Ace of Spades Sneak Peek(12)

I climb the steps of the spacious, dark oak stage, slipping through a gap in the thick green curtains to find a circle of students on the other side. They’re all seated on black metal chairs, with white scripts on their laps. Apart from one girl who looks at me with an offended expression, no one else even glances my way. It’s a weird change from the hallway earlier.

“This is a closed practice,” the girl says, her plaid skirt the only item fitting the school’s rule book. The rest of her is drenched in black—black leather jacket, black fishnet tights, black band T-shirt, black boots. The first day of school is the only time everyone follows the dress code. After that, it becomes more of a suggestion than an enforced rule. I guess this is one of the many things you can get away with at Niveus, but I’ve never had the money to customize my uniform past the beat-up Vans I wear most of the time.

“I’m here to talk to Scotty,” I say. We turn to where Scotty is sitting, flipping through his script like I’m not here. My heart jolts a little when I see his face, though not for any reason other than the fact that I haven’t seen him since just before summer break, at prom. He’d brought some girl from the lacrosse team and spent most of the night obviously trying not to look at me. It’s been even longer since we spoke—I actually think the last time I spoke to Scotty was to break up with him.

Scotty’s hair is longer now, some of it tied up in a messy knot, while the rest sweeps his shoulders. Like the frowning girl, he’s customized his uniform, and like always, it’s fancy, his designer shoes screaming Rich kid.

The more I look at him, the angrier I feel. He didn’t even notice me walk in, distracted by his stupid script.

The girl looks at me again through squinted eyes, then realization smacks into her face.

“Shit, Scotty.”

He finally looks up at her, then follows her gaze to me, and his blue eyes widen.

“What the fuck, Scotty?” I grind out.

“Can we go outside?” he asks, abandoning the script on his chair as he stands.

Everyone else is staring at their scripts now, as if the pages suddenly got more interesting—like they’re not listening to every word. I push past the curtains and jump down from the stage to wait for Scotty. He scoots down a moment later and I shove him back.

“Whoa!” He puts his hands up, shielding himself. “Before you kill me, you should know it wasn’t me. I didn’t send that picture to anyone,” he says, straightening his blazer.

“You really expect me to believe that?”

Naturally, I can’t trust a word that Scotty says. Not after he cheated on both me and his SATs.

“I don’t even have pictures of you anymore; I got a new phone.” He waves it at me. The latest model, of course. “Besides, why would I out myself? Especially at Niveus? You know how they take news like this. They’re treating me like I’m some socialite now, keep asking me for details…” He smiles.

He’s loving this, which is expected. Scotty loves being spoken about, and unlike when we were dating—when he was firmly in the closet—his sexuality is now an open secret among the arts students. Even I hear about his sexcapades from my corner of the school. Which is why that picture being released feels aimed more at me than at him. And it’s also why I think he might be the one behind it.

“It’s embarrassing, really—I don’t even know how I’m gonna show my face at football practice without the guys wanting to know stuff.”

I’m not even surprised that this is Scotty’s only concern. He doesn’t have to think about how the boys in his neighborhood would react if they saw it.

I hate past-me for trusting him that much. I hate him for making me trust him that much. I already feel so exhausted and first period hasn’t even started yet.

“I swear, Scotty, if you’re lying to me about deleting all of it, I’ll kill you.”

“I’m not lying; wish I was, though. We were quite photogenic, weren’t we…?” He moves toward me. “And video-genic, if my memory serves me right. It’s a shame I don’t have those files.”

My ex is a psychopath. I always forget that part when I think about the other reasons we broke up. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping the tears that desperately want to fall don’t. Scotty seeing me cry would be another victory for him and a loss for me.

“Stay the fuck away from me, okay?” I move back. “Keep me out of your games.”

Turning, I storm out of Crombie and go to Jack’s locker. I feel weird not having seen him yet this morning. I usually see him by now, even on days when he goes to school early. I need someone to talk to about this.

Jack is always easy to find in a crowd. He’s the only guy with a buzz cut at Niveus.

“Hey.”

Jack stiffens at the sound of my voice. He pauses, then goes back to searching for whatever it is he needs from his locker.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

“You weren’t at your place this morning … Your uncle said you left for school early.”

He nods, his pale skin tinted pink now. “Yeah, had to talk to my math teacher.”

“Okay,” I say, feeling a little relieved. At least he wasn’t avoiding me because of the picture.

I can feel eyes on us. He doesn’t seem to notice.