Page 75 of Make Me Pretty
With a shuddering sigh, I lock my phone and shove it back in my bag. I can’t respond to that—not without already feeling like the biggest piece of shit.
Elise and I have breakfast together every morning. When she gets home from work, she knocks to make sure I’m up, and then, after working all fucking night, proceeds to cook me food. Eggs, pancakes, french toast, whatever. We sit and eat together. She asks about school, how I’m doing. If I need anything.
Sometimes Peris joins, but more often than not, he grabs something to go and is out the door, leaving me to walk the ten minutes to school. It hurts a little watching Elise’s face as she watches her son leave but more so because I know it’s my own fault.
Life has never been so fucking good to me. And I tried not to fall for it—Elise’s kindness and the comfort she brings—but it was impossible, and I know that now.
Feeling secure, feelingsafefor the first time in my life is everything I didn’t know I could have, even with thevoicein my head telling me it can never last. I haven’t earned it, so it will disappear—and it’s right. I know it is because it’s never been wrong before, but it can’t hurt to be just…be.
At least for a little while.
I’ll legally be eighteen in a couple of months, and then, it’ll all be over.
I just hope I can make it till then.
But if Elise finds out about me, about what I’ve done to Peris… If he runs his mouth, it’ll all be over.
The only question is:is it worth it?To know Peris, to be with him this way.
My eyes lose focusas I stare out at the massive crowds filing into the bleachers. It doesn’t even look like there’s any room left, and yet, people just keep coming.
“Is it always this…” I twirl my hands in the hair in front of me before tugging on the metal in my ears.
“It’s against Southview Prep.” At my blank stare, Sierra rolls her eyes. “I keep forgetting you’re new here. They’re basically our rival school. Peris and Jordan are, like, the two best point guards in the state.”
I blink. “So…”
“It’s senior year. Both of them want scholarships to the same school. For the same position, and only one of them will get it.And it’s probably gonna be whoever wins this game and takes their team to state.”
“Oh.” I keep forgetting people actually care about this shit.
Sierra’s eyebrow arches, amusement twitching her lips. “Yep.”
“Explains all the… stuff,” I mumble. She laughs and pats my shoulder.
“It does. I know it’s a lot, but if you need a break, just say so. We can work around the formation, no problem.”
“I’m in the back anyway; it’s not like people will notice.”
She shrugs but doesn’t comment as she stares out at the people filing in. I probably said something offensive, but fuck if I know what it was.
I glance down at the purple and white pom poms in my lap and finger the plastic strands as I readily ignore the eyes on the side of my face, far used to it by now. Though they seem to have multiplied since I walked out in a skirt.
A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s almost game time, so I pull my gaze from the cold, hard floor beneath my numb ass to the teams practicing side-by-side, basketballs flying this way and that.
I get lost in the chaos trying to follow them, so I focus on Peris and his best friend, Gabriel. They work well beside each other, always seeming to know where the other is at. Peris continuously opens up scoring opportunities, and I watch in growing amazement with every swish of the ball through the net.
One of the refs walks across the court, his striped shirt a sharp contrast to the sea of purple and blue. A guy with a buzzed head turns around with a ball between his fingers and strides across the court.
When it’s clear what his intent is, it’s like the entire fucking gym catches the walk of both team captains toward one another. Once they’re within speaking distance, a low-running buzzpermeates the room. And for the first time since I stepped foot on the court, I let myself look at him.
Peris’s shoulders are broad in his purple jersey, the color only bringing out the tan in his skin. His thick hair is slicked back from his face with what is probably some sort of gel. Dark brows are furrowed, creating a deep crevice between them as he stands in front of who I assume is Jordan with my scratches on full display.
I watch the exchange, fascinated in the minute shifts in his expressions. To most, he remains utterly stoic, but I catch the twitch of his left brow, the way his fingers flutter against his crossed forearms. The smallest hook to his top lip—a clear indication of his utter disgust.
It’s a face I’m particularly intimate with.
Gabe comes up behind him and lays a hand on Peris’s shoulder. He doesn’t even acknowledge it, lips still moving in an unheard conversation with Jordan. The other guy’s hands ball at his sides, shoulders hiking toward his ears.
