The Queen B* and the Homecoming King Read online

  Kelsey Buchannan was extremely vocal about her conservative Christian values and had more than once condemned gay rights in her debate arguments. “Kelsey can go screw herself.”

  “At least she could still technically claim to be a virgin if she did,” Richard snickered. “I already know she’ll vote against letting me on the team.”

  “But Ajay will remember you coming to his defense, so hopefully, he’ll balance out Kelsey.” He’d been the victim of Sanchez’s bullying last week, and Richard had rushed in to intervene.

  “He’s so cute with his little bow ties.” Richard let his game face drop long enough to release a dreamy sigh. “But you’re right. He might be on my side.”

  “So let your debate skills do the rest.” I paused long enough to let him order his lunch and studied his outfit. His faded blue jeans and boy band T-shirt hardly proclaimed him to be debate team material. “And if you want, I can swing by your house and grab a change of clothes for you.”

  “You would? Oh, thank you!” He then gave me precise directions on where to find the items he needed. “If I’d known the tryouts were today, I would’ve been more prepared. The poster this morning was the first announcement I’ve seen.”

  “I suspect they probably emailed their inner circle last week.” It fit Kelsey’s M.O.

  “That’s fine because this dark horse is on it.” He puffed out his chest like a warrior preparing to charge into battle. “And I’m more than ready to earn my spot on the debate team.”

  I couldn’t agree more. I’d helped him prep a few times since school started, and his contributions to The Eastline Spy demonstrated his skill in delivering a solid argument. I knew he could take on anyone on the team.

  And if he didn’t make it, then I’d just found the next exposé for my blog.

  Chapter Two

  I spent the next hour and a half running over to Richard’s house and looking for the items he wanted in his bedroom. His grandmother was home, and although she barely spoke English, she seemed to understand when I explained that I was picking up clothes for Richard’s tryout. The mess inside could rival the one in Taylor’s room, but after sorting through the piles of clothes, I found all the articles of clothing he needed.

  Of course, the moment his grandmother saw them, she started going off in Chinese and wouldn’t let up until I handed the clothes to her. I followed her into the laundry room, where she ironed out all the wrinkles and pressed neat creases into the fabric. She slipped the clothing onto hangers and handed them to me. “Tell him kick ass,” she said with a grin.

  I almost busted out laughing. Richard’s grandmother may have been old school, but she seemed to have a good grasp on modern slang. “I certainly will.”

  I got to school just as the final period was letting out and found Richard by his locker. He grabbed the clothes. “You are an angel.”

  “Thank your grandmother. She wouldn’t let me leave until she pressed everything and made sure you’d look your best.” I also repeated her message.

  Richard snorted with laughter and took a small leather toiletry bag out of his locker. “Gotta love Grams. Give me a moment to change, and I’ll be ready.”

  A moment in Richard standard time is equivalent to a moment in Taylor standard time—approximately half an hour. I waited outside one of the boys’ restrooms, pretending to play a game on my phone while keeping my ears open for anything to use on my blog. One of the first things I noticed was that all the posters in the hallway were Vote for Summer! Was anyone running against her? And if not, was it because she’d threatened them if they did? I almost had the entire story idea ready to investigate when Richard emerged, looking like something straight out of GQ.

  I approved. “You know, if you dressed like that every day, you wouldn’t have to play the Token Gay Guy to put everyone at ease.”

  “I know, but it takes a lot of work to look this good, and I’d rather sleep than primp.” He ran his hands along the lapels of his navy blazer, straightened his blue-and-green striped tie, and smoothed his rock-hard gelled hair. “Do I look like a debate team member?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Doubt flickered across his face. “Can you stay during the tryout? It’d help if I saw a friendly face out there.”

  “Sure.” It wasn’t like I had tons of stuff to do this afternoon. What little bit of homework I had would be a snap to finish tonight, and my boyfriend was out on the field with his team, completely focused on how to beat Skylake on Friday. Besides, I might enjoy watching Richard wow everyone.

