Sweet Like Revenge

36 - Enemy Lines

Sometimes in life, things don't go exactly as planned. But damn would it be nice if they did.

My Jessica lead was a total bust. Or, rather, the whole 'convincing her to team up with me and take Kirsty down' part was.

Yeah. Total bust.

So until I could figure out what else to do with the dirt I had on Irvine's new self-proclaimed queen (or quickly dig up some more), I was stuck playing counsel to her regime.

I excused myself from art class on Monday to use the restroom, though I really just needed to get away from Kirsty's incessant jabs at mine or Kat's expense. It was always a barrage of underhanded insults and innuendos when she was around, and even though some of the information she let slip was valuable to me, most of it was just mean.

There were only ten minutes until the end of the period, and I had half a mind to blow the rest of class off completely. How much painting could I really get done in ten minutes, anyway?

It seemed that someone else had the same bright idea, their heels click-clacking loudly up ahead. I rounded the corner as their footsteps grew closer, only to crash right into Chontelle.

"Hey, Elle," she greeted warmly, holding up a late pass. "Cameron left it off-the-record. He's such a gem."

She flashed me her expensive smile before turning to saunter away, as though what'd happened in the bathroom at the pageant, what I'd seen and heard, hadn't happened at all.

Ever since I'd left her on Sunday night — alone and ashamed — my entire body had rippled with constant waves of guilt. Chontelle had been nothing but nice to me, and I'd let her down when she needed me most. Because I was scared. Because I didn't know what to do. When all I should've done was just be there.

"Hey, Chon?" I said weakly.

She hesitated before meeting my stare. We both knew what was coming. She could pretend all that she liked, but what happened in that bathroom had happened.

"I'm sorry."

I didn't know what else to say. I was so, so sorry. Not just because I'd left her, but because she felt that she had to do what she did in the first place. Because she was battling demons just as hellish as mine.

Chontelle didn't feign confusion, or lie about what I'd heard. Lying wasn't in her nature.

"It's fine," she told me, playing with the strap of her purse. "It was just a relapse. I..." she trailed off, ultimately deciding against saying whatever else was on her mind. Instead, she closed her mouth, nodded to herself, then turned to walk away.

"I know that Kirsty has something on you," I called through the empty corridor. "That's why you're scared of her. I get it. But if it's this, we can—"

"For Christ's sake, Elle!" Chontelle stormed back through the small space between us, leveling up to my face while she shot her words through gritted teeth. "Scream a little louder, why don't you?"

I frowned. "Chon—"

"Stop! Just stop! You think you know everything, but you don't." She shook her head, gesturing wildly with her hands, her rings sending prisms of light scattering across the floor. "You have no fucking idea."

I recoiled from her fiery glare, her sudden mood change sucking the air from my lungs. How easily I'd forgotten how intimidating Chontelle could be, what with her mere week of silence under Kirsty's dictatorship. But within that second of unfiltered anger, I remembered what a ferocious force my friend truly was.

Especially when she had a secret that she was desperate to keep.

Chontelle acknowledged my anxious retreat. Slowly, she took in a cool breath of air, but her hands still shook with rage beneath the sleeves of her tailored black blazer.