uh oh. Maybe I should have eased into telling him all of this?

Chapter 25: The Duel

I cautiously follow Carter into the gym. I know he’s about to freak out on Cassie and I can’t take my eyes away. Neither can anyone else. All of the band, flags, and dance squad members are staring at Carter, who is glaring at Cassie and marching toward her.

“Cassie!” he bellows.

Cassie looks startled and even backs up a few steps. But where can she go? He’ll be in front of her face in two seconds.

“Cassie!” he screams again.

The whole gym is dead-freaking-silent.

Cassie looks at me, back at Carter, and then over to Chris. Which was kinda stupid on her part. I mean, why not just draw Carter a map while you’re at it of everyone involved in this drama?

Chris looks like he’s seconds away from crapping his pants. Carter is much bigger than him and far, far stronger. He is definitely going to get a pummeling.

“Y-yes?” Cassie squeaks out as Carter gets right in her face. She’s visibly shaking now.

He holds the bloomers up and swings them around on his finger. “Lose something, did you?”

She reaches out for the bloomers. “Oh. Th-thank you, Carter.”

But he snatches them away. “Now how would you have lost these, Cassie? Could it be when you were screwing the little drummer boy over there?” He jerks his head in Chris’s direction.

A laugh escapes me and I quickly cover my mouth. This isn’t a funny situation. Not at all. But the little drummer boy thing was funny and I’ve had more time to get used to the whole Chris/Cassie thing than Carter has. I look at Chris again and he is slowly backing away, trying to find a side exit out of the gym.

“I-I-I don’t know what you mean, B-Baby,” Cassie says, and reaches for his arm.

He slaps her hand off of him. “You don’t know what I mean? You don’t know what I mean?” he says louder the second time.

“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” Cassie asks softly, well aware that people are paying close attention.

“No. How about we talk about this right now,” Carter replies. “How about we tell everyone here,” Carter lifts his arms up in the direction of all the students gathered in the gym, listening, “about your extracurricular activities. How you’re the president and founder of a club called Boy Swap and how you lure girls into joining so you can date their boyfriends.”

Cassie’s face turns as white as her bleached teeth. And then she glares at me.

I shrug. This is pretty much out of my hands at this point. Although, I have to admit, I’m touched that Carter believed me over Cassie. He must have already had a feeling that something was wrong in their relationship. The guilty look Cassie is giving him right now is only confirming it all.

There are gasps throughout the gym as everyone takes in what Carter just said. Even Chris, who is inches away from the exit to the soccer fields, looks at Cassie with his jaw dropped open. Idiot.

“I-I-I,” Cassie stammers.

“You nothing,” Carter says. “As in, you are here on out NOTHING to me. Don’t talk to me, don’t come near me. You and I are done.” He flings the bloomers at Cassie’s chest and takes a few steps toward the gym door. He turns around one last time. “I can’t believe I wasted two years of my life on you.”

Carter leaves and no one else makes a move. I think everybody is too much in shock over what just happened. I glance at Lizzie, who came into the gym right at the beginning of the fight, and I can see her mentally putting together everything that has been going on the last few weeks.

And then I hear it. This loud, howling, wounded bear-like noise coming from the other side of the gym. It’s Cassie making the noise. And she’s running toward me. Fast. Ah crap.

*      *      *

All I have to say is thank God for twenty minutes a day on the elliptical because next thing I know, I’m hauling my butt up the gym’s bleachers at warp speed. Cassie is hot on my trail. She should have been on track instead of dance squad because girl can move! Of course, one would need to wear more clothing to participate on the track team and she would have never gone for that.

I reach the top of the bleachers and Cassie is only about ten rows behind me. I have to keep moving. I run along the top row to the other side of the gym and barrel down the bleacher steps. The band and flag kids are cheering for me, “Brooke! Brooke! Brooke!” I’m really touched! I jump from the last step onto the floor and take a brief bow. I glance over my shoulder and Cassie is almost on me so I dash to the other side of the gym, take a deep breath, and race up the other set of bleacher steps.

