Page 73 of Dirty Chorus

“Sounds like you’re a little insecure.” It breaks off my tongue. His grip tightens, knuckles turning white before he slams the back of my skull into the thick bricks. The Rolling Stone posters on the wall blur in my vision. I’m down to thirty seconds as the smoke gets thicker.

“I’ve been with her a lot longer than you. She’s not getting over me anytime soon. She’ll come crawling back to me like she always does.”

“You think so?” I ask, my left hand moving under both of his arms. I have less than three seconds to make this work, or he’ll be able to keep his grip on me and I can kiss my front teeth goodbye. I widen my legs enough to build my frame like I’ve practiced hundreds of times. I step to the side to remove myself from the punch he throws. I grab my wrist to reinforce my frame, elbow high, and drive my body forward, using my core while rotating my shoulders to break his grip. His fists are broken off my shirt, and I’m able to step several feet away with my hands held out in defense.

Brody chuckles through his flaring nose. “Oh! What was that, some little fucking Asian moves? Don’t tell me. You’re from Chinatown?” he asks.

I throw open the fire extinguisher cabinet, yanking it out. I pull the pin, aim, squeeze the handle, and a whoosh of white chemical powder saturates the clothes he set on fire. “Well, aren’t you precious,” I say, gripping the extinguisher tightly and ready to bash it against his pretty Handsome Squidward face.

“I bet your dick doesn’t even fit in your hand,” Brody remarks.

“Such big words for someone who needs to bring in his bodyguards for a little man-to-man conversation.”

He scoffs and runs a thick hand down his face. Maybe it’s starting to click in that tiny brain of his. He can throw as many remarks at me as he wants. I don’t care what he thinks of me.

“A little birdie told me about your game tonight.” I place the fire extinguisher onto the glass case. “I’ll win her fair and square.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Brody stomps up to me, and I widen my feet and get back into a defensive stance. Brody halts, dips his head backwards, and chuckles. I swear I’m hearing the devil himself laughing at me, and my mouth goes dry.

“Fine, you wanna play Dirty Roulette, come play, but I always fucking win.” Brody places two fingers in his mouth and whistles. His teammates go silent, a bunch of brainless sheep following a shepherd to their inevitable death. “Bring drinks or you ain’t getting in.” He spits at my feet. “Let’s go,” he commands, and they exit. I tread behind them as they all leave the store. I wait for the car engines to rev to life.

Trucks and convertibles speed off, swerving as they pick up speed. Wheels squeal as Brody’s Camaro races down the street. Two of his friends hang outside the window. One of them banged fists against the door screaming, “Woo! Woo!” Another flips me the bird as the car races down the street, “See you tonight, faggot!”

Chapter 32

Charlie

“I’m serious, Charlie!” Ryder stalks me down the hallway before I slam the door shut. Not even two seconds later, he throws it back open, and it hits the twangy doorstop. He tosses his work shirt over his head before he points his finger at me. “You're staying home tonight. I’m not doing this shit with you.”

I leap onto my mattress, biting my tongue hard enough to puncture it. “You're seriously controlling!” I look over my shoulder as I pull out several thumbtacks from the wall. My cheerleading decorations are neatly organized in a pile on my mattress. I was packing up my room, but I made a big mistake. I snuck out of my room, being a scavenger of salt and vinegar chips in the pantry, and he spotted me like a cheetah. Now I’m in a heated argument with him.

“They are hazing kids tonight! You’re not going anywhere!” he shouts, with the muscles in his neck straining. God, he’s like a pulsating zit refusing to pop. He doesn’t know how to go away, and he’s annoying as hell.

“Okay, and what if I do go play?” I walk across my mattress and leap to the floor. I zip around the maze of boxes and packing tape and press my chest up against his. “You can’t tell me what to do.” I poke my nail into his sternum.

“You don’t get it! Once you play, you’re never leaving the game.”

I roll my eyes before turning on a heel. I snatch the packing tape, stomping over to a box filled with clothes.

“What are you going to do? Huh?” I ask as the sound of pulling tape fills the room. I tear it with my teeth before sealing up the box. “Are you going to act like a complete dickhead again, crash the party and beat up whoever I’m with, because I have plenty of those stories.”

“You don’t understand!” Everything in the room thickens, the tension between us wrapping around us like a vice.

“I’m not asking for your permission,” I say with a laugh.

“This isn’t funny! The guys there will take advantage of you.” His gaze softens, but the anger simmers just beneath the surface. “If you refuse, they will slip shit into your drink and get what they want. I know what this night entails, and you don’t.”

The pit in my chest feels like it’s swallowing me whole for a moment. I can’t breathe. The walls close in on me as if the room itself is pressing against my chest. “Ryder, it’s just a stupid game.” I attempt to sound nonchalant, but my pulse is skyrocketing, and I clench my fingers to control the trembling.

"Do you even hear yourself? This game isn’t a joke. It’s not a stupid college initiation. It’s a way for guys to get away with everything, to strip you down to nothing, and treat you exactly like that. Nothing but a piece of flesh.” He rakes his hands through his hair. “And you think it’s just a game?”

The lump in my throat grows larger, the words stuck between my teeth. I let out a deep breath as my own thoughts are starting to drown me. I don’t have a choice. Brody has a video of me blowing him. If that hits the cheer coaches’ inbox, or if it explodes on some porn site, I will be kicked from the team. I worked my ass off to get this scholarship and sponsored, but Brody’s grip is tighter than I imagined. Not only is there a subtle pinch of pain in my heart for what he did to me, but he has chains around my neck, pulling me down into the fiery pits of hell. A place I can’t claw my way out of.

“You’re my sister,” he continues, his voice thick with emotion. “I know you better than you think. If you go, then Payton is going too.”

My breath hitches in my chest, and I bite my bottom lip. Tears sting the back of my eyes, and each exhale from my lungs is shaky. It’s like I can’t fully let go of the tension coiling in my stomach, but I refuse to cry. I shake off the emotions, swallowing them up before a single tear emerges.

“So you have a thing for my best friend?” I ask.