  The tryouts were being held in Ms. Rothstein’s classroom. As the debate team’s faculty sponsor, she sat at the center desk of the front row, flanked by Kelsey and Ajay. She shuffled through a stack of papers as about twenty students milled around the periphery of the room, all of them dressed as seriously as Richard.

  At least he’d blend in on the surface.

  But when he barely moved from the doorway, I gave him an impatient shove toward the sign-in sheet on Kelsey’s desk. He adjusted his tie one more time and approached her.

  Kelsey was the epitome of prep school fashion. A navy headband held back her perfectly coiffed blond hair, and an expertly matched cardigan complemented a knee-length plaid dress. Knee socks and Mary Janes completed the ensemble. But when Richard stepped in front of her, she wrinkled her nose as through he emitted some kind of foul stench. Which, of course, to someone like Kelsey, he did. “What are you doing here?” she asked with a sneer.

  “Trying out for the debate team.” He took a pen and added his name to the list, completely ignoring her reaction.

  “Just like you tried out for the cheerleading squad last year?”

  “That was for fun,” he replied with a flippant wave of his hand, slipping back into the flamboyant façade he used whenever he sensed hostility. “I’m actually serious about this.”

  “And what if we don’t want someone like you turning every debate into some kind of gay pride rally?”

  My temper snapped and I whipped out my phone, holding it out in front of me like a recorder. “As opposed to your consistent right-wing, conservative slant on every issue? Tell me, Kelsey, are you already discriminating against Richard because of his sexuality?”

  Even though I wasn’t actually recording anything, Kelsey didn’t need to know that. All she needed to know was that she was on my radar and the wrong thing could end up on my blog.

  She glanced down at my phone, leaning away from it, her chest rising and falling faster than before. “No, I didn’t say that.”

  “No, you just said you didn’t want someone ‘like’ Richard and then mentioned his sexuality.” I gave her one of my trademark Queen B* eat-shit-and-die grins. “I think it’s pretty obvious you’re discriminating against him because he’s gay, and I believe most of my readers will see it the same way.”

  Ms. Rothstein cleared her throat. “Alexis, I believe Kelsey misspoke. Richard is more than welcome to try out, and if his skills are of the appropriate caliber, then he might have a place on the team.”

  I didn’t miss the way Ajay squirmed in his seat and tugged on the bow tie he always wore to school, something that frequently made him the target of bullies like Sanchez. If Richard’s gay-dar was accurate, then the debate team co-captain’s discomfort stemmed from something more than just his accessories.

  Richard gave Ms. Rothstein a gracious smile. “Thank you.”

  Then he upped the wattage as he turned to Kelsey. “Prepare to be wowed.”

  Her expression contorted into a smirk. “This is the debate team, not a high school musical. If you want to wow someone, I suggest you try out for that.”

  “Sorry, but I don’t sing,” Richard said, nose in the air, but I saw the sweat beaded along his forehead.

  Kelsey dismissed him with a wave. I opened my mouth to challenge her again, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the back of the room. He wiped away the sweat with the back of his hand. “See? I told you she had it out for me.”r />
  “Yes, but you need to remember a couple of other things. One—she’s not the final say on who makes the team. Ajay and Ms. Rothstein also have a vote. Two—she’s right. This is serious business, and if you want to make the team, you just need to drop the act and be yourself. No more playing the part of the stereotype. I know you can carry on a debate without the sass, so prove it to them.”

  He nodded and jogged in place for a few seconds, shaking his limbs loose. “Drop the sass. Got it.”

  “I want them to see you as something more than just the Token Gay Guy. You’re Richard Wang, Debater Extraordinaire.”

  “Debater Extraordinaire.” He paused, one corner of his mouth quirked up. “I like the ring of that.”

  “Then earn it.” I sat down and pulled out my laptop. “I’ll just sit back here and work on my next blog post.”

  I didn’t miss the worried glance that Kelsey gave me over her shoulder. Good. Let her think my next exposé would be about her. Maybe she’d learn to keep anti-gay bias away from school-sponsored activities.