I’m getting tired from our wacky cardio workout and really hoping Cassie is going to trip or something soon. I don’t know how many more times up and down the bleachers I have in me. Cassie has gone completely mad though. On her way up the bleachers this time, she grabs one of the practice flags and charges after me, swinging it wildly. This chick is really going to try and hit me with a seven-foot pole! Hello? This is like, suspension worthy stuff here. Maybe even jail time. Dude, where’s the band director when you need him? I race across the top of the bleachers and down them again, with Cassie still close behind. I have no idea what to do. No doubt she can—and will—really hurt me if I stop running. I feel like I’m in one of those crazy reality show endurance tests where I have to keep pushing and pushing no matter how much I want to quit.

The cheering has stopped and everyone is just watching now, completely in shock. And probably scared for my life, like I am. I jump onto the gym floor and run the lap for the inside mile when one of the flag members, Melanie, yells “Brooke! Here!” and tosses me her flag pole, red practice flag still attached. I catch it and turn to face Cassie, my heart beating out of my chest and sweat dripping off my forehead.

I glance at the gym doors. Okay seriously, where is our adult supervision? This would be a really snazzy time for Mr. Shank or any other authority figure to dash in and save me from this psychopath.

I brace my feet on the ground and hold the flag pole over my right shoulder, like I’m about to hit a home-run. I try to pull together every mental visual of a sword fight that I’ve ever seen in a movie but I’m drawing a blank. I’m much more of a romantic comedy chick than action adventure.

Cassie races toward me, her pole tucked under her right arm joust style and something occurs to me. Oh yeah, this is like that time Mom and Dad took me to dinner at Medieval Times. The two dudes on horses put their swords under the arms and race toward each other, trying to knock the other one off his horse. Only we aren’t on horses, but there isn’t time to think about that. I tuck my flag pole under my arm and try to make myself run toward Cassie. But she looks so flippin’ crazy that I do a small side-step toward her instead.

Cassie reaches me and actually plunges her pole right at me! What a freak! I lean back at the last second, like I’m doing the limbo at the scariest luau on Earth, as she jabs her flagpole over my head. I can hear the onlookers gasp in the background. Okay, this is one scary chick.

I quickly straighten up to face Cassie and she takes a swing at me. On instinct, I tighten my grip around the base of the flag pole and slam it into hers. She gives me a crazy, wild-eyed look—part I’m going to kill you, and part how dare you mess with the great Cassie Deegan?

Again, she swings at me with her pole and again, I slam mine into hers as hard as I can. The collision sends shockwaves up my arms. Shoot, I was really hoping I would be strong enough to knock the pole out of her hands. She is deceptively strong for a girl who looks so tiny and malnourished.

Our flag poles clang together again as we continue to sword fight. If I wasn’t so scared that she would break my arm, it might have been kind of fun. This goes on for about twenty seconds, with all of the students in the gym whooping and hollering for me. I glance at the gym door again, praying for an interception by absolutely anyone—I’d take a janitor or a lost mother dropping off a lunch bag at this point—and Cassie knocks my flag out of my hand. Crap! I fall back onto the gym floor and she puts her flag pole up to my chest. I know my minutes are numbered.

I close my eyes in preparation for my throttling and then I hear it. A group scream—“AHHHHHHH!!!”

Cassie hears it too because when I open one eye to peek, I see her glance over her shoulder and mumble, “What the—?”

My girls! The entire flute section, including Rayne, jump on Cassie’s back, knocking her to the ground.

“Hey! Stop! What the hell are you idiots doing?” Cassie screams. Her face is smooshed into the gym floor. “Get off me! Let go!”

Now there are two girls sitting on each of her legs and a girl holding down each arm. The rest of the band is going wild, laughing and cheering. Lizzie runs over, tuba case in tow. She lays it on Cassie’s back and then sits on it.

“She’s not going anywhere,” Lizzie yells. “Someone go get Principal Rodriguez.”

“Aaaaghh,” a muffled moan comes from Cassie. “Get off me, you heifer!”

“Sorry, Cassie,” Lizzie says. “Guess I shouldn’t have had all that ice cream this weekend.” Lizzie bounces hard on the case.

Cassie groans.

I kneel beside her, to make sure she’s still breathing okay. We don’t need to get in trouble for hurting her. Which is extremely nice of us considering that she just tried to kill me.

