I was panting by the time I finished, and it was the only sound in the room. The rest was dead silence.
Everyone—Venice, James, the Scions, the people at the party—just stared at me in shock.
I swallowed hard, hit by the urge to bolt. Though I'd felt free and relieved when I was reaming Roman out, I now felt suffocated.
Without waiting for a response, I pushed my way through my mass of frozen classmates and sprinted through the door, not stopping until I'd reached Venice's car. I leaned against the driver's side, where no one could see me, and closed my eyes, breathing deeply. The fresh night air felt soothing against my heated skin, but I still felt like I was about to throw up.
I couldn't believe I just did that. A year of forcing myself into anonymity, all down the drain in one night. But still, at least I had my dignity intact. I knew if I'd just let it go on the way it had back there without saying anything, I would regret it for the rest of my life. It was about time someone stood up to the Scions, and if colleges wanted some lemming with no backbone, well, I guess they weren't the right ones for me.
"Maya!"
I looked up to see a distressed Venice. "Ohmygosh, I'm so sorry," she cried, throwing her arms around my neck. "This is all my fault! If I hadn't—if I hadn't made you come tonight, none of this would've happened!"
"No, it's fine," I croaked, patting her awkwardly on her back. "It's not your fault. This was bound to happen anyway. I've held my tongue too long." I inhaled deeply and stood up. "Besides, it'll be ok," I said with forced cheer. "I'm not some prissy little thing. I can handle whatever they throw at me."
She just stared at me worriedly.
I bit my lip. "Is it that bad?"
"Well, I don't really know," she admitted. "I mean, I ran out here after you as fast as I can, but the party's definitely over, that's for sure."
We both looked at the house, and sure enough, people were starting to stream through the doors.
"Get in the car, I'll drive you home," Venice said.
I quickly made my way around the car and slammed the door shut. I had barely put on my seatbelt before we were already halfway down the road.
"Thanks, V," I said gratefully, leaning my head on the headrest. "You're the best."
"Hey, what are friends for?"
When we pulled up in front of my house, she gave me another hug.
"Listen, just know I'll always have your back, ok?" she whispered. "Whatever happens Monday, I won't give up on you."
I smiled for real this time, feeling unbearably touched. As I got out, she added, "And Maya?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm really proud of you tonight. I wish had the courage to do what you did."
As I lay in my bed that night, her words echoed through my mind, strengthening my resolve to not to bow down to Roman or any of the other Scions anymore. To hell with what they'll do to me—whatever that may be.
In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced I'd done the right thing. My parents had always raised me to stand up for what I believe in and to not let others push me around; it was about time I made them proud. Besides, I comforted myself with the thought Roman Fiori and his ilk would get what they deserved sooner or later.
I drifted off into a light, fitful sleep.
CHAPTER 4
"That's four games in a row!" Zack crowed, raising his arms triumphantly in the air and nearly jabbing Parker in the eye with the pool stick he was still holding in his hand. "Who's the man?"
"Whatever, Perry," Parker said, tossing his golden brown hair out of his eyes. "I guess you're paying me back for what? The Six thousand times I've beaten you before?"
"Yeah, right," Zack retorted, his spirits not seeming the least bit dampened by Parker's reminder that he usually was not the Michael Jordan of pool, to say the least. "You're just mad because you owe me your custom Rolex."
Parker laughed. "Dude, I don't care about the Rolex. I have a dozen of those things. My grandparents send me one every Christmas."
"Still." Zack set his pool stick on the ground and leaned his weight against it, glancing at the opposite end of the lounge. Carlo was lounging on the couch, deeply engrossed in Grapes of Wrath, his favorite book. Roman was standing in front of the dartboard, where a cluster of darts neatly punctuated the center. There were so many they spilled out of the bull's eye and into the surrounding ring.
Zack couldn't see Roman's face, but he was pretty sure there was an angry scowl on it.
Like anything else is new.
"Hey, Rome, you wanna play? We can do doubles," he called out hopefully.