  Once it was time to get the tryouts under way, Ms. Rothstein stood and closed the door. “Good afternoon, everyone, and thank you for coming out to the debate team tryouts. For those of you who don’t know, Kelsey Buchannan and Ajay Patel are our co-captains this year, which means we have room for four more members and two alternates.”

  Six slots, which meant more than half the room wouldn’t make the team.

  “Of course, for those of you who don’t make the team roster this time, I’d like to remind you that the debate club is open to everyone in the spring,” Ms. Rothstein continued. “It’s a great way to hone your skills for next year’s team.”

  Ajay and Kelsey each produced a wire basket and handed them to the teacher.

  “The first thing we’re going to do is draw the order of debates. Since we have an even twenty here, I’ll have each of you draw a slip of paper from here.” She held out Kelsey’s basket. “On the paper, you’ll learn when you’ll go and what stance you’ll be taking on a topic—pro or con. Once we get that sorted out, then we’ll get to the actual debate topics.”

  Thankfully, Ajay’s basket contained the topics. I’d be scared to see what Kelsey would come up with.

  Richard filed into the line to draw the numbers and showed me his slip of paper. “10-Con. I guess that’s a good thing I’m going last. It’ll give me time to watch the competition.”

  “Exactly.” And seeing as how Richard had never been a member of the debate club, he needed all the help he could get on the rules of the debate.

  Ms. Rothstein carried Ajay’s basket back to her desk. “Tryouts will last all week. The pro side will choose the topic today, the con side tomorrow. We’ll redraw the order tomorrow, so each of you will have two chances to show us your skills. On Wednesday morning, I’ll post a list of who made the first cut. We’ll have the second round of tryouts the next day. The final team and two alternates will be announced on Friday. Any questions?”

  “Yeah—where’s my barf bag?” Richard whispered under his breath.

  “Breathe. You’re not up for at least another hour.”

  More like an hour and a half, but when Richard finally got his chance, he took his place at the Con podium and waited for his competitor to draw the topic.

  “Should the European Union allow sanctuary to migrants?” Richard’s opponent read aloud.

  Richard gripped the sides of the podium so tightly, his knuckles blanched. He had three minutes to come up with a good argument against it, even though it was probably something he was for. But once his opponent started his opening comments, Richard settled down and started making notes. By the time it was his turn to speak, he ripped his opponent’s arguments to shreds and left no doubt in my mind about the winner of that debate.

  Now, if only it was enough to convince the three people in the front row. They made a few notes before Ms. Rothstein stood again. “That’s it for today. Tomorrow, we’ll have a new set of topics for you, so get some rest and read up on current events.”

  Richard bounced over to me and gave me a high five. “Did I just kick that debate’s ass or what?”

  “Your grandmother would be proud at how well you picked him apart.” I slid my laptop back into my bag. “Want to grab a frozen yogurt to celebrate?”

  “Of course. I’m starving!” Richard gave Ajay a winning smile before running out into the hallway. “Meet up at the place on Eighth?”

  “Sure.” And if we didn’t like the scene there, we could go to the other fro-yo place a block away.

  We’d barely made it to the parking lot when my phone rang. I checked the screen and saw Morgan’s name. I showed it to Richard before answering and putting it on speakerphone. “Perfect timing. Richard and I—”

  “You. Fucking. Bitch,” she spat.

  If someone else had said that to me, I would’ve replied with something childish like, “I know I am, but what are you?” But Morgan was one of my best friends. I turned off the speaker and pressed the phone to my ear. “Morgan, what’s wrong?”

  Richard lingered nearby, leaning in to catch our conversation.

  “You are. I ran into Gavin today, and he told me all about Saturday night.”

  Oh, shit. As craptastic as Saturday night had been, Morgan’s anger added a whole new level of angst to it. “Let me explain—”

  “There’s nothing you can say,” she said, cutting me off, her voice shaking as though she were on the verge of tears. “You knew I liked him, and all this time, you were flirting with him behind my back.”

