Page 32 of Defiant
It was not the first time Bobbi had mentioned her home life, but I’d never thought to ask her to elaborate; it never seemed like my business. “I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing what else to say. Yeah, you could call me lame. I sucked, and I knew it.
Her shoulders rose and fell once. “It’s okay. I’m used to it. She’s been gone a few years now.” Bobbi tugged on the sweater near her waist. “So, you really do live in the Fitzpatrick’s house.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “Yep. Now you get why I don’t really fit in here.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” Bobbi said, though I knew she was just trying to be nice. “If anything, that should be your defense—living with Oliver Fitzpatrick. A lot of families use him as their lawyer. He’s pretty well-respected around here.” Her eyes drifted over to the mantle, to the photographs and picture frames. “Are his sons here? I know Celeste dropped out of school and rumors said she moved away, but I figured his sons would still be around.”
Shaking my head, I answered, “No, it’s just me, my mom, and Oliver.” Felt weird to call him Ollie in front of her. Not sure why she even cared, unless she was hoping to get a nice, long view of either Fitzpatrick son. Maybe she thought they were cute. Again, anyone with eyes would’ve thought they were.
Bobbi’s lips pursed. “It’s a big house for just the three of you.”
“Yeah, my mom has to clean it all the time. You’d be surprised how dusty everything gets.”
“Everything around here is covered in dust,” she muttered.
I had no idea what exactly she meant by that, but I knew she meant more than just the houses. Bobbi had said there was a dark underbelly to this place, and the longer I was here, the more I realized she was right.
“Well,” she cut into my thoughts, “do you want to practice here, or someplace else?”
After a quick glance around the living room, and remembering my mom wasn’t too far away in the kitchen, I figured it would be best if we headed up to my room and practiced there. That way, only Bobbi would hear my cat-screeching voice.
I took her upstairs. Felt weird, almost like giving someone a tour of a house that wasn’t mine, even though I technically did live here. As we pushed into my room and I told her she could drop her bag anywhere, I closed the door. It would give us some semblance of privacy, at least, though I bet my mom would find a way to come up here and bug us again.
The room was way bigger than I’d like, full of empty space and furniture that was just a tad too nice for me. I meant it when I said my mom and I literally dropped everything to come here. The only things we took were our clothes and some knickknacks; everything else we threw out or left. Abandoning your old life was not something I would wish upon anyone.
Except maybe Archer. I’d like to see how he would fare without the money and the bitchy girlfriend.
Dread for singing rose in my gut as I sat on my bed and got out my sheet music. Bobbi went to my desk, spinning the chair out as she did the same. She knew how to read sheet music and figure out pitch and tone a whole lot better than me. If I could sing, I’d be jealous. Then again, if I could sing, maybe I would’ve taken choir at my old school and been just as good as she was at it all.
“You know,” Bobbi said, “with the choir concert in less than two weeks…” She trailed off, causing me to look at her, my brows drawing together in confusion.
“What?”
“I’m just thinking, I might know the perfect way to get back at Brittany and her crew,” she said, eyes on me as she bit her bottom lip. “The winter formal is the week after the concert. She won homecoming queen, and I don’t doubt she thinks she’ll win the crown there, too—this time with Archer.”
I had no idea where she was going with this, but I was listening. If Bobbi’s plan was for me to campaign and miraculously beat Brittany at her own game, it would fail spectacularly. There was no way I’d win, so that’s what I told her.
“If your plan is for me to beat her, let me stop you right there,” I said. “There is absolutely no way I can get a single vote for something like that. I mean, look at me, first off. And second, the whole school is on Brittany’s side, anyway. I don’t think anyone would vote for me.”
“If you go the honorable route, but if we stage it right, it won’t matter who gets the most votes.”
All I could do was blink. Was Bobbi saying we should rig the results? Color me intrigued, because it was not where I thought she was going with this at all.
I fell onto my stomach, bouncing a bit on the bed and propping up my face with a hand beneath my chin as I stared at her. “Go on.”
“I have a friend who’s on the council. She’s in charge of tallying the votes and printing off the ballot the principal will read at the dance.”
“And she’ll help?”
Bobbi nodded. “She used to be Brittany’s friend, back in elementary school. Then Brittany got her period and grew boobs before everyone else, and she dropped her the moment she realized the power she had over the boys.” She shrugged. “She’s been harboring resentment toward her ever since. Brittany has a way of excluding people, making them feel like shit about themselves and basically victim-blaming. She’ll help, and by the time everyone realizes the result was rigged, it’ll be too late.” A sly smile spread across her face. “I bet it’ll be epic, Brittany’s reaction to losing.”
I nodded with her, because I could totally see her throwing some shit for losing. As if a stupid crown at a stupid high school dance actually meant something. Here’s a hint: it didn’t. Not really. It was just a gaudy piece of fake jewelry that would age and get dusty as the years wore on.
Then again, this was Midpark. Maybe the crown wouldn’t be so fake after all.
“You really think we could pull something like that off?” I asked. I’d be down for it; in the meantime, I could plan with Vaughn some way to get back at Archer.
“I’m sure of it,” she said, toying with the corner of her sheet music. “As long as you’d be okay with it. Honestly, I’d love to watch Brittany fall down a few pegs.”
