“Damn right.” He lifted his coffee cup and Leila toasted hers with his and took a sip. “So wait, this club. I digressed far too much. What’s the story?”
“I don’t quite know yet.” Leila shrugged, trying not to think of the mysterious, cute boy from Adam’s Café, with his messy, brown hair and sun-kissed skin that made him look like he’d just spent a long day the beach. “No one on the board”—she scowled—“which, by the way, stay off of. It’s anonymous.”
“Oh, I couldn’t help myself.” Jon chuckled. “And did I say your name on there? Clear the browser history when you use the downstairs computer next time. Life lesson.”
“Anyway, no one on the message board knew anything about it,” Leila continued. “Sarika thinks it’ll be good for me, though. I do too, I guess. I mean, those are my kind of people, just this time, IRL.”
“Earl?” Jon asked.
“No, I-R-L,” Leila said, rolling her eyes. “In real life. Come on, you aren’t that old, you know what that means.”
“Ah, yes,” Jon said, taking a sip from his coffee. “Well, I hope Earl is nice to you.”
Leila balled up a napkin, tossed it at Jon, and got up from the table.
“Time to get ready,” she said, pushing her chair in. “See you after school or whatever.”
“Tell Earl I said hi,” he said, lifting his newspaper up.
“Just stop,” Leila said, making her way down the hall towards the stairs.
V
“Remind me why we need lockers again?” Leila asked, fiddling with the combination code with one hand while fussing with her hair with the other. Her bike helmet was wedged under her arm, her small backpack on the hallway floor. “I mean really, its summer enrichment. Does anyone even have books?”
“If anyone needs a locker during all this, it’s you,” Sarika said with a smirk, before falling back and leaning against the locker next to her with loud pang. She pulled Leila’s helmet out from under her arm and held onto it.
“Thanks,” Leila said, her locker finally swinging open. There were a handful of leftover stickers all over the inside from whoever had it last. Leila scowled at the multicolored dolphins and kittens coated with rainbows and glitter. “Look at all this. It’s like a time machine. Lisa Frank is not my thing.”
“It looks like a unicorn threw up in here. Or maybe exploded and died,” Sarika said, eying up the inside of the locker. “We’ll have to redecorate, especially if you’re gonna show up looking like this every other day.”
“What’s wrong with this?” Leila asked, offended.
“You have helmet hair,” Sarika said flatly. “You’re a girl with a ’fro with helmet hair. All out to the side, like this, like you slept with a book on top of your head. Not acceptable.”
“Yeah I suppose you’re—hey!” Leila exclaimed, as someone slammed a shoulder into hers, sending her crashing against the door to her locker. Two girls about her age walked by laughing to one another, as a third trailed pensively behind. Leila spun around and glared at them just as they stopped.
“Oops, sorry,” a blonde girl with a white-and-black striped skirt and a makeup clutch under her arm said. “Didn’t see you there. Usually this one is all by herself. Finally make a friend? How cute.”
Leila turned to Sarika, who had backed against the locker, glowering at the three girls as they approached. Two were tall and blonde, and the one talking to them was clearly the alpha of the pack. The other, mousey with brown hair, smirked but stood back, as if she was a spectator to the whole thing. Leila locked eyes with her for a moment, and the girl turned away.
“Screw off, Jessica,” Sarika spat.
“Or what?” Jessica snapped back. “You’ll report me? This isn’t Central. No one here knows me. And I own this school.”
“Please. You were nobody there, and you’re a nobody here.” Sarika crossed her arms and stuck her chin up. Jessica took a threatening step forward, and Leila moved closer to Sarika, feeling her body tense as the blonde girl loomed over her.
It was Sarika’s first year at the group home all over again. Sarika, small, slim, her eyes wide and terrified; Leila, tall, strong, ready to tear down anyone who dared pick on her friend. Or, in the event she wasn’t around, avenging her when they picked on her without her watchful presence.
Only it wasn’t.
Sarika stared hard at Jessica as the tall girl, her eyes blue and cold, bore down on her. The girl Leila had grown up with, scared and reserved, who used to panic and hide behind her, was gone. Here she stood resolute, unafraid, unmoving.
Un-Sarika.
“What?” Sarika asked, a smirk on her face. “Come on. Do it.”
“Jessica,” said the mousy girl, who stood a few feet away clutching her books. “Jessica, come on, maybe we should—”
“Shut up, Gwen!” Jessica snapped, pointing a finger at the brown-haired girl, who promptly shrunk back and pressed herself against the lockers on the opposite side of the hall. Jessica glared at Sarika. “I should be at home basking in the sun by my pool. Instead, I’m stuck here with these two, and spending my summer in this hole because of you, you fucking Paki—”
Sarika swung the backpack on her shoulder, the fabric and books making an audible whoosh from the speed, and connected squarely with Jessica’s head.
“Sarika!” Leila shouted.
“Jessica!” Gwen and her still-unknown friend exclaimed.
Jessica hit the hallway floor with a bang, her makeup bag clattering across the tile, eyeshadow palettes and lipsticks skittering and clinking against the lockers. She rolled onto her back, stared up at Sarika and Leila with wide and horrified eyes, and wiped a streak of blood away from her nose. She looked down at her hand and back up at Sarika, and moved to stand up, her eyes now angry and fierce.
Sarika jumped on top of her and gripped Jessica’s wrists, pinning her to the ground.
“Say it again,” Sarika said, almost a whisper, but loud enough that Leila heard it over Jessica’s friends’ panicked muttering. Leila turned to look at them, and they promptly took a step back.
“SAY IT,” Sarika roared, her voice echoing in the still-empty hallway.
Jessica stared at Sarika, a line of blood trickling out her nose. The two of them breathed hard.
“You’re, you’re fucking crazy!” Jessica blubbered.
“Sarika?” Leila ventured, taking a step towards her friend, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go.”
“I didn’t think so,” Sarika spat, glaring at Jessica. She looked up at Leila, who hardly recognized her closest friend. Sarika’s thick eyebrows were furrowed angrily, she was breathing heavily, everything about her screamed rage. She got off Jessica, who promptly scurried off to her friends.
“I’ll get you for this,” Jessica said, pointing at Sarika angrily. “You’re lucky your new friend is here.” She stared at Leila.
“Damn, that’s enough, Jessica,” the unknown girl muttered. “Let’s go—”
“I say when it’s time to go, Rebekah,” Jessica said, glaring at her supposed friend. Who talked to their friends like this? “And new girl? Do yourself a favor. Pick up some of my makeup, and fix that fucking face of yours.”
Instinctively, Leila lifted a hand and pressed it against her own cheek. She felt heated all over, felt a warm defiance course through her body.
“It’s a birthmark,” Leila said, trying to control the rage she felt brewing up inside of her. It’d been bad enough getting this nonsense from other kids and teens in the group home and at school, but not from some girl who just got her ass kicked by her five-foot-two best friend.
“Well it looks like someone burned you,” she snapped, crossing her arms and looking her up and down.
“Didn’t you already learn your damn lesson?” Sarika shouted, moving to rush at the girls, who flinched back. Leila reached out and grabbed Sarika, throwing her arms around her into an awkward hug from the back.
“Come on, girl,” Leila whispered. “It isn’t worth it.”
“Hey!” someone shouted.