**Officially published as Clique Bait with HarperTeen!**
Payment is usually a part of a basic transaction. You give and then you take. But, at Arlington Preparatory, people take at their leisure. They take their entertainment in the form of humiliat...
False. You don't value your soul. You gave it to me in freshman year in exchange for a chocolate glazed donut.
If I could, I'd be there. Even if it meant seeing level one again. I could totally do it.
Could you imagine their faces if I turned up at the cafeteria on Monday? God, their expressions would be priceless.
Love,
Monica
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William and I locked eyes for a moment, as if daring each other to react. Then, he sighed and answered the phone.
"What?"
There was silence as she responded on the other end of the line. William ran a hand through his hair and started pacing. When he finally spoke, his tone was rushed.
"No, I haven't answered them. And there's a reason for that. I don't want to hear from you, you know how I feel."
More silence, and more bundling of anticipation in my stomach as I desperately tried to overhear what she could be saying. The volume wasn't loud enough for me to hear anything but muffled speaking.
"Yes, Lola, she is here actually. But it still doesn't make a difference, you know that."
I swiveled in the chair so my eyes could follow him as he paced to the window, not bothering to hide the fact that I was completely eavesdropping in on his conversation.
"I'm not pretending," William said through gritted teeth. "Yes, she's right here... I don't need to go anywhere private, D-Lola. I've got nothing to hide from her."
Nothing to hide from me. He looked over to where I was watching him from my seat at the desk, a look I couldn't quite decipher in his eyes.
"No, I didn't tell her, you did. But, you know I probably would have told her anyway. It's like suddenly, now that you see me with someone new, you want to mess with me again, and it's not happening," he said. "I'm going, and I want you to stop calling. Don't you have a boyfriend for that?"
Then, he pulled the phone from his ear and hung up.
"Sorry."
"Didn't know you two still talked," I said absent-mindedly.
"We don't," he stated. Then he flopped back onto his bed. The T-shirt he was wearing rode up a little as he stretched his arms out beneath his head, revealing a sliver of bronzed, toned skin, with a hint of dark hair scattered over it. I averted my eyes. "She keeps calling me. It's almost obsessive."
I kept my lips sealed shut. But it didn't take long for the words to trickle out, my moral self struggling to keep quiet. He needed to know if he didn't already. "I don't think she's happy with Francis."
