Athena

23. A Caged Animal

What shitty sorcery is this?

I die a little inside as I catch a glimpse of perfectly curled silky blonde hair and doll-like blue eyes in the mirror. Just my luck. It's my motherfucking nemesis in the flesh.

A depressing sight of white sinks and beige-colored toilet stalls and matching beige tile serve as our backdrop. My nose is swimming with an overpowering mix of pine-scented cleaner and pear-scented body spray. Honestly, the girls' restroom isn't where I imagined having this showdown.

Quickly, I scan the gap beneath the stalls. I don't see any extra pairs of legs or shoes. Pretty sure the two of us are the only ones in the restroom. I don't know whether to feel relieved or distressed. None of her minions are here, which means they can't gang up on me. But, also, there won't be any witnesses if Chrissa Lawrence decides to take things too far. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, I turn to face Chrissa with all the enthusiasm of a tiny slug crawling toward a deadly pile of salt.

The bitch is dressed to the nines. Dainty gold rings glint along her slender French-manicured fingers. She's wearing a perfectly tailored sky-blue dress shirt, the same shade as her eyes, tucked into a white pleated skirt. A pair of black Mary-Jane-style stilettos completes her posh school girl vibe. Her whole outfit combined probably cost more than a month's worth of weed sales.

I feel grossly underdressed for battle in the black T-shirt and basic blue jeans that I thrifted from Savers.

I sigh, "Fine. Let's talk."

In a heavy cloud of expensive-smelling perfume, Chrissa marches past me to lock the restroom door.

My eyes go wide. "Dude, is that necessary?"

She glares daggers at me. "It's absolutely necessary. This conversation stays between you and me. Got it?"

I mutter, "Got it."

Her gaze continues to burn holes in my direction. I avert my eyes and twirl my hair between my fingers. My pulse is racing for some reason. Being locked in a confined space with Chrissa has triggered something panicky in me. I try not to obsess over what happened last time I was locked in a room with her and Brody, but a sense of morbid déjà vu threatens to swallow me whole. At this precise moment, I'm barely holding my shit together. All I want to do is shove Chrissa out of my way so I can unlock the restroom door and make my escape. Against my better judgment, however, I stay. 

I need to see this conversation through.

Chrissa demands in surly tones, "Why the hell haven't you responded to Brody's texts?"

Her animosity pricks me like needles. I struggle to stand my ground. When I reply, my voice sounds small and scared, "Because I don't want drama."

Her blue eyes narrow. "What do you mean?"

I have to take a deep breath in, out, in, out, before I find my words again, "Look, I-I won't say anything to Luke as long as you and Brody leave Cruz and Alison and me alone."

Disbelief passes through Chrissa's lovely features. She studies me carefully. "Are you saying that you're willing to keep quiet?"

My head jerks in a nod.

A sharp, shrewd gleam enters her eyes. "Good."

I've said my piece. Now, I just want to get the hell away from this bitch. In hopeful tones, I ask, "Are we done here?"

She takes a step towards me. I shrink back instinctively. Chrissa hisses at me like a snake, "You better not be playing me, Athena. If you so much as breathe a word about Brody and me to anyone else, then I'm coming for all three of you—you, Cruz, Alison—and I never miss my mark."