Chapter 9 Don't mess with me (1)

"You sure know how to pick your moments. Ready for your first show, Scarlett?" Brooklyn teased, her voice echoing down the hallway clogged by Milo Grayson's fan girls. I lingered, hoping to catch a glimpse of the chaos, but it was all in vain.

"Since when are you so interested in Milo?" she prodded, a mix of curiosity and amusement in her tone.

"It's not that kind of interest," I quickly clarified, feeling the need to defend my curiosity. "It's probably just admiration for famous people."

Brooklyn sighed, rolling her eyes in a gesture of mock despair. "I know Milo is a hottie and he plays cool guitars. I don't want you acting like one of those crazy girls. There's a loss of decency. You're part of the cheerleading squad now, understand?"

"Of course, I am, Brooklyn," I assured her, even as my mind drifted to the cool girls of high school. They wore their confidence as effortlessly as their seductive outfits, capturing the attention of everyone around them. Yet, deep down, I harbored a disdain for the superficiality and the pain such dynamics often inflicted.

"Oh, right. I almost forgot, Skyler's picking you up for Will's party. I've got something else, so Kimberly will drop me off," Brooklyn mentioned casually, as if it was the most natural arrangement.

Kimberly again, I mused. Her eagerness to please Brooklyn was palpable. But then again, who wouldn't want to bask in the glow of the high school queen?

The mention of going to the party with Skyler filled me with reluctance. "Come on, I can go by myself. It's not like Will's house is far away," I argued, hoping to avoid the awkwardness that would surely ensue.

"The biker gangs have been so rampant lately, with so many lone women getting mugged. You don't want to get caught by them at night, do you?" Brooklyn countered, her concern veiled in logic. "Besides, I talked to Skyler, and I think you guys are going to get back together. You know how hard it is for Skyler to put his foot down. I have faith in you guys."

"Putting your foot down? Why does it sound like you're blaming me for everything? He's the one who starts it every time!" I protested, frustration bubbling to the surface.

"Scarlett," Brooklyn laughed, looking at me with a mix of affection and pity. "Never let a man hold your emotions. I'll admit Skyler is being childish, but you're both clinging to one thing, and it's obviously not going to end well. Know my secret? With guys like Skyler, you just have to go along with it, let him feel the respect you have for him, and they'll be devoted to you."

"Sounds exhausting," I sighed, the weight of her advice settling in.

"That's how relationships work," she concluded with a knowing smile. "Okay, time for you to go to the locker room. B95. Don't be late."

I approached the locker room with a mix of nerves and anticipation. As I entered, a coat jacket suddenly flew over my head, momentarily blinding me. "Can you help me hang my jacket in the locker next to you on your left?" a pretentious voice commanded, dripping with smugness.

Removing the jacket from my head, I faced the occupants of the locker room. Stella, perched on a lounge chair with a makeup mirror in hand, eyed me with undisguised disdain as she absently touched up her lipstick. The girls beside her, already in cheer uniforms, watched with feigned interest, eager to witness my response.

I let the jacket drop to the floor, refusing to play into Stella's expectations. She snapped her mirror shut, her eyes narrowing as she rose from her seat, her steps exaggerated in a show of dominance.

I steadied my breathing, determined not to let Stella intimidate me. As I moved forward, she blocked my path. "Pick it up," she demanded, her voice echoing in the locker room.

"Why don't you pick it up yourself?" I retorted, challenging her authority.