Stealing Bradford

“GOOD GAME,” SAID TAYLOR. Then she reached over to give DJ a high five. DJ tried not to look too stunned as Taylor slapped her palm. They were walking back to the gym after an energetic soccer match that Mrs. Pandretti had called an icebreaker. As usual, Taylor had shone. But now that they were finished, she didn’t even look sweaty. How was that even possible?

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re good in soccer,” admitted DJ. “So far I haven’t seen anything you’re not good at.” Well, except for being nice, she thought, but had the good sense not to say out loud.

“Well, thanks,” said Taylor. “I take that as high praise coming from you.”

DJ frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re a pretty good athlete yourself.”

Okay, had DJ just been zapped into the Twilight Zone? Had Taylor really given her a compliment? Or was this actually some kind of setup? “Thanks,” muttered DJ, preparing herself for Taylor to jerk the rug out from under her.

“I know I give you a bad time about smelling like sweat socks and all that, but I used to do sports too.”

“Really?” DJ turned to study Taylor more closely as they walked. Was this girl up to something?

“Yeah, but then I sort of outgrew sports…or maybe I just grew into boys.”

“I don’t see why you can’t enjoy both,” said DJ.

Taylor shrugged as she removed the barrette that had been keeping her mane of dark curly hair back, giving her head a shake and fluffing her hair with her fingers so that it looked almost perfect. “Maybe some girls can.” Okay, there was definitely a jab in that statement, even if it was a small one.

“Well, I wouldn’t ever give up something that I loved doing just for a guy,” said DJ with heartfelt conviction.

“Neither would I,” said Taylor. “But I suppose that I just don’t love sports as much as you do.”

“What do you love?” asked DJ as they entered the locker room.

Taylor laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Well, maybe it was only baby steps, but DJ thought perhaps she’d made some kind of headway with this strange girl. At least she hadn’t been publicly humiliated again. Even so, DJ knew she needed to keep watching her backside when it came to Taylor. She might be acting civilized right now, but there was still a wild animal beneath that perfect veneer. And those claws were sharp.

“Why aren’t you getting dressed?” asked Taylor as DJ sat on the bench mulling these things over.

“Volleyball,” said DJ.

Taylor rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, I almost forgot.”

“I bet you’re good at that too,” said DJ.

Taylor gave her a look that was noncommittal, but DJ sensed the confidence beneath it.

“Oh, crap,” said DJ, slapping her forehead.

“What?” asked Taylor as she buttoned her shirt.

“I forgot to call my grandma about a ride.” DJ went to her locker for her phone.

“Isn’t she picking you guys up?”

DJ shrugged. “I hope so…I mean for Casey and Rhiannon’s sake. But I’ll be staying late anyway so it doesn’t affect me much.”

“How will you get home?”

“My feet, I guess.”

“Right…” Taylor’s tone contained a smidgeon of disgust. “Doesn’t it embarrass you to walk home from school?”

DJ shook her head as she dialed her grandmother’s number. “Not as much as certain other things embarrass me.” She gave Taylor an accusing look as she listened to the phone ringing. But Taylor returned that look with one of innocence. Yeah, whatever, thought DJ.

“Carter House,” said Inez. Then DJ asked about Mrs. Carter and was informed that her grandmother was napping, which could mean anything from sneaking a martini to watching soaps.

“But Rhiannon and Casey need a ride home,” she complained.

“Sorry, looks like they’ll need to walk.”

“Fine.” DJ closed her phone and turned to Taylor. “If you see Rhiannon or Casey, will you let them know they’ll need to walk home?”

“Sure,” said Taylor lightly. “If I see them.”

DJ could tell this if meant that she wouldn’t try to see them. Probably she would try to avoid them. DJ wouldn’t be surprised.

“See ya back at the ranch,” said Taylor as she slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder. DJ just stared at her now. “What’s the matter?” asked Taylor with concern.

“Nothing.”

“Seriously, do I have something in my teeth?” Taylor whipped open her bag and removed her compact, opened it up, and examined her reflection then shrugged. “Everything seems perfectly fine to me.”

“Yeah,” said DJ. “That’s just what I was thinking too. I don’t know how you do it.”

Taylor smiled now. Okay, it was a catty little smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Practice, DJ. It just takes practice.” Then she snapped her compact closed, dropped it into her bag, and clicked away in her Kate Spade sandals. DJ only knew the designer name because she’d overheard another girl complimenting them, and Taylor had mentioned the name. Rather, dropped the name. It seemed that was what designer labels were best for—name-dropping.