Stealing Bradford

“Because Conner obviously has a problem with me,” she whispered.

Then Eliza sort of nodded. “Now that you mention it, I did notice that you two seemed to be at odds last night.”

Taylor laughed loudly. “At odds? Don’t you get it, Eliza? Conner just isn’t into DJ anymore. Isn’t that obvious?”

Naturally, Taylor made this flattering statement when the guys were close enough to overhear her. Humiliated once again by Taylor, DJ looked down at her barely touched, calorie-laden cheeseburger and fries, which suddenly looked totally unappetizing. But that might’ve had to do with the rock that she felt lodged in her stomach just then. So, scooping up her Hermès bag and unfinished soda, she quickly stood. “Excuse me,” she said, without looking up. She didn’t want to see Conner’s face. Face burning, she turned and walked straight toward the door. Look who was running now.

3

DJ FELT EVEN MORE FOOLISH after she got outside. What was wrong with her anyway? Why did she let Taylor get the best of her again and again? So what if Conner didn’t like her. She didn’t have to let the whole world know that she cared. DJ kept walking until she reached the girls’ locker room. She had no idea why she went there. Maybe it was one of the few places in school where she’d felt comfortable last year—almost at home. Stinky sweat socks and all. She stood in front of a sink in the bathroom and just stared at herself in the mirror. Despite the lightened hair and haircut, touch of makeup and expensive clothes, DJ knew that the same girl lived underneath. The same insecurities, same fears, same worries. Despite the pretty veneer, DJ was just the same as always.

Or perhaps not exactly the same. Suddenly she remembered that she had changed last night…she had given her life to God. But if that was real, if that was true, why did she feel so miserable right now? Shouldn’t life be going a little more smoothly? Or maybe she just needed to be patient. She took in a long deep breath, said a little prayer, and then went back out. Then just as she was walking through a breezeway that went around the west side of the gym, she heard girls’ voices, loud and angry. DJ paused at the corner and just listened.

“You are such a loser,” said one.

“What a total freak.”

“What makes you think anyone wants you here?”

“What makes you think I care?” DJ recognized this voice—it belonged to Casey.

“You better care, loser. We can make you care.”

DJ stepped around the corner in time to see three girls surrounding Casey. These weren’t mean girls like Tina and Madison, the kind who try to look good, but say cruel things and simply walk away. These were the tough kind of girls who dwelled somewhere low on the high-school food chain, the kind who thought physical violence was an acceptable form of social interaction. DJ had actually wondered if Casey might’ve tried to fit into their group, although that didn’t appear to be the case here—unless this was some kind of creepy initiation.

She quietly approached them now, wondering what she could possibly do to deter them. The thug girls’ backs were to her and Casey’s back was up against the wall. And, although her expression was fierce, her eyes looked frightened. And that’s when DJ felt a chill of fear shoot through her as well. No way did she want to end up in a street brawl with these girls, or anyone else for that matter. Not only would it be painful, it would be extremely humiliating. It was one thing to get beat on the tennis courts, but it was something altogether different to get beat up behind the gym.

She swallowed hard and pulled out her cell phone, opened it up, and pretended to be in the midst of a conversation. “Yeah, I’m out on the west side of the gym right now,” she said loudly, and the girls all turned around to see her. “It looks like my friend Casey Atwood is about to get beat up—yes, right now, even as we speak, Mrs. Seibert. There are three girls…no, I don’t know their names, but hang on, I can take their photos. That should be solid evidence.”

Then, as the girls stared at her with surprised expressions, she directed her phone at them and pretended to snap their pictures. Of course, she still had the cheapy phone that her stepmom had “splurged” on for her last year. Naturally, it wasn’t equipped with an actual camera, but what these girls didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. She put the phone back by her ear. “Yes, they’re still here…no, they haven’t hurt her yet, but you better send help now or this school is going to have a lawsuit on its hands.”