Chapter 8

“Lexi, breakfast’s ready!”

I sighed loudly at my mom’s high-pitched scream that I’d somehow gotten used to with time, flung my backpack over my back, checked in the mirror one last time—a ritual I’d performed every day since I got into high school—to reassure myself that I was an embodiment of knowledge and power and I could achieve anything I set my mind to, including surviving Logan Hernández.

Running down the stairs, I dashed toward the dining table and helped myself to some toast and orange juice. I didn’t really like eating breakfast but my mom was big on eating healthy and so I humored her just to get her off my back.

“Slow down, tiger,” Mom chuckled at me as she added another piece of toast to my plate. “You’ll get indigestion if you keep going like that.”

With my mouth full, I threw a, “No can do, Mom. I’m already late,” at her.

“Still, you need to eat something because—”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” I finished for her, rolling my eyes. I didn’t say it often but I was really proud of my mom. As a single mom, she’d made up her mind to take care of her only child and she was doing an amazing job. I mean, look how I turned out. I was a delight and most of it was thanks to her.

My dad had died when I was much younger and there were times when I didn’t feel his death as much. In my defense, I had barely known him. Since then, mom had been the only parent in my life and I honestly couldn’t ask for more.

“You ungrateful child.” She frowned at me. “People pay good money for nutrition advice from me, you know.” As an athletic nutritionist, she never let me forget it.

“I know.” Getting up, I kissed her cheek and ran for the door. “That’s why I live comfortably.”

Aimee had to go in extra early today so I was walking to school all by myself. I was grateful for it as I needed time alone to think. For some reason, Logan hadn’t left my mind since our meeting on the field yesterday. He’d really meant it; the look in his eyes told me so. Not even a hint of a smile or a shadow of mischievousness, he’d been all business.

Something told me there was more to it than the fact that we were stuck together for our senior year project. I mean, I’d known the boy since preschool. He’d never had an issue with making fun of me. In fact, he reveled in it. So why the sudden epiphany? What happened?

And why on earth did I need him to be my enemy so bad? It wasn’t like he was the only person I hated. There were a couple of other annoying people at school. It’s just that he was at the top of my ‘I hate you’ list.

Something was wrong; I was sure of it. Logan Hernandez had never said anything good to or about me before and I was perfectly fine with it. If there was something else happening, I was going to get to the bottom of it.

School came into view and, a few moments later, I was walking to my locker. The usual buzz during the beginning hours of a school day excited me. I liked learning and any opportunity to do so was welcomed. What I didn’t like, though, were the people. Honestly, I would’ve preferred to have been the only student at Cambridge High.

Save for my friends, I could barely tolerate anybody else.

But when I got to my locker, trouble awaited me. Some of Logan’s goons were casually chilling around my locker. My eyes narrowed when I got closer to them, scanning for Logan in the crowd and not finding him. What, did he send his goons to me and decided to stay out of it?

Nevertheless, I didn’t really care. It didn’t bother me that they were so close to my space because in the grand scheme of pretty much anything, they didn’t matter. Getting to my locker, I put in my combination and unlocked it, taking out my history textbook. Today was going to be a long day. I needed to check in with Logan to get a sure date of when we could go to the animal shelter to see what had to be done. If not for Principal Donna and her request for weekly reports on our progress, I’d have done the damn thing myself.

“What have you got there, Lexi?” The question came from Cameroon, Logan’s best friend and the baseball team’s pitcher. In my opinion, he considered himself a big shot for nothing because he was a big moron. I didn’t answer him for the sole reason that I thought he didn’t deserve to banter with me. I’d gotten so used to exchanging words with Logan that I didn’t see the need to do it with anybody else, and definitely not Cameroon.

I shut my locker after taking all I needed, then proceeded to walk away but was stopped when Cameroon’s intrusive hand shot out to grab me by the arm. My eyes shot to his hand gripping my upper arm and then to his face.

“Are you out of your mind?” I asked him because he just had to be.

He smirked at me and somehow it made me angry and it was strangely because his didn’t look anything like Logan's. His was ugly. “Aw, come on, Lexi. Don’t be like that. I just want to play,” he said, obviously enjoying the sneers and chuckles that came from the rest of his friends. “Or is it that you don’t have time for anyone else but Logan? Why, do you have a crush on him?”

Not only was I angry, I was getting embarrassed. A small crowd of nosy students was forming and I knew that Logan and Lexi’s gist in Cambridge High was usually a dominant topic among its students. The slightest word could be misconstrued to mean something else.

“You’re not his type, you know,” Cameroon sneered, looking me up and down in a manner that was absolutely demeaning. “He likes them a little big on the front.” His peering eyes rested on my chest and I almost slapped him. Physical violence was a no-no at school and Cameroon would not be the one to make me break any rules.

And that was exactly the reason my nose began to pinch and my eyes began watered; because I couldn’t do anything. Everyone understood the meaning of his words and I was sure it would be the topic of conversation for the rest of the week. I’d never felt so violated in my entire life. My hands almost came up to shield my chest but I refrained myself. That would have been the icing on Cameroon’s cake.

“Let her go, Cameroon, or I’ll break your hand.”

My eyes snapped up to meet Logan’s intense stare. He was talking to Cameroon but looking straight at me. Even though my blurry vision, I recognized the angry look on his face which I didn’t understand. What did he have to be angry about? I was the one who was being embarrassed.

Cameroon took one glance at Logan and his hand on my arm dropped. I willed myself not to cry, not to let them see that the words had hurt me. Picking up my shredded dignity, I walked away, passing Logan and making eye contact with him so he knew that my anger was not directed at Cameroon but at him.

Because really, this was all his fault.