Page 90 of Toxic Kiss

They obviously don’t like that and swarm around me like little fruit flies, and I’m the rotting fruit.

“I saw a video of her online. Acting as if she belongs with the hottest band on earth.”

The girl leans her hip against the sales counter.

“Tragic.”

Another girl picks up the black and red bodice top I chose and grimaces.

“Sweetheart, you’re not a rockstar. Get over yourself.”

She tosses it back down onto the counter.

Heat floods my chest, the kind that has nothing to do with shame and everything to do with fury. But beneath that? The echo of something deeper. Another voice from years ago.

Junior Year

The cafeteria reeks of mystery meat and desperation, a typical teenage combination for any high school, I presume.

It’s Friday, and all I want is for school to be over so I can go shopping for Dad’s birthday present. His big day is three weeks away, which doesn’t give me much time to find the perfect gift. I look around the noisy room as I stand in line waiting for my high-calorie, low-quality food, and spot Sherry and Tina.

My smile falls. The cheerleaders aren’t exactly my biggest fans. Sherry used to be my friend, but like everyone else, she has decided that I’m toxic waste now that Cyrus has arrived.

I sigh, wishing I could go back in time to when things were simpler. My mom was alive. I didn’t know Cyrus, and the biggest issue I had was what movie marathon to watch on a Saturday.

But that’s not happening.

I step forward and grab some fruit, a chocolate pudding, and a hamburger before trying to decide where to sit that won’t be near…well, anyone.

Usually I go outside, but it has been raining all day, and I have on a new dress. One that I spent way too much time picking out and even more money buying, but I love it. More importantly, I love the way I feel in it. The cherry-red color matches my hair, and the cinch at the waist and unique cut speak to me. My mother would’ve said that it makes my eyes pop. She always loved me in red.

Also…Addison, the transfer in from Westminster, England, who I have a crush on, just smiled at me. My day is looking up.

Or it was until Cyrus walks in with not just one, but two girls hanging off his arms. He laughs at something the one on his left whispers.

Shit. The last thing I want is a confrontation with Cyrus. I try to retreat and end up trapped in his path with the football team goofing off right behind me. I struggle to push through them.

“Hey, watch it. Can’t you see where you’re going?”

I look up at the quarterback and swallow hard.

“Sorry.”

Ugh, why me?

The guys move out of the way, but it’s not fast enough, and Cyrus’s gaze flicks to me. He stares, eyes cold and calculating, then he smirks.

That one look says it all, and sweat instantly trickles down my spine. What crap is going to come out of his mouth this time?

He saunters over with bimbo one and two. At this point, I’m considering just calling them the Borg and giving them numbers. One hive mind of stupidity that does nothing but pant all over Cyrus like he is God’s gift to the world.

Pathetic.

“Looks like Haven’s auditioning for an upgrade from roadkill today,” he says.

The girls give me that ‘I pity you’ look.

“I think the outfit is cute. It’s almost like she belongs among the living,” the one on his right arm says.