Free Web NovelChapter 28: Chapter 28 - A Drink
By Monday morning, Roxie Jones was smiling again.
It had taken concealer, dry shampoo, and two days of acting like the house did not still feel wrong.
Briarwick liked girls who looked effortless.
So Roxie gave them effortless.
Her waist-long red hair was curled at the ends. Her lip gloss was clean. Her cream dress had tiny blue flowers, a fitted waist, and the kind of soft, old-fashioned cut that made people assume it came from somewhere expensive.
It had cost one dollar.
One dollar from the last-chance bin at the thrift store near Maple Street, buried under faded church skirts and a Halloween shirt with cracked glitter letters.
Roxie had fixed the loose button herself.
Briarwick did not need to know that.
A sophomore cheerleader slowed near Roxie’s locker, eyes dropping to the dress. "Wait, where did you get that?"
Roxie smiled.
"It’s vintage."
The girl’s mouth opened a little. "Seriously?"
"Mm-hm."
Angela appeared beside Roxie with her books hugged to her chest. "I hate you. I’ve been asking you for years to go shopping together."
Roxie looked her over. "We did once. You took a whole day for a bracelet."
Karen came up behind them and laughed. "She’s right. You’re annoying to shop with."
Angela gasped. "You’re both evil."
"You love us," Roxie said.
"I love cheer. You two came with the package."
They started down the hallway together, and the usual Monday traffic bent around them.
One cheerleader walking alone was just a girl in lip gloss.
Three together became something people noticed.
Add the rest of the squad filtering in from the side hall, and suddenly locker doors closed slower. Boys leaned back from the water fountain. A freshman pretending to tie his shoe stayed crouched too long.
The cheerleaders filled the hallway.
Roxie kept her chin high and her smile easy.
Kendall stepped out from the side hall like she had been waiting for the right angle.
She had Marissa and Tori with her, naturally. Her ponytail was high, her makeup soft, her expression already too pleased for someone who had not even said anything yet.
Her eyes dropped to Roxie’s dress.
Then to Roxie’s face.
"What?" Roxie asked.
Kendall grinned.
She enjoyed that. The fact that Roxie sounded irritated before Kendall even opened her mouth.
"Nothing," Kendall said. "You’re very pretty today."
"Natural."
Karen coughed into her hand.
Angela looked away.
Kendall’s smile sharpened. "Anyway, Coach Miller said his faculty meeting might run late, so we’re starting warm-ups at the stadium after school."
"I know."
Kendall blinked once. "You know?"
"I read the message."
"It was sent this morning."
"And yet."
One of Kendall’s girls glanced down at her phone like she wanted to confirm that information could be read without Kendall announcing it first.
Kendall’s gaze dropped again to the dress. "Cute."
Roxie did not like the way she said it.
"Thanks."
Kendall reached out and touched the sleeve before Roxie could move. freewёbnoνel.com
It was quick. Light. Barely anything.
Roxie still wanted to slap her hand away.
"This is actually from a line a few years ago," Kendall said, fingers brushing the fabric. "So it’s not vintage."
The girls around them quieted in that awful hallway way, where nobody fully stopped moving but everyone listened harder.
Angela’s eyes flicked to Roxie.
Karen’s smile disappeared.
Roxie looked down at Kendall’s hand on her sleeve.
Then she looked back up.
"Vintage styling," Roxie said.
Kendall tilted her head. "Really?"
"It’s what I meant." Roxie smiled, easy and sharp. "Actual vintage is about age. Vintage styling is about the cut, the print, the shape. This dress borrows from older silhouettes. The neckline, the flower scale, the length."
Someone near the lockers whispered, "And you rock it, Captain."
Roxie kept smiling.
Most people did not need proof. They needed confidence said in a pretty voice.
Kendall’s eyes narrowed.
Roxie added, "But I get why you got confused."
Karen made a tiny choking sound.
Angela pressed her lips together.
Kendall finally dropped Roxie’s sleeve.
For a second, her gaze dipped toward the hem, then the side seam near Roxie’s hip.
The seam Roxie had fixed herself.
"That’s interesting," Kendall said.
Roxie lifted her chin. "Most things are when you understand them."
Kendall watched her for another beat, then stepped back. "See you at the stadium, Captain."
She turned and walked away with her girls, ponytail swinging, leaving just enough silence behind her to make people wonder what they had missed.
Lacey stared after Kendall. "Is she always like that?"
Karen scoffed. "That was her being polite."
A few of the cheerleaders laughed, but the sound faded fast when the first bell rang.
The hallway broke apart.
Girls peeled off toward English, history, math, wherever their schedules dragged them. A sophomore waved at Roxie before hurrying down the stairs. Two juniors called goodbye to Angela. Someone asked Karen if she had extra mascara, and Karen shouted, "After lunch," like she ran a beauty counter out of her locker.
Roxie adjusted the strap of her bag and started toward the science wing.
Angela and Karen fell into step beside her.
Roxie adjusted the strap of her bag and started toward the science wing.
