Page 72 of Kiss Collector
“Listen, Zae, you know how competitive things are getting. I wouldn’t have agreed to this requirement if I didn’t think you could get it in time. We can’t lose you. You’re too good.”
She has way more faith in me than I do.
“I don’t have money for lessons.”
She bites her lip in thought. “Can you practice with the other girls? Have them spot you?”
I want to laugh at the irony. My only friend I can ask nowis Kenzie, and she’s so small. I shrug. “I’ll work on it.”
“Good.” She smiles and gives my shoulder a squeeze as the bell rings.
I’m despondent and have a hard time focusing through class. I’m in a little bit of a daze when I walk into the hallway afterward. So much so, that I’m completely confused when Meeka grabs my arm and pulls me aside like there’s a fire or something.
“Zae!” she whispers. “You need to watch your back. Camille Fletcher is after you.”
Wait... “What?!” Camille is not a girl I’d ever mess with. “Why?”
“She heard about you and Quinton and now she wants to kick your ass.”
Sheer panic overtakes me. “But she wasn’t there! I didn’t think they were together anymore!”
“They’ve been off and on since eighth grade,” Meeka says. “But even when they’re off, they’re still on. You know what I’m sayin’?”
Yeah. He’s hers. A tremble courses through me. This cannot be happening.
“I didn’t know,” I ramble. “There’s nothing going on with us. It was just one stupid, little, meaningless kiss! Can’t you tell her it was nothing?”
“Girl, we ain’t friends!”
Oh, crap. Oh, crap. I am dead. I’ve never been in a fight.
“Just watch out for her,” Meeka warns. “I gotta go.”
My eyes dart around the hall. Camille, when she actually comes to school, is always surrounded by an entourageof scary-ass girls. She always seems larger than life with her voluptuous body, long nails, and platinum hair usually pulled up in a tight ponytail with extensions that hang halfway down her back. I cannot believe I forgot about her and Quinton. Stupid, stupid alcohol!
I speed walk to history and rush through the door, happy to see old Mr. Hawk. Camille won’t mess with me in front of a teacher. I really wish I could tell Monica and Lin, but I feel cut off from them. Disconnected. Like I’m not allowed. I can’t run to them for support when we haven’t even made up.
“Today is guidance day,” Mr. Hawk reminds us. I’d forgotten all about guidance day. It’s when we talk to our counselors about our schedule for next year. We shuffle to our feet and I end up walking next to Angelo with his wide smile. I glance around the halls nervously, even though class is going on and hopefully Camille is in a room.
“I heard you took a siesta on Quinton’s deck,” Angelo whispers, nudging me with his elbow.
I give him a light shove, which makes him laugh.
“Quiet!” Mr. Hawk whispers over his shoulder.
I’m not in the mood to fake the funk when I sit down in front of Mrs. Crowley.
“How are things at home?”
“Awful. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Her penciled eyebrows rise. “I’m sorry to hear that. My door is open if you change your mind.”
I tap the arms of my chair, my knee bouncing.
“And what are your plans postgraduation, Zae? Have you taken any time to think about it over break?”
“I don’t know,” I answer. “College, I guess.”
