Dirty Roulette, page 10
“Not my fault his sister and her trashy friend wanted to play,” Brody laughs through his nose. “You should be thanking me. You get a tight-ass virgin.”
“If he doesn’t want her, I’ll take her.” Farva pants like a dog but doubles over when Brody knocks an elbow into his stomach.
Jared brushes the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead. “Wait, what happened?” He turns to me with the question.
“Oh, he didn’t tell you? The Crab here barged in and the bottle landed on him. He wants to sleep with Trash.” The wry smile creeping on Brody’s face sparks electricity to fire through my spine and into my fists.
Jared’s mouth gapes open as he says her name. “Payton?”
“Why are you doing this to her? She’s a virgin. She should be able to stay that way if she wants!” I lash out.
“Don’t tell me you have feelings for her?” Brody raises his brow.
Jared and Nick must have a sixth sense because the second I step forward, they grasp my shoulders on cue. All it takes is one fist fight and the Conduct Board will take his side. Board members will stretch their legs across that maple desk, lace fingers behind their heads, and soak up whatever white lie Brody scrounges up to cover his ass.
“You really want to fight me?” Brody runs a hand through his slick hair. “Go ahead, take your best shot.” He holds out his arms and takes a few steps back with his amused expression. With Coach on the other side of the field, I refrain myself. “Maybe this one won’t get bored with you.” The group of linemen are like brainless sheep as they stand up and their shadows hover over me. Even Bustling Tito crosses his arms, and I’m out numbered. “But if you don’t want to sleep with her, someone on the team will, and after today I’m not letting it slide. I want a video of you nailing her,” he says.
“That video of Trailer Girl was dope!” One of the linemen held up his hand, and they high-five. “Can’t wait to see that one posted.”
“You’re not posting shit about Payt on that website!” I stomp up to Brody and shove him in the shoulder pads, nearly knocking him off his feet. Tension in the air grows thick. “Let her off the hook!”
“What?” Brody laughs, both of his eyebrows lifting. He steps closer, his chest pressing against mine with an expressionless face. “I can post whatever I want.” I’ve been tackled plenty of times before. He doesn’t phase me.
My blood boils and I can’t stand here and take it. I slug at him, my knuckles shattering as I land a punch to his face. The next thing I remember is a sharp pain in my stomach and I double over. Someone grabs me by the jersey and tosses me to the ground. Everything goes black as I eat dirt, and the taste of iron finds my tongue.
There's nothing I can do. I can’t fist-fight my way out of it, or stop Brody. He can post whatever he wants because he made the website. Any sore loser with a bruised ego can put the girl dumping them on blast. People all over the campus call out “the sluts”. Girls’ social media profiles and numbers are linked for anyone to click on. We all know who’s easy to get with, the screamers, the flexible girls who like hair pulling, and it’s clickbait who caught chlamydia last weekend. We know who cheated on who.
There are no threads with Payton mentioned as I checked before practice, but the second they put her nudes up, she’ll spiral. And out of all the girls in the universe, I know she doesn’t deserve it.
Someone wraps a fist around my hair, pulling me off the ground. I go in and out of blackout spells. “It came out of your mouth that you wouldn’t do this to my sister,” I say, and a sharp pain thrashes against my cheek.
“But she isn’t your sister, now is she?” Brody asks.
No, she’s not. He’s caught me there, but I stumbled out of the bedroom every weekend to see Payton inches away and never thought about laying a finger on her. Sleepovers, and her invading the house lodges in the back of my mind. She was always like a little sister but in the past seventy-two hours, the way I see her switched gears.
Brody’s fists twist around my jersey, pulling my face inches from him.“She decided to play the game, and you’re not sweet-talking me out of it!” He throws me to the ground and another foot rams into my stomach.
“You said you wouldn’t do this to them!”
“I’m not going to delete those damn pictures of that piece of trash!” Brody spits in my face. He twisted his fist in my hair, leaning in. “Ask me one more time, and you won’t be breathing.” He punches me in the face again. “Now are we good, Crab?!”