They turned into the science hall, where the floors smelled like cleaner and the walls were covered with outdated safety posters nobody read unless they were avoiding eye contact.
Mr. Callahan’s room was already half full when they arrived.
Angela slid into the seat in front of Roxie. Karen dropped into the one beside her with a dramatic sigh.
Roxie took her usual seat and set her books down.
Her fingers brushed the side seam of her dress again.
Then the classroom door opened wider, and the room reacted before Roxie looked up.
A laugh cut off near the back. A girl in the second row glanced toward the door, then down at her phone. Someone whispered, "Prescott."
Roxie kept writing.
Zac entered with his backpack over one shoulder and a drink carrier in one hand, looking at her directly.
Fantastic.
He walked down the aisle like he belonged anywhere he decided to stand. A few boys greeted him. Someone slapped his arm. He barely reacted.
He stopped in front of Roxie’s table.
She kept looking at her notebook.
He stayed there.
Roxie finished writing the date with more pressure than necessary.
Zac still did not move.
She lifted her eyes. "Are you lost?"
He set a plastic cup on her desk.
Whipped cream. Caramel drizzle. Some ridiculous fall-colored drink with a tiny sticker on the side and condensation already sliding down the cup.
Roxie froze.
For one stupid second, her first thought was that he knew.
The dress. The one-dollar bin. The electricity. The gas station. The coins on the counter.
Pity hit faster than sense.
Her face went still.
"What is this?" she asked.
Zac leaned one hand against the edge of her desk. "A drink."
"I can see that."
"Then why did you ask?"
Her fingers stayed in her lap. She did not touch the cup.
She had bought drinks like that before, but only when she needed the cup. A study group. A school event. A hallway morning where everyone else had something iced and expensive in their hands, and Roxie needed to look like she belonged in the same picture.
She never bought the large ones.
Kendall’s eyes flashed in her head, dropping to the seam of her dress.
Roxie’s stomach tightened.
"I didn’t ask you for anything," she said.
Zac’s face changed a little. "I know."
"So why are you giving me that?"
"Because I’m still pissed at you."
Roxie blinked.
That answer was so stupid her brain almost tripped over it.
"You’re pissed at me, so you brought me a drink?"
"It’s pumpkin something. I don’t know. The girl at the counter said it was popular."
Roxie stared at him.
He stared back like this made complete sense.
"And this is your revenge?"
His mouth curved, but his eyes stayed sharp. "No. This is me being nice while mad."
"Terrifying."
"I’m serious."
"So am I. I’m deeply scared."
A few students nearby had gone quiet enough to listen while pretending to organize pencils.
Zac noticed. His jaw tightened, then he leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"We’re still friends."
Roxie’s chest did something annoying.
She looked at the drink instead. "Are we?"
His eyes narrowed. "Of course, even if you that."
Roxie’s fingers curled under the table. "You mean when I said no to the party?"
"And because of that stunt you pulled, you owe me one."
Roxie’s head snapped up. "Why the fuck do I owe you?"
A chair squeaked somewhere behind them.
Zac’s mouth twitched like he knew he should not enjoy her reaction and did anyway. "Because I had half the team asking why the cheer captain rejected me after a win."
"I did not reject you."
"Not what it looked like from afar."
Roxie leaned back in her chair, irritated by his face, his drink, and the fact that the cup looked cold and sweet and exactly like something she would have liked if she could stop being suspicious for three seconds.
"You are impossible," she said.
"Still friends, though."
She hated how easy he made that sound.
Like he had not stood in front of the whole field Friday night with his helmet in his hand and anger all over his face because she chose the safest option and made it look like she chose against him.
The classroom door opened wider.
Mr. Callahan walked in with a stack of papers under one arm and a mug in his hand. He stopped when he saw Zac standing in front of Roxie’s desk.
His eyebrows lifted.
Zac straightened.
Mr. Callahan looked from Zac to Roxie. "Should I ask?"
"No," Roxie said.
Zac said, "If you insist."
A few people laughed.
Mr. Callahan sighed like he had already aged three years before first period. "Prescott, sit down before I start charging rent for that spot."
Zac backed away from Roxie’s desk, still looking at her. "Drink it before it melts."
He walked back to his seat.
Roxie stared at Mr. Callahan as he started writing on the board.
Chemical reactions.
Reaction rates.
Something about catalysts.
She copied everything while her mind churned of Zac. The drink sat on her desk, cold and bright and expensive-looking.
She scratched out a crooked line in her notebook.
Across the room, someone laughed quietly.
Roxie looked back.
Zac was staring at her.
Not pretending to listen.
Not even trying.
His elbow rested on the desk, pencil loose in his hand, eyes fixed on her like Mr. Callahan could set the room on fire and he would still wait to see if she drank it.
Roxie held his stare.
Then, slowly, she reached for the cup.
Zac’s mouth curved.
Roxie lifted the drink, took one small sip, and looked away first.
It was unfairly good.
She wrote the next heading with her face hot and her pride in critical condition.
