Sweet Like Revenge

18 - Pretty Little Whispers

Call me naïve, but I truly hadn't realized how intense The Games would be.

Sure, we had round robins at my previous school. But they were fun. We were rewarded with oranges at halftime and chocolates at the end of the match—win, lose or draw. The Interschool Games, on the other hand, was pure carnage.

By the end of our fourth match, our team had one girl on the bench with a bloody nose and another on the sidelines throwing up into a bucket. We broke for lunch right before the semi-finals, which most of my team used as an opportunity to collapse by the sidelines, hydrate, and catch their breath.

Kirsty-Lee Callaway wasn't so lucky.

While the rest of us were sprawled across the bleachers, Neabar signaled the usually confident pageant girl to join her in the coach's box. Kirsty's face turned a humorous shade of crimson as she broke away from the rest of us and walked over to Coach timidly, visibly preparing herself for a scolding. Because when Coach wanted to talk to us one-on-one, it was usually for a scolding.

"Are you unwell?" Neabar asked.

Kirsty shook her head. "No, coach."

"Are you pregnant?'

Kirsty shook her head again.

"Have you, I don't know, lost control of your limbs?"

Kirsty's eyes sunk to the floor as she very quickly became aware of the fact that Coach was mocking her, and that the rest of us were privy to her doing so.

"No, coach," she finally replied.

"Then pick up the pace. You're playing as if you've never run a day in your life. Have you ever run a day in your life? Because I can't seem to recall—"

"Yes, coach," Kirsty interrupted haughtily, then slammed her mouth together in an act of instant regret.

But Neabar refrained from scolding her further. Instead, she pressed her clipboard firmly into Kirsty's chest, staring her down as though she were an insect that could simply be swatted away. "Get it together, Callaway. Plenty of girls would kill for your spot on this team. Let Andrews' punishment be a reminder for you. For all of you. Everyone's replaceable."

I retired to the girls' bathroom before the semi-finals to touch up my makeup, Neabar's words echoing in my ears. Of course, a full face of foundation and concealer was hardly appropriate given the circumstances, but I couldn't risk Ana slipping out from underneath Elle's perfect facade.

"Where did you get it?" I heard a sly voice enquire from just outside the door. I'd recognize that voice anywhere—sickly sweet, like maple syrup gushing down a stack of blueberry pancakes.

Sienna Hawthorne.

It didn't occur to me to hide until right before Sienna and whoever she was with had almost entered the bathroom. After all, Elle had no reason to hide from Sienna. As far as Sienna knew, Elle wanted to be friends with her. She was no threat.

But then I realized who Sienna was talking to, and who they were talking about.

"From Kat. Where else?" Kirsty responded with a scoff saturated in sarcasm.

Get what? I wondered. I hurriedly threw my compact into my pocket, then darted into the furthest cubicle. While I was certainly slow and steady on the revenge front, I was quickly mastering the art of hide-and-seek.

"Gosh, she just carries them around with her?" Sienna asked as the door to the bathroom opened, her footsteps echoing through the long, narrow space as she neared the basin.