Chapter 10: Roxie
I am not even remotely sorry for crushing Ricky’s foot. Honestly, the dork had it coming the second he decided to lean his greasy personal space against my car. I also wasn't buying that whole "new band" story for a single second. Please. The guy eats alone at a cafeteria table every day; even the literal losers and the "art freaks" don't seem to want to be associated with him. He’s a social ghost with bad eyeliner. If I could turn back time, I would shift into gear and do it all over again, maybe with a little more gas this time.
"Rox, seriously, you shouldn't have done that to the new guy," Catherine said, her voice full of that annoying moral superiority she gets sometimes.
I ignored her, frantically scanning through my collection of CDs. I needed my favorite Backstreet Boys album to drown out the sound of my own thoughts, but it was nowhere to be found. "He was being annoying, Catherine," I said, only half-listening as I tossed a stray jewel case onto my bed. "In this world, annoying people get their toes flattened. It’s basic natural selection."
"You can't just run over people's feet because they’re irritating; it's a lawsuit waiting to happen," she countered, crossing her arms.
"He's too stupid to think that far ahead," I muttered. "He’s probably still at the nurse's office trying to figure out how to tie his own shoes."
"His parents could sue you, though," Catherine insisted. "Everyone knows your family is rich, Rox. You’re a walking target for a personal injury claim."
"Cat is right, you really need to take a chill pill," Fran chimed in from where she was lounging on my vanity chair.
I snorted, finally looking up from my music search. "A 'chill pill'? Did we suddenly teleport back to 1998? Who even says that anymore?"
"People who think you’re acting like a maniac, that’s who," Fran retorted. "You need a chill pill, and a major one at that. You’ve been on a warpath since he showed up."
"That is so untrue. I am perfectly calm," I lied, my heart doing a weird little kick-start at the mere mention of him.
"Really? Then why do you hate the Henderson kid so much?" Fran asked, leaning forward. "He hasn't actually done anything to you except exist in your general vicinity."
"Fran, he's just... he's the worst. He’s so annoying, and that van is an eyesore, and his face just makes me want to hit things," I snapped, rolling my eyes as I stood up and paced across my room.
"As you've stated... many times. We get it, you think he’s a loser," Fran said, her eyes wide with a look that suggested she didn't believe a word I was saying.
"If someone didn't know any better, they'd think you actually had a thing for him," Ember snorted, letting out a soft, airy laugh that made me want to scream.
"I do not!" I argued, my face heating up in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the temperature of the room. "That is the most disgusting thing anyone has ever said in this house, and I’ve heard Fran talk about her dental appointments."
"Then why do you talk about him so much?" Catherine asked softly, her eyes searching mine. "I mean, every conversation we’ve had today has circled back to Ricky. If you hate him so much, why is he living rent-free in your head?"
"Because I need to vent! I'm upset that he thinks he can just barge into our school and act like he's someone important," I answered, my voice rising. "I'm just venting. That’s all. I’m upset because he’s a disruption to my very organized, very perfect senior year. There is zero attraction. None. Zip. Now can we please find my CD before I lose my mind?"