Opposite Force

Chapter Nineteen

Mikaela Martin | Present

I arrive at school twenty minutes before the first bell. Part of me wants Peyton to be here, leaning against my locker with a reasonable explanation for Friday night, not that I can think of one. At the same time, I'm too tired and sad to handle a confrontation right now.

I'm disappointed and relieved to walk into an empty hallway. Mostly disappointed. I guess he doesn't care enough to get here early. I mean, he didn't care enough to not hook up with his ex-girlfriend, so this really shouldn't come as a surprise.

I cram notebooks and textbooks into my tote and, with a sad glance around the still-empty hall, close my locker, preparing myself for a solo journey to the language wing. I love starting the day with one of Peyton's toothy grins and a recap of football practice, but I should probably get used to walking by myself.

Stop thinking about it, Mikaela. No crying.

I trek downstairs only to find that, of course, Mr. Quentin isn't even in yet. Great. I'm here before the teachers. This is why Peyton doesn't want to be with me. Tears flood my eyes, and I hurry to the safety that is the bathroom.

I'm not the only one in here. Someone is banging around in the one stall that isn't out-of-order. The universe really, truly does hate me. To think, I want to dedicate my life to studying it.

I dry my eyes with paper towels, glad I refuse to take Annalise's advice and wear eye makeup to school. Today is bad enough without looking like a raccoon. I'm blowing my nose when she walks in.

Gigi Flynn.

I want to hate her. I really do, but I can't. She's never been mean to me. Based on the way she treated Peyton when they dated, I think she has some emotional issues of her own, and we mentally ill folks really should band together.

On top of all of that, I understand. Peyton is perfect. Why wouldn't she seize the opportunity to get back with him, even just for a night?

Her green eyes—of course they match Peyton's, I realize—flash when they catch me in the mirror. Not in an angry or devious way. No. I could handle that kind of flash better than this one. This one is pity. Surprise and pity. She freezes, biting her lip, and through the mirror, I watch her lips part. She's about to say something to me. Gigi Flynn is going to talk to me, and I'm going to cry if I hear it.

I shove the paper towel into my tote because there's no time for trashcans and rush out the door into the now-bustling hallway. I keep my eyes locked ahead of me, determined to make it to English unscathed.

"Mikaela!"

The deep, rumbling voice sends a chill up my spine and a dagger through my chest. By the time I whip around, Peyton is mere yards away.

I can't do this. Not right now. Not when I have a whole school day to go. I summon my courage, pulling it out of some reserve I never knew I had, and snap, "She's in the bathroom."

He furrows his brows, confused. "Who?"

I force my eyes to roll. "Your girl—" I stop myself because I don't know if they're back together. Maybe they only hooked up because he got sick of the good girl act, like Rachel said he would. I just shake my head, spin on my heel, and book it to English class, leaving Peyton to feign confusion on his own.