Chapter 7
Alex bounced back in, phone in hand, and flopped down on the sofa, feet up. "So, she's Brianna Caldwell, senior year, class six. She's basically the it-girl of Riverdale High now. Her rep? Not the best. She struts around all high and mighty 'cause she's rolling in dough and got Ethan Drake in her corner. But hey, Nolan, why you all up in her business?"
"Nah, it's nothing," Nolan shrugged, downing the last of his beer and grabbing his jacket. "I'm beat, gonna jet."
Alex didn't push it. He just snagged the bottle and dashed off to belt out some tunes.
-
March brought some rare sunshine vibes.
For the seniors of class six, it meant it was finally time to hit the track for the dreaded running test.
Ivy Sterling gingerly touched her injured foot, her gut twisting with worry.
Off in the distance, Brianna and her posse were all huddled under a tree, throwing shade with some other students. Whatever they were yapping about, Brianna's eyes kept darting to Ivy's leg, and she'd let out these snarky laughs with her crew.
Soon enough, like ten peeps were throwing Ivy these fake smiles that didn't reach their eyes.
Ivy looked away, trying to block it out.
"Good luck running with that bum leg in PE," Brianna's snide voice from earlier echoed in Ivy's head."Try playing hooky and you are dead meat!"
Her fingers twitched, and she balled up her fists, bracing herself.
Predictably, she came in dead last.
Predictably, the sneers came at her like a wave.
"Why didn't you tell anyone you were hurt?" The PE coach looked all kinds of annoyed. "Can a couple of you take her to the nurse's office?"
"We got it, coach."
Brianna swooped in like she was Ivy's bestie or something.
Ivy tensed up, her face already ghostly from the pain in her leg turned a shade paler.
"If you wanna dip and go chill, then go," the coach said, not even trying to hide his indifference, "just make sure you get back here fast."
"Oh, we'll hurry back. We're just dying to spend more time with you, coach," Brianna cooed, all fake sweetness.
The coach just shooed them away, "Get going. Oh, and..." He trailed off, forgetting Ivy's name, but then shrugged it off, "When that leg's better, make sure you come back for a do-over. Gotta log your time." Ivy just nodded.
There was this little grove on the south end of the track, with a busted-up fake fountain and a few benches.
At Riverdale High, it was VIP-only - where the cool kids hung out.
This year, it was Brianna Caldwell's turf.
And that's where Ivy's personal horror show kicked off.
First time Ivy got dragged into that grove, it was by a personal invite from Queen B herself.
Brianna was all lounged out on the bench, legs crossed, and with this sly grin she's like, "Hey girl, did Finn Ramsey from the junior class hit you up with a love confession?" Ivy was fresh meat, just transferred in from Brookville Heights Academy where everyone was tight, and the vibe was all about having each other's backs. Ivy's mom had always been about that kindness life, and Ivy was vibing on the same frequency. She never expected drama for spilling the tea to Brianna.
So yeah, she nodded.
Brianna hit her with, "Damn, girl, you snagged a confession from a hottie right out the gate. You into him?"
Ivy was clueless why Brianna was prying and just shook her head, "Nah, I didn't say yes."
"Why tho? He's a catch, and my girl's been on that chase for ages and he's been playing hard to get."
Ivy peeped her watch, realizing lunch was almost a wrap, and was like, "Senior year's on the horizon, gotta keep my head in the books, you know?"
Brianna was all, "Oh look at you, Miss Goody Two-Shoes. Aight, bounce back to class."
The next day was a hot mess. Ivy's backpack was drenched in milk with a nasty note slapped on it that read "Sperm Sales Spot." That's when it hit her these kids played dirty.
Ivy grabbed her ruined gear and made a beeline for her homeroom teacher, the same one who had been all warm and fuzzy, hooking her up with textbooks and a uniform. She had to have her back, right?
And yeah, the teacher stepped up. She read Brianna and her crew the riot act, made them say sorry. But deep down, Ivy knew that the kind of peeps who'd slap a "Sperm Sales Spot" note on her stuff weren't just about pranks and LOLs. She took their fake apology and made a mental note to steer clear.
But here's the thing...
It wasn't just about being naive; Ivy was clueless to the core.
You read all the time about how the world's a shady place, where it's every man for himself, but nobody tells you that even a picture-perfect schoolyard can be a snake pit.
Mom always said to keep it real and kind, but she never gave the playbook on what to do when your realness and kindness get slapped down with a side of evil.
"Move it! Why you dragging your feet?"
There Ivy was, in the grove, trying to suck in some courage from the fresh air, looking up at the gloomy sky.
She dragged her feet, putting on this so-called "lame sensual dance" for the entertainment of those jerks.
"I can't even this is too much!"
"Yeah, keep it up!"
"Where'd you find this comedy gold?"
"What's the sitch here?"
That low-key voice cut through the noise.
Ivy spun around, and everything just stopped.