“Break it up!” Coach hollers. He pushes the team aside as Jared and Nick lift me up by the arms and help me steady myself. “Both of you, my office. Now!”
Chapter thirteen
Payton
Practice is over and I’m beat. I’m about ten steps away from the girls’ locker room when someone yanks my upper arm and tosses me into the janitor’s closet.
“What the hell!” I ball my fist, ready to punch someone square in the face for the second time today. I swivel around, and there’s Ryder with a fat bloody lip and a cut against his eyebrow. He uses the collar of his jersey to wipe the remnants of blood off his lip.
“What happened?” I grab onto his forearms. He’s soaking in sweat. Sheer panic creeps up my spine, and the sight of Ryder leaves me incapable of catching my breath. His chiseled features are marred with cuts and bruises.
“Shh,” he presses a finger to his lips and closes the janitor’s closet. His voice shakes. Ryder isn’t the type of guy to express fear, but he’s shuddering and his face is ashen.
“Why are we hiding in the janitor’s closet? What happened to you?”
“Shh, lower your voice,” He hushes. His eyes dart toward the door like he’s expecting someone to chase him down. I swallow a large lump stuck in my throat. All the blood drains from my face, and my heart thuds hard.
“Did you get into a fight?”
“Yes... with Brody.”
“Why?”
“I got mad.” He runs a sweaty palm through his hair and falls against the wall.
“You’re always mad. I should just tell security what happened.” I reach for the doorknob, but Ryder tugs on my cheer top, pulling me back. A weight presses on my chest, robbing me of breath.
“I can handle it.” He grabs my shoulders and shakes me to pay attention to him.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you because of me.”
“Payton... listen...” Ryder grabs me by the cheek and presses his lips on my mouth. His tongue laps with mine for only a few seconds and he leaves me with the faint taste of copper as he pulls away. “You can’t go to security, you can’t go to the board. Nothing we do will stop his game. There are no rules to the internet, there aren’t any laws in place. You played the game, he took the pictures. If you don’t want them online, we do what he says.”
“What?”
“Before summer, he agreed he wouldn’t put Charlie through the hazing game, but that agreement didn’t include you. He lied to me. I’m sorry...”
“You stood up for me?”
“I know you don’t want to do this...” His sweaty forehead leans on mine, and his hands tremble. “I have to go, I’m sorry...” One hand brushes around the crease of my neck, and he kisses me hard.
“Wait!” I open my eyes, but he’s gone. He left the janitor’s closet without an answer.
Today proves I’ll undoubtedly fail at college life. I wait several minutes and slip out of the closet and into the crowded hallway. Charlie links arms with me shortly after and then drags me into the girls’ locker room. I’m a little sick of being dragged into places, but at least it smells a million times better here than the men’s. There is some fruitiness wafting in the air, and the floral shampoo mixes with the steam of the showers.
“You have some nerve.” She rolls her eyes in annoyance.
“Let me explain” I halt and look Charlie dead in the eyes. I run a jerky hand through my hair as I watch the sea of cheerleaders swarming in and out. Lockers jimmy open. Giggles and screaming bounce around at every corner. “I barged into the men’s locker room this morning, and I messed up. I’m sorry.”
“Uh-huh.” Charlie wraps an arm around my shoulder and whispers, “Care to explain why?”
The ache plunders my gut. Ryder. Me. Kissing. The humiliation of the videos might be on her phone too. I lost my mind earlier today. My stomach swirls in circles, and I can barf at any second. I shrug her off and tremble all over as I reach my locker, staring at the lock dial.
“Are you not going to say anything?” She holds out her palms.
“Brody sent me the pictures he took. I thought he was going to post them online.” I bite my tongue with the words coming out because it’s going to lead to the conversation of who I landed on, who the bottle picked.
“So instead of ignoring him, you make a scene in the men’s locker room? There are videos of you beating him up! It’s on every other reel I’m scrolling through online,” she says, and it comes off colder than I expected. The embarrassment is written all over her body. “You are going to make people really think you’re from a trailer home acting unhinged like that.”
