Page 23 of The Prom Queen Project
“Can I help you with something?”
“If there was a competition about which one of us hated the other more, who do you think would win? Because if looks could kill, then maybe you—”
“Elliot,” I said, cutting him off. “Why are you talking to me at school?”
“What? Afraid talking to the emo kid will ruin your chance at winning Prom Queen?”
Yes.“No. I just don’t want to spend any more time with you than I already have to.”
“And you think I do?”
“Elliot.” I let out a slow breath, trying to rid myself of the urge to punch him in the gut. “What. Do. You. Want.”
“I’m gonna be late for our tutoring thing tomorrow. Just thought I’d let you know so you don’t sit there twirling your hair with that dumbass look on your face.”
I flared my nostrils while pinching the bridge of my nose. “Late? Why?”
“Why do you care? Don’t you have parties to attend or outcasts to avoid?”
Elliot’s phone started to vibrate. He ignored it.
“Seriously?” I groaned and shook my head in disbelief. “Should’ve known you’d try to use my plan against me.”
His phone buzzed again.
“You think I have some kind of vendetta against you that I would go out of my way to sabotage your stupid plan?” he scoffed, his jaw becoming tense as he pursed his lips. “I have better things to do with my time, Clarke.”
Buzz, Buzz.
“Are you trying to ruin my deal with Mrs. Hawthorne?”
“I’m not trying to ruin anything, Clarke,” he spewed through gritted teeth. “Unlike you, I actually have other responsibilities that aren’t winning some lame ass crown.”
Buzzzz.
“You gonna get that or something?”
I scrunched my eyebrows watching as Elliot thrust his hand in his pocket and hastily whipped out his phone, unlockingthe screen. I couldn’t make out the words, but a flurry of text messages sprang up as he swiped his finger downward, his eyes scanning the text. The crease on his forehead deepened.
“I gotta go.” He sighed, his gaze still fixed on his phone. “And just so you know, the only reason I’m not bothering to wreck your ridiculous campaign is because I don’t have to—you’ll do that all on your own.”
My jaw tightened. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“No offense, Clarke, but you’re a disaster waiting to happen. You’re trapped in your own little bubble, and you think that everyone loves you, but how many people do you think actually care about you in a way that actually means something?”
My breathing hitched.
It’s not like I didn’t feel the exact same hatred about myself, but the whole goal of being this bubbly and outgoing person at school was to prevent other people from thinking the same thing.
“That’s not true! Everyone loves me!” I shook my head as my face became flushed. “I don’t get bullied, I-I have lots of friends—”
“Mmhm. Keep telling yourself that.”
“I…I—”
My hands began to tremble, and I felt my breathing quicken. The ceiling was about to collapse on top of me. I could feel it. Even the skin on my scalp began to tingle amidst the crushing sensation of the building’s impending disaster. How come nobody else could feel the earthquake that was causing the walls to rattle? My chest filled with heat, the burning pressure consuming my ribcage. I hated that I cared so much, but I couldn’t turn it off.How do you not care?I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to defend myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak. If I opened my mouth again, I would run the risk of letting all mysecrets and every emotion I held dear rattle off my tongue. The only person I really talked to—likereallyspoke to—was Jessie.
But she wasn’t here anymore.