  “Me? Flirting with him?” More like the other way around, but I never got a chance to tell her that.

  “You went out with him, didn’t you?” My silence only confirmed Gavin’s story and unleashed a new wave of anger in Morgan. “I can’t believe you were such a back-stabbing bitch! And then, to come on to him so you could lure Brett into beating the crap out of him—”

  “Excuse me?” Oh, hell no. How dare Gavin twist what happened Saturday night into making him the victim? “That’s not what happened at all.”

  “Bullshit. Gavin has a black eye and two broken ribs because of Brett. Plus, your little show got him kicked out of his frat.”

  And for a good reason. Gavin tried to rape me when I was drunk. “Morgan, please, give me a chance—”

  “Why should I? You’re just going to tell me a bunch of lies anyway. Some friend you are. You weren’t content to have Brett chasing after you. You had to go after Gavin, too.”

  My stomach twisted into a dozen knots, and the frantic beating of my heart pounded in my ears. “Morgan—”

  But no matter how hard I tried, she wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise. “Go to hell, Alexis.”

  Then she hung up.

  Chapter Three

  Richard gently shook me from my daze. “Alexis?”

  I stared down at my phone as though I’d dreamed up the entire conversation. Images from Saturday night blazed through my mind at breakneck speeds. Gavin wrapping his arms around me, forcing me to the bed, ripping my shirt and fumbling with the zipper of my jeans, all while telling me I’d thank him for it when he was finished. My hand shook, and my phone slipped from my grasp.

  Richard managed to save it from shattering on the ground. “Sweetie, what’s wrong? What did Morgan say?”

  I started to say that I didn’t want to talk about it, but I knew I’d feel better once I unburdened my soul. Eastline, however, was not the place to do it. The last thing I wanted was for another student to hear the tale of my stupidity. It was something worthy of a post on my blog. “Just meet me at the fro-yo place.”

  I turned and ran for my car. The nauseated churning in my gut threatened to reject anything I put in it, but I could still talk to Richard while he scarfed down some frozen yogurt.

  We arrived at the same time to the thankfully empty shop. If there had been any Eastline students, I would’ve suggested going elsewhere before I spilled my guts. I grabb
ed a table in the corner while Richard grabbed some food. His bowl overflowed with four different types of yogurt, topped with everything from hot fudge to gummy bears. He dug in and ate a few spoonfuls before asking, “So what did Morgan say?”

  “She’s pissed off at me because I went out on a date with Gavin.”

  Richard choked on his yogurt and stabbed his spoon into the center of the chaotic mountain in his bowl. “You what?”

  If I wanted to keep Richard from thinking I’d completely lost my mind, I needed to tell him the whole story from the beginning. “It all started Friday night. I overheard Summer and Brett talking about me, and then she kissed him—”

  “So Summer and Brett were kissing Friday night? I thought it was all a rumor.”

  “Will you let me finish without interrupting?”

  “Fine. I’m all ears.” He stuffed a spoonful of his sundae in his mouth and waited.

  “She kissed him, not the other way around. But I immediately thought the worst, and the next day, I wanted to prove to him that he was so yesterday, and Gavin had been hitting on me for weeks and even wrote his number in one of my notebooks…” I paused and looked away, my conscience riddled with guilt. “So I called him up and agreed to go on a date with him.”

  “Isn’t there some sort of rule that you don’t go out with the guy your best friend is crushing on, especially since we know he’s a douchebag?”

  “Yeah, and I totally broke it, but in my defense, she’d said she was so over him.”

  “It was like two weeks ago.”

  “But she’d said she was done with him.”

  “Still not cool, and right now, I’m pissed on her behalf.” He ate another bite before continuing. “And then what happened?”

  “I went to a party at his frat house with the intention of just snapping a pic with him to forward to Brett, but then we started playing beer pong, and I got wasted, and the next thing I knew, we were up in his room, and he was trying to screw me.”

  Richard’s mouth turned as round as his eyes. “And did he?”