Crash - Williams Nicole (читаем бесплатно книги полностью .txt) 📗

Southpointe High is everything I only believed happened on reality television. The girls were twice as pretty as the average teenage girl, the boys could pass for college students, so called geeks get tossed into garbage cans or shoved into lockers, several female teachers made glaringly obvious passes at male students, and I witnessed at least a dozen different drug deals taking place in between periods.

And it wasn’t even lunch time yet.

The teacher was just going over the semester syllabus, which included reading and reviewing books I’d read in seventh grade, when the bell went off like it was bomb raid alert. Being the new girl, when everyone ushered me to the seat closest to the door, little did I realize it was also closest to the bell that was its own sonic boom.

Like the three periods before, fourth earned another roll of snickers and eyes as everyone watched me all but jump from my skin. I was going to need to buy stock in ibuprofen because I’d be taking it every four hours from now until graduation day on June third. And yes, I already had a countdown going.

“So you’re the new girl the guys are already betting on who will nail you first,” a girl that was so put together, so gorgeous, she had to be a veneer said.

“Excuse me?” I was all for being friendly, especially when I didn’t have a single friend here, but I wasn’t one to roll over and expose my throat.

Veneer girl caught on quick that I wouldn’t be her personal doormat she could wipe the mud off her Valentinos on because she smiled, waving at the air. “Don’t let anything the male species says or does around these parts upset you. I know the general consensus is they’ve supposedly evolved from apes, but that’s just an insult to apes in my opinion.”

“Oh-kay,” I muttered, slipping my book bag over my shoulder.

“I’m Taylor,” she said, flouncing her hair as a guy nudged past her, giving her a look that should strictly be reserved for the bedroom.

“I’m Lucy,” I said, not sure if this could be the makings of my first friend at Hell High or someone who subscribed to the keep your friends close and your enemies closer motto.

“Have any plans for lunch, Lucy?” Taylor asked, weaving her arm through mine and tugging me through the door.

I didn’t have a chance to reply.

“You have to sit with me and my gang. I’m not taking no for an answer,” she said, leading me down the hall, making that hall her bitch. I swear every head turned as she sashayed down that runway. Guys winked, whistled, and stared. Lots of staring. The girls pretended to ignore her, but shot glares or stink eyes from the side.

“Thanks?” I said, uncertain if I should be thankful.

“First impressions are everything and second impressions are nothing,” she said as we burst into the cafeteria. Same reaction in here as it had been in the hall. Whatever Taylor had here, it was powerful stuff. “Now we’ve got a bit of damage control to mitigate, but I think we’ll be all right if we play it right.”

My head was spinning. “And by damage control, you mean because the guys are already spreading rumors about who’s going to bang me first, or soonest, or hardest, or whatever the hell?” How disillusioned had I been to believe school was first and foremost a place to learn? I was having my former assumptions handed to me on a plate.

“The guys? Of course not,” Taylor said, waving back at a table in the far corner. “That’s the highest form of compliment in their books. It’s the girls, more specifically the girlfriends of the guys taking bets on the new girl. Plus, your wardrobe isn’t exactly disputing the slut image.”

My nose wrinkled. This girl spoke a language I wasn’t familiar with and she was taking a jab at my wardrobe. My skirt was a teensy bit short, yes, but I had on a cardigan and flats to tame it down, for god’s sake.

“They’re striking an offensive, a potent one.”

“And that would be?” I asked, wondering if at least some of the glares and stink eyes were aimed at me. In fact, that dark haired girl who didn’t know the meaning of less is more when it comes to mascara was definitely aiming that stink eye my way as she draped her arm over the guy beside her.

“They’ve labeled you a slut,” Taylor said with a shrug. “I’ve already seen it scrolled across two bathroom mirrors in last season’s lipstick and heard it whispered at least fifty times in the hallways.”

Was it possible to hate high school more? Yes, the answer is always yes.

“Fan-flipping-tastic,” I replied, holding my shoulders high. “And what did I do or not do to deserve the dumbasses of Southpointe High taking bets on bagging me and the girls that date them labeling me a slut?”

Of course I knew the world wasn’t fair, not everything made sense or followed a logical, harmonious path, but I at least wanted a reason why the world sucked if there was one.

“That,” Taylor stopped me, spinning me around so we were staring at the lunch line. My breath hitched in my lungs, and a bad case of vertigo followed. “Is the reason why.”

His tray slid to a stop as his shoulders tensed. A gray beanied back of the head turned and he looked at me like he knew exactly where I was. Jude’s eyes went from charcoal to molten silver in the space of a breath. A smile that was small, but honest broke and I felt my world beginning to spiral out of control again.

“I take it from that stupid grin on your face the rumors are true,” Taylor said, trying to steer me along, but I wasn’t moving. More truthfully, I couldn’t move when Jude looked at me the way he was now. “But here’s rule number one here at Southpointe High—if you want to keep even a moderately clean reputation, you don’t look at, talk to, or Lord forbid, date guys like Jude Ryder.”

Leaving his tray teetering in front of a tray of green gelatin substance, he headed my way, carving a line through the packed cafeteria. Anyone that saw him coming moved, and those that didn’t were tugged away by nearby friends or shouldered out of the way by Jude.

“He’s coming over here?” Taylor said, sounding like it was upending her social theories and beliefs.

“Yeah?” Didn’t seem that earth shattering to me.

Taylor shook her head like I was hopeless. “Jude never ever, in a hundred million years, pursues a woman. He’s the pursued, not the pursuer.”

This time it was my turn to shrug. “He’s just coming over to say hi.”

“Exactly. Jude doesn’t come over and say hi to anyone,” she said impatiently. “I’ll repeat, he’s the pursued.”

It felt like every eye in the cafeteria was pinging from Jude to me. This was high school hot off the presses drama unfolding right here. “I thought you just said if a girl cared about their reputation, they wouldn’t hang out with the likes of Jude. Isn’t that why I’m a bonafied slut in the eyes of Southpointe High’s fair, unbiased, give a person the benefit of the doubt population?”

“Yeah, I said that,” Taylor said, eyeing Jude in a way that made me feel all territorial. “But haven’t you noticed that with guys like Jude, a girl just doesn’t care about her reputation?”

There didn’t seem to be an appropriate answer to that, so I weaved out of her hold and headed for him.

“What are you doing?” Taylor said behind me.

“Going to say hi.”

“You can’t do that,” she hissed, rushing forward and grabbing my arm.

I wasn’t sure if this girl was doing drugs or had forgotten to take them, but she was starting to piss me off. “Listen. Taylor,” I said, spinning on her. “If my reputation can manage to get even sluttier by saying hi to someone, so damn well be it.” Tugging my arm free, I caught the beginnings of her wounded glare cast my way.

So much for making friends.

“Hey, Luce.”

If I’d still had any back there, the hair on my neck would have stood on end. “Hey, Jude.” Composing whatever I was able to of myself, I turned. He was still grinning like this had been the best thing to happen to him all week and, other than the fresh scar cris-crossing his eyebrow, he looked exactly the same: dark clothes, dark hat, dark secrets.