Chapter 1: Charley
“Look out, arsehole alert,” Jett muttered, elbowing me in the side.
Penny and I turned to look in the direction he was glaring and there they were. St Michael’s College’s popular jerks, strutting down the corridor like they owned the place. Students ran out of the way so they didn’t get steamrolled as The Pops cruised the middle of the hallway like they were about to drop a late 90s boy band album, if my mum’s collection was anything to go by.
In the very middle, right at the front, was Zane Lindon. Steel grey eyes, light brown hair, and a grin that apparently sparkled. He’d been at the top of our year level’s Pops since I’d started in Year Eight. And, now we were in Year Twelve, that put him at the very top of The Pops for the whole damned school.
Under his arm, as she had been for the last few months, was Thea Green. Blonde hair and blue eyes, she was the typical sort of bimbo Zane always dated. I’d lost track of what number girlfriend she was. Calling Zane a player wasn’t strictly true but, in the three and a half years since he’d started dating, he’d barely been single.
A step behind and to his right was Cody Bleeker. Who was, probably conveniently for him, not as his name would imply. Guy was a little slow, but at least average on the hotness scale. He considered himself Zane’s closest friend, for whatever that was worth.
A step behind and to Zane’s left was Jory. Self-proclaimed jock, he was the guy who thought he was God’s gift to all female-kind. He was arrogant with a touch of creep, and a heavy dose of self-entitled. The very best kind.
And to Jory’s left was Harvey. The least popular Pop, Harvey was the scapegoat to their shenanigans, their jokes and their constant designated driver. Of course, he took it all in his stride lest he be booted from the team. Bless.
As they got closer, the surveying of Zane’s kingdom brought his glance to me. I gave him the usual sort of superficial nod. The kind that told him exactly what I thought of him while not making a big thing of it in front of his sycophants. I didn’t much care if they liked what I had to say or not, but it was best I limited my confrontations to what was absolutely necessary.
“Charley,” Zane smirked as they walked past.
“Zane.”
Someone across the hall turned and accidentally ran into Zane, the books in the poor kid’s arms tumbling to the floor. Zane paused and every Pop stopped with him with their arrogant, smug glares trained on the poor unfortunate.
“Tell me, Butterfingers.” Zane looked him over. “Did you leave your brain at home today? Or were you just born that way?”
“N…no…” he stammered. I was pretty sure the poor thing was only in Year Seven.
“N...no?” Jory laughed.
“Tell me, Zane,” I called, crossing my arms as I took a step forward.
Zane turned his charismatic grin on me. “What can I help you with, Charley?”
Now, I know the whole standing up against the mean kids should make me want to rise above their petty insults, to be a better person than them, to not stoop to their lows. But I wasn’t a saint, I was just a teenage girl pissed off at the patriarchy.
“Did an accident cause this desperation to overcompensate? Or were you just…” I held my hand up, bringing my thumb and finger to almost touching, “born that way?”
Zane’s smirk grew more rueful as he huffed a laugh and nodded.
“Clever, Baines,” Cody sneered and I nodded at him proudly.
“Some of us aren’t just a pretty face,” I told him.
Cody just kicked his chin in my direction as an acknowledgement as though lest I forget it, but didn’t say anything more. See? Little slow.
“Some of us actually have a brain to leave at home,” Jett added.
“Shut it, nerd,” Jory and Cody said at the same time. Then like the mature young men they were, they chuckled at the synchronisation and fist bumped.
I rolled my eyes. “The calibre of people you surround yourself with astounds me, Zane.”
“You could have been one of us, Charley.”
And I could have. Zane wasn’t just St Michael’s biggest dipshit. He also happened to live over my back fence. We had years of history. Once upon a time, he’d been my best friend. When I joined in at St Michael’s in Year Eight, I thought I was going to be able to hang out with my best friend every day.
But within these shining halls, where he played at king, he was someone I didn’t recognise. I’d hated his friends from the first day and the feeling had been all too mutual. So, in these hallways we played at hating each other. Well he played. I did hate who he was in these hallways.
I nodded thoughtfully as I looked around the hallway. “I’d rather rip out my own eyeballs,” I said pleasantly. I nodded to them all. “As always, it’s been anything but a pleasure, Pops.” I gave them a salute and led Penny and Jett down the hallway.
“Well, we showed them,” Penny said, doing a semi-decent job of sounding sure of herself.
I sighed as we pushed through the milling students all going in different directions. “I rose to the bait. Again. Ugh, Zane makes me so mad!”
“There’s a fine line between love and hate,” Jett reminded me for the thousandth time.
He and Penny had long since given up entertaining the notion that my overly enthusiastic hatred for Zane was in fact hiding something more romantic. Now they just pitied the fact that there was a part of Zane I couldn’t seem to let go of no matter how often I watched him be mean to others.
At least they didn’t judge me for it. Unlike me. Who judged myself for it on a regular basis.
****
I was still judging myself when I was getting ready for bed. Until I turned around and freaked the hell out on seeing the face at my bedroom window. When the face frowned at me, tapped on the glass and mimed pulling the window up with no luck, I realised I recognised it well.
I unlocked the window and opened it, neither of us caring I was in my bra and tracksuit pants. It wasn’t like there was a lot going on in either of them.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Seeing if you’re still up. Why was your window locked?”
I frowned at Zane Lindon. Zane had indeed been the neighbour over the back fence for something like fifteen years. He had indeed been my best friend once and he was definitely mostly an egotistical jerk these days. But, when it was just us, we were still as close as those eight-year-olds having sleepovers in his treehouse every non-school night. Because even though the guy could be a grade-A turd, I still loved him.
“Why aren’t you using the door?” I replied.
“I figured your parents were asleep. Didn’t want to wake them.” He looked at me pointedly. “Are you going to let me in?”
I stepped back to let him in as I quipped, “If only you were that thoughtful to the people you belittle every day.”
“It’s just high school fun. You need to learn to loosen up.”