"I HATE WANDA HARRIS," ZOE BEGAN.
Wanda had been in my choir class last semester. Or at least I think she was. She came and went like a mosquito on a summer day. Most of the time, she hung out behind the tennis courts, keeping cigarette companies in business. The janitor once found purple cigarette butts on school grounds, an exact match to the lipstick on Wanda's big mouth. When our principal, Mr. Reid, questioned her, she called him an asshole to his face. Or at least that's what she told anyone who'd listen.
"She's done a lot of shit to me," Zoe said. "But there was this one time when I thought we could actually stop being at each other's throats."
"Why were you at each other's throats?" I asked.
"Why does Tiffany make your life miserable?" she volleyed back. "Because she can."
It wasn't a stretch to see Wanda in the same light as Tiffany. The difference was, people didn't mess with Zoe. I'd seen them clear a path when she plowed down the hallway.
"People like that don't need a reason," Kade said. "They're evil."
Evil seemed a little strong, but I didn't want to contradict him. His brows were knit together in a scowl. He looked almost dangerous, in a sexy kind of way. Without warning, he locked eyes with me. Note to self: Stop. Staring. At. Kade.
"So we're both in detention after school," Zoe said, "and Wanda tells me she's having a party. The whole school's coming, she says. I think she's about to go, 'Everyone but you, ass wipe,' but she doesn't. What she says is, 'Let's bury the hatchet, Zoe. Come to my party.'"
I wondered what the hatchet was that needed burying.
"I'd never been to a party before. I mean, it's not like my dance card runneth over, you know? Hey, it sounded good. Real good. So I took the address she gave me and showed up. There was music blasting out of the house and voices laughing. The door was open a crack, so I went in. But there were only guys there. Not guys from school. Older ones." She paused, blinking hard like there was something in her eye.
Richie bit his lower lip. I looked away, knowing that Zoe didn't want us to see her cry.
"Go on," Kade urged.
I took in her panic-stricken expression. "Maybe she could do this later?" I suggested.
Kade cupped his chin in his hand. Waiting.
A tear escaped, rolling down Zoe's cheek. She caught it on the tip of her tongue and swallowed the evidence. "They were ready for me."
Ready for her? Pangs of sympathy shuddered through my body. I held my breath, mortified.
"'This is a gift from your buddy, Wanda,' one of them said. He grabbed me, tossing me to another guy, then another, and another. Like a basketball, their hands going all over me, everywhere."
Her face tightened, lips a pale, thin line.
"She set you up," Kade said.
"One of them unzipped his jeans while the others watched, cheering him on. I took advantage of the moment and delivered a round kick to the balls of the guy nearest me. They were so busy oohing and aahing in sympathy that I ran out the door. One of them ripped the shirt off my back, but I pulled harder and got the hell out of there."
Her eyes dropped to the mud-colored tank top under her camouflage jacket. "I liked that shirt. Sucks that they trashed it."
Kade slammed a fist down on an empty Coke can, flattening it like an accordion. We all jumped. "Like I said, evil."
This time, I couldn't disagree with him.
Richie leaned across Nora and lifted the pillow from Zoe's lap.