“You made me play that stupid game. No one bothers to stand up to him. I’m not going to sit back and let him walk all over me like that,” I argue.
“You could have talked to me before hosting your own Jerry Springer show.” She leans against the lockers, with her head hitting the metal, her eyes staring up at the ceiling coated with a layer of steam.
“What happened between you and my brother, then?”
My heartbeat hammers in my ears.
“Nothing.” I chew on the inside of my cheek. My demons dance around me holding hands and singing kumbaya enjoying the lie leaking off my tongue. “I got wet, and he lent me his gym clothes.”
Charlie puckers her lips together, props her foot against the lockers, and folds her arms. She’s pissed. “There is something you are not telling me? What is it?”
How do I spin this without spilling out the entire truth and ruining our friendship?
“I’ll spare you the trouble and I can move out of the dorm. You don’t deserve me being a shitty friend.” I turn my back, twisting the lock and putting in the combination I’ve memorized since the sixth grade, and still get it wrong with my fingertips shaking. I yank on it, huffing, and try again.
“Wait what? I never said you need to move out!” Her eyes shake. I manage to open my locker and it clunks against the metal. “So, you’re going to act like a baby and leave because you don’t like what you hear. You can’t run away from your problems.”
The weight in my heart is heavier than my backpack crammed in the tiny locker. I’m yanking it out and it plops to the floor.
“I’m a shitty friend!”
“No, you aren’t. Where is this coming from? I just want you to tell me the truth about what happened.”
I slam the locker shut and swivel the bag around my shoulder. I told her the truth slash half-truth. I left out the part with the bottle, my naked ass grinding on Ryder Friday night and getting off on him. And kissing him, and kissing him some more, and liking the way my legs burn with the fire. It should be easy to tell her everything, but I’m drowning in cement.
“So that’s it?” Charlie follows my heavy footsteps to the neon green exit sign. “Stop walking away from me!” She dashes forward, with her pretty curls bouncing as she stands in front of me. When I slide to the right, she follows. When I step to the left, she mirrors my movements. “Clearly, you’re only telling me part of the truth. You really want to throw away fifteen years of friendship? I tell you every goddamn thing about me. You’re my only true friend, and you’ve never lied to me.”
“Because you wouldn’t understand what happened. I told you what you needed to know, which was true. He defended me because Brody sent those photos. What else do you want from me?” I’m at the point of ripping every hair follicle out of my skull.
“What the hell?”
I shake a head. “I’m sorry. He got into a fight with him today. I’m really sorry. He shouldn’t get hurt because of me.”
Our argument dies. Neither of us can make eye contact. Charlie carves a hand through her hair, holding it back as she stares into the distance, shaking her head and biting her bottom lip. She releases her grip and her eyes simmer. “That was our one rule when we turned thirteen. To never lie to each other.” She circles around me, using two hands to push open the doors to the locker room, and disappearing.
I leave, taking the fifteen-minute walk off campus and to the dorms. As I stroll down the sidewalk, I’m glued to my phone. There are several videos of me hitting and screaming at Brody. So far it has over five thousand views, and each time I swipe out of the video, a new one pops up. I fear clicking on the comments or the messaging popping up in the right corner. I log off and shove the phone into my pocket.
The magical word people love to call me crawls into my bloodstream. Trash. I feel it burrowing deep inside me the second Charlie called me out as a liar. I have this dreadful pit in my stomach that her life would be a million times better if I dropped out and became an old lady with two dozen cats to keep me company.
I cross the main street and stumble onto loose gravel. Weedy fringes and dandelions grow along the sidewalk up to the dorms. I make my way to the third floor and climb the steps into the musty room with my unpacked boxes. It’s quiet and still, with dust floating in the light seeping through the blinds. I plop onto an unmade bed with the embarrassing princess sheets. I pulled out my phone after seeing half a dozen messages from Charlie.
Charlie: Brody called. Everything is chill. He’s not gonna post our nudes.
Charlie: Hello?
Charlie: I don’t want a different dorm mate. Please don’t think you need to move out. I wish you didn’t hide things from me. We are supposed to be best friends. I legit tell you freaking everything, and I don’t get why you can’t tell me what happened.
Charlie: Hello?
Charlie: Ryder’s at the house. Do you want to come over?
Charlie: Answer me!
I swipe out of her messages. She’ll never comprehend how transparent my feelings are for her brother right this second. There won’t be a morning when I wake up without regretting my entire being for playing Dirty Roulette.
Charlie, at this point, will dump me as a friend. It utterly guts me. She’s the one who combed my hair and showed me how to put eyeliner on. Then she’d share her brand-name clothes. When I begged Mum to take me shopping at the mall, she’d drag me into Goodwill reeking of Windex instead.
I’d search for band tee shirts and old CDs. I found a boom box one day and ever since, I blasted music in my room. The clothes I got from Goodwill didn’t last long. Most shirts fit baggy on me. Charlie handed over old skinny jeans and in return, I delivered chill music.
I decided to distract myself by unpacking. The first thing I pull out of the boxes is my boom box and a stack of vintage CDs so I can play some music. I find posters littered with folded tape. At this point, it might be the one thing I can do to calm my nerves.
Chapter fourteen
Ryder
“Wake up, heifer!” Charlie slings the bedroom door open and invites herself in. I slap at the alarm clock on my nightstand, confused. What time is it? I wrestle the sheets with my feet and leap out of bed in a sheer panic. I’m late for the gym, class, or for a second practice randomly put into my schedule.
“Why are you here?”
“I dunno, your door wasn’t locked. Thought I’d say hi.”
“What time is it?” I groan and press two fingers into my eye sockets before the blurry red numbers on the clock materialize. It’s nine in the evening, and I’m groggier than a sloth. I seriously slept for three hours, but I did drink four glasses of Hennessy. “What do you want?” I ask.
“Payton won’t answer my texts,” Charlie complains, tilting her head to one side with the biggest pout. “And she was wearing your ugly-ass basketball shorts. You got in a fight with Brody, so talk!”
I run a hand over my face. “Why don’t you go check the dorm and go talk to her?”
“I tried. My best friend is lying to me, and now I’m betting my brother wants to sleep with her.”
The mere sound of her voice impales me in the stomach right where the bruises are forming. My lip throbs and I run my front teeth over a scab by mistake, scraping it off. I press two fingers against it and I’m bleeding again. Even my right hand aches. At this rate, Charlie isn’t going to get off my ass unless I talk. I’m going to need an on-call nurse to inject me with some morphine for the headache she’s gonna give me.
“I don’t want to sleep with her,” I lie. I would sleep with her in a heartbeat if she said yes. But there’s no way I’m having this conversation with my sister. The dick and his cravings don’t need to liquefy her ears.
“Then what’s going on between you and Payton?” Charlie’s cheeks turn crimson, and her chest heaves from her ragged breaths. I’m not sure if she’s about to lunge at me or start crying.
“Nothing is going on between us.” I shrug, with my eyes darting across the room where a bomb went off. My dirty clothes, the half-eaten slice of pizza I forgot to throw away, and empty energy drinks litter the floor – I look anywhere but at her. “I’d do the same thing for you.” I suck on my bottom lip and the taste of iron coats my dry tongue.
Charlie fiddles with the hodge-podge of change on the dresser, staring at the reflection of some of the quarters, and playing with the different shades of copper pennies. “She seems off. Ever since the party, something just doesn’t feel right.”
Payton asked me not to tattle, but the little voice in my head tells me to spill. If Charlie wasn’t my sister, it would be easier to put it on blast that Payton turned me into a rabid animal the other night. I can’t sleep because of her. A fantasy about sucking on Payton’s pink nipples, and her underneath me won’t quit popping up. These daydreaming episodes are worse than a hangover on the bathroom floor.
