We were nothing.
“But—”
I stepped up to her, the hitch of her breath barely affecting the ice around my heart. “Get the fuck out of my way,” I hissed, “and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of it.”
Chapter Two
Miley
Avery shouldered past me, taking off down the hall as if he couldn’t stand to be around me a second longer.
I didn’t blame him.
I’d really messed up junior year. At the beginning of the semester, Mr. Jones had informed the three junior reporters that he wanted us to compete for the head editor’s position. I’d wanted it. I’d wanted it so freaking bad. I knew I’d need to break a story that got attention. I just hadn’t anticipated it would break my heart too.
I let out a resigned sigh and moved down the hall to my locker. A couple of cheerleaders shot me a death glare.
I hadn’t only pissed off the football players.
At the time, I’d been laser focused on my end goal—becoming head editor this year. Nothing else had mattered… until it did.
I’d never been a football fan. I loved words: literature and books. I loved using the power of language to express myself. I didn’t have time for team sports, not when I had my hopes set on Northwestern. You needed to give your all to academia, to hone your craft and develop your voice as a writer.
And the exposé on the truth about football players and the preferential treatment they received had won me the position. But it came at a cost.
One I hadn’t anticipated.
Once I’d added some books to my locker, I hitched my bag up my shoulder and headed for class.
The second I stepped inside the room though, I internally winced. Micah Delfine and Ben Chasterly were in this class. And they were in the thick of a group of cheerleaders.
Just what I didn’t need.
“Miss Fuller, don’t make me wait all day,” the teacher said. “Find a seat.”
“Sorry, sir.” I hurried to an empty chair over by the window.
“Snitch bitch.” Someone coughed, but the words rang out clear.
I sucked in a ragged breath, trying not to let their taunts and jibes hurt. I deserved it, mostly. I guess I just thought summer vacation would make people forget.
But no one forgot in a place like Rixon. Especially, where their beloved football team was involved. Because Rixon wasn’t just any town; it was a football town, and the Rixon Raiders was one of the best teams in state.
And I was the girl who went against them for her own gain.
By the time class was over, I was more than ready to get out of there. The constant whispers and notes had been insufferable. It was a new year, a new semester, but nobody had forgotten about the girl who infiltrated the cheerleading squad to get close to the football team and write an undercover article for the school newspaper.
I’d joined the stream of kids leaving the room, when someone yanked me back. “Watch it, bitch,” Kendall Novak said as she shouldered past me, her girlfriends all following in her footsteps.
I’d never been a popular kid. I’d never sat with the cool kids at lunch or been invited to the best parties, but I’d never been so ostracized by my peers before. You only have yourself to blame.
I couldn’t take back what I’d done. I couldn’t even regret it. It had stood out against the competition and landed me the head editor’s position.
I’d got what I wanted… hadn’t I?
At least I didn’t have to spend the next hour listening to my classmates seriously low opinions of me. I had a free period and there was one place I wanted to be.
The second I walked into the Rixon Riot HQ—also known as a small room next to the library—I felt a calm wash over me. This was my calling, my safe space. Behind these doