Ladies' Choice (re-uploading SOON)

CHAPTER SIX

Standing at my locker, I grabbed a claw clip and pulled my hair back, using two extra clips to hold all the thin strand back. This was more battle ready. Not sure what the challenge might bring. We might fight each other battle royale style: two opponents enters and only one person leaves. I've suited up with my sneakers for a race, leggings for acrobatics, and plenty of water to stay hydrated.

Back when I was at track and I complained about getting tired, my muscles pounding, or the sun, Jess would ask how much water I drank that day. Now I drank it like someone was going to take it away.

Skipper snorted. "All you're missing is war paint."

"Bold of you to assume I wasn't planning on it."

Elena shook her head. "You realize the challenge is words of affirmation? Not the first day of the Hunger Games."

"I know," I said and snapped my locker shut. "I've got this. Don't worry."

"That's like asking me to divulge my AO3 history. Impossible."

"Well, that's dramatic. It's gonna be fine," I insisted and started shepherding us towards the school theater, where we promised to meet up with Allison. Easily, my choice of judge would be Skipper. She'd probably be on my side and make a good argument about why I should win (and if not a good argument, at least an entertaining one. That seemed like the way to go with Allison, who was probably just doing this out of boredom).

Elena elbowed Skipper, and she jumped, like a car jumpstarting in the dead of night and scaring all the neighborhood dogs. Skipper let the words gargle in her throat before she spat them out, "Speaking of being fine! Are you...?" She squinted, cringing at her own words.

"Yeah, I'm good." My brow scrunched, but I didn't stop going. I'd rather be dead than allow Daniella to get there first. The image of Daniella walking into the theater with nobody on the judging panel from her made me salivate. I loved being right, maybe as much as I enjoyed Daniella being wrong. Zoey Marie Summers wasn't empty. Look at me. I was layered with so many things: good grades, soccer, my parents, my friends, and the way my sock kept slipping down inside my shoe.

With a curse, I hiked my foot up, struggling to pull my sock up as Skipper said. "I'm just asking because I don't know. You seem stressed lately. Like more stressed."

"I eat stress for breakfast."

"But have you ever tried just regular breakfast? Like an ego waffle? Pretty good."

"How's your sleep pattern?" Elena asked.

"Patterned like a quilt."

Elena's sigh could be heard from around the world.

"I'm kidding! I'm good. If I wasn't good, I would tell you," I told them, but while Skipper nodded, Elena didn't look even a little convinced. I just smiled on and kept moving. Maybe we'd even walk far enough away from the conversation I didn't want to have today or ever.

Just as predicted, we walked into the theater and Allison was the only one there. Our school theater was like any other: towering ceilings, itchy wool chairs on a slope that faced a scuffed-up stage, and a huge curtain that was currently drawn back. The school had just performed Les Misérables, so there was a huge pile of mismatched furniture to make the barricade at the back of the stage.

Allison sat in the middle of the row right at the front. Best seat in the house to watch me win.

"Hey Allison!" I called out, a pep to my step. Allison stood, and she was an extra foot tall in boots. Today's shirt was a sweatshirt that looked hand bejeweled to say, "Baby Girl" in bubbly cursive letters. This eye assault might be the worse one this school year.