Tightrope

Ravish Me

It was difficult to stalk after Hartley on crutches.

The stupid cast was coming off next week, and I couldn't wait to take advantage of that to march powerfully after Hartley like a girl on a mission. Sadly, in my current state, I did not exude the same energy as Gal Gadot crossing No Man's Land in Wonder Woman. People were still moving out of my way, but that was motivated by pity rather than fear.

"Hey, Lena, how you doing?" called Tommy DeRiva from across the hall, unsticking himself from his locker to wave. He was surrounded by his usual group of football dudebros; Tommy played in the same team as Jace. Tommy DeRiva had been my first kiss, way back when. Nice guy.

I waved back as best I could while I crutches. "Yeah, good thank you. How are you?"

"As good as you can be."

"Sorry, Tommy," I said. "I'm in a bit of a rush, just looking for my good mate Hartley."

Tommy frowned. "Did a new Hartley transfer here? I hadn't heard anything. Does Jace have a cousin or something?"

"Nope! Just looking for Hartley 1.0. Did you see which way he went?"

Confusion warred with amusement on Tommy's face as he hitched a thumb towards the left corridor. The rest of the pack seemed equally as confused, and struck up a whispered conversation that I knew would fly around the school in the next few hours. The new episode of the Jace and Lena show, the most puzzling instalment yet.

"Thanks, Tommy. We'll talk later."

I called my goodbye to Tommy, resolving to hang out with him and his backup dancers in the near future. Our group was relatively inclusive, and we hardly only talked to one another, but I hadn't attended a party—my ill-fated attempt to crash Marc McGovern's my closest foray—in months. I hadn't seen my extended homies in far too long.

Tommy waved me off, turning back to his friends with a grin.

I resolved to organise a party ASAP.

Weekly To-Do List:

1. Organise party

2. Find and kill Jace Hartley

3. Get rid of secret list to destroy evidence

Packed schedule.

When I turned into the left corridor, I saw Jace leaning against the lockers chatting to Chance, laughing and doing those weird male camaraderie handshakes that seemed to be ingrained in every guy once they hit 13. It was like they all collectively took and seminar and decided that saying hello was lame and feminine, and complex man-shakes were the way to go. Chance always looked exceedingly uncomfortable when confronted with the dudebro handshake. He had told me it was a gay guy thing.

I hopped over to the pair of them, grateful that McKenna had offered to dump my books in my locker for me. I wanted to start a Daria and McKenna fan club. The only thing stopping me, to be perfectly honest, was the knowledge that Jace would immediately sign up as a member.

Chance looked up from his conversation with Jace and immediately clocked my strange expression, a metamorphic blend of anger and pleasantness. "Lena. Hi." said Chance, nudging Jace with his elbow and widened eyes. "Uh, we were just talking about, um, fantasy sports and, um, RuPaul's drag race."

"A fun blend of both of your interests," I said drily.

Jace looked amused. "Subtle, Krisler. No, Lena, we were not talking about you."

"Of course not, I did hear that you had many thoughts to offer on RuPaul and his drag race. And Chance is just all over the fantasy sports."

Chance looked down guiltily. He was an awful liar. Thankfully, Jace had always been a patient guy. He wouldn't hold it against Chance.