Gus and I stop in front of Penn, far enough away to indicate this is not a social call on both ends. It feels like wielding a sword, and Gus hasn’t seen Penn’s yet, but it already has my blood on it from this morning when he promised to conquer my land and overthrow me.

“Howdy, asswipe.” Gus thrusts his hand Penn’s way for a fist bump.

“I see you brought some muscle,” Penn ridicules me. He leaves Gus’s fist to hang in the air until it drops. “Is she going to bore me to death talking about hair straighteners? Is that your strategy?”

Gus looks back and forth between us, whistling long and low.

“Oh, shit. I thought you two were banging for sure when Daria showed an ounce of emotion when you got your ass kicked by a sophomore. This bitch’s icy heart wouldn’t melt in a desert.”

“We are in the desert, idiot.” I roll my eyes.

“Exactly!” Gus wiggles his eyebrows. “How’re things, Penn? How’s your girl?”

Penn has a girl? That makes no sense. He kissed me yesterday. My heart starts beating way too fast.

“Not your business,” he snaps.

“Let’s get to the point. I have cheer practice.” I wave my hand.

“I think the point is you don’t belong in this conversation,” Penn says in that lazy, unaffected way that drives me nuts. “Gate’s that way, use it.” He motions for the school entrance.

Gus snickers, clapping Penn’s shoulder.

Okay, that’s it. Being a dick at home is somewhat acceptable, but in public? It’s a declaration of war.

“I think I’ll stay.” It’s my turn to cross my arms over my chest. “To translate your language to Gus. He doesn’t speak fluent white trash.”

“And you do?” Penn curves a devastatingly sophisticated eyebrow.

“Burn!” Gus fists the air, laughing. “Shit, you two hate each other. That’s hot.”

No joke.

Before I can think about the meaning of my words or their effect, they rush out of my mouth in a desperate plea to defend my honor.

“Fluent, actually. Your sister taught me.” I smirk.

In my defense, I hate myself even before the words leave my mouth. After they do, it feels like my heart is a sieve and all the poison gushes out. I can’t believe I just said that. I’m not even surprised when Penn’s face morphs from bored to fuming. His nostrils flare, and he removes his shades, his eyes narrowed into hooded slits.

My hand flies to my mouth. Penn’s expression turns volatile. It makes me think of the storms that rip through roofs and uproot trees.

“My, my, my…” Gus pops his gum, raising his ball cap and running his fingers through his blond hair. It’s so shiny and straight, it looks like dunes of sand flying in the wind. “Penn Scully is making enemies in high places, but I can’t say I’m surprised in the least. You were saying, Scully? I haven’t got all day. Some of us need to practice. The first game of the season isn’t one I want to lose.” He winks.

“Forget it, Bauer.” Penn shakes his head, pushing off his car. He’s leaving. He is leaving angry. Because of me. He slides into his car, and it’s all in slow motion.

I want to cry and scream, but I hit my quota of public meltdowns for this semester at the snake pit. Gus bangs his roof twice, parting ways with my new housemate with one last dig.

“Sick ride, dude. Did you steal it from a philanthropic divorcee?”

“Stole it from your ma, Gus. Although she likes a different type of ride, doesn’t she?”

Gus goes red. I don’t know why. I don’t care why. They’re both jerks.

I turn around and run back into the school. I can’t stand here. I can’t stay put. I can’t breathe.

Gus is yelling behind me that I’m becoming a freak and I should stop hanging out with the Luna girl. Not that I ever do. Luna and Knight and Vaughn and Bailey and Lev are a tight-knit group that doesn’t give a damn about what anyone thinks and have each other’s backs—and then there’s me. I give a whole bag of damns. It’s ironic since I’m one of the most feared and loathed people in school.

I run to the girls’ locker room across the football field. Since I’m late for practice, no one is there now. I swing the door open and lock myself inside a shower-changing stall. Collapsing against its wall, I drag my back along the ugly graffiti of slut-shaming words, some of them written by me, and rake my fingers down my face. Shit. Why did I have to bring Via up? Why am I such a jerk? The Hulk pounded his fists against my chest when we were out there, telling me not to show weakness.

So why do I feel so weak?

I wipe my face, down a bottle of water, and unlock the door. When I step out, I rid myself of my dress, yank my locker open, take out my cheer uniform, and slam it shut. Behind the locker, a familiar face pops into my vision.