“You’re so done, Brooke,” she whimpers at me. “Your life is so over. You’re such a freaking moron!”

“Yeah, well you’re the one trapped under a tuba case right now,” I say. Which gets a bunch of giggles out of the bystanders.

“I don’t know why I ever let you in the club,” she continues. “Chris wasn’t even worth it. He’s as pathetic as you!”

“You’re probably right about Chris,” I say. “But you’re the pathetic one. You obviously have monster self-esteem issues.”

“Whatever, Brooke. Just you wait. You’re going to be the bottom feeder of the entire school.”

I shrug.

And then it happens. Her own people turn on her. Suddenly we are surrounded by the dance squad, who surprisingly, has stood back this entire time and just watched everything that went down without ever trying to intercept. One of the senior dance squad members, Amber, gets right in Cassie’s face.

“YOU are the bottom feeder, Cassie! You think you run everything here at school, but you don’t. We’re sick of you, we’re sick of your stupid club, and we’re sick of your pathetic, twisted need to have everyone’s boyfriends.” Amber reaches up her sweatshirt sleeve and pulls out a pale pink scarf. She balls it up and throws it at Cassie’s face. “I hope you choke on it!” She flips her long mahogany hair and walks away.

Cassie looks at Amber’s retreating back with a stunned expression, but quickly recovers. “Well, you’re a loser too Amber! And Anthony’s a sucky kisser!”

“Am I a loser too, Cass?” Britney asks, stepping up and dropping her scarf in front of Cassie’s face.

“Us too?” Sara asks, as her, Angela, and a tall redhead I don’t know drop their scarves in front of Cassie’s face.

“Y-yes. You all are,” Cassie says in a shaky voice, like she might cry any minute. The expression on her face suddenly turns to confusion and she whispers, “Delaney?”

I fling my head around and see Delaney standing there.

“Yeah, me too,” Delaney says, tossing her scarf on the ground. “You’re an awful, awful person, Cassie. Find yourself a new lackey.” She turns on her heel and marches straight out of the gym.

I stare at her retreating back, in shock.

A couple more girls slip their scarves off and drop them on the floor in front of Cassie. And I know it’s my turn. I untie my scarf from my hair.

“Brooke, you’re—” she starts.

I kneel down and shove my scarf into her mouth. “I think we’ve heard enough from you today,” I say and stand back up.

A cheer goes through the gym again and people clap.

I walk toward the gym doors, rubbing my right shoulder. I think I pulled a muscle during the pole fight. I practically bump into Mr. Shank on the way out. Nice of him to finally show up.

“What’s going on in here?” he shouts.

“Lizzie can explain,” I say and keep on walking out of the gym.

*      *      *

I head for the nurse’s office, intent on hunting down a pain reliever and an ice pack, when I see Delaney and two of the dance squad girls hovering near the lockers. I walk straight toward them.

“See you guys later,” Delaney says to the two when I arrive and for the first time in forever, looks me straight in the face.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi.”

“Look,” I begin, “I just wanted to say thanks.”

“No need to thank me,” Delaney insists. “I should have done that a long time ago.”

“Yeah, but I know it was hard for you,” I say.

She shrugs.

We’re both quiet, thinking of what to say. Finally I speak. “I’ve got to ask, why now? Why stand up for me now when you’ve ignored me for so many years?”

She takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t just standing up for you. I was standing up for me. And I didn’t ignore you.” Delaney briefly considers this and then adds, “Okay, I did. But I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to be friends with those kids and they didn’t want me to be friends with you.”

“That’s lame,” I say.

“Not everyone is as strong as you, Brooke,” she says.

I give her a confused look. Me? Strong? What the heck is she talking about?

“You don’t need to belong,” she continues. “You’re a strong person all on your own. Some people just want to fit in, like me. But you, you’re brave.”

“I am?” I ask.

She smiles. “Uh, yeah. Like how you marched out of that party in 6th grade. No one else dared to do that. And how you trot around in that ridiculous band getup, head held high like its next spring’s Dolce and Gabbana when it’s really 1977 sweaty polyester band garb. You’re happy being you. You don’t care what people think. And I'm totally jealous. I wish I didn’t care so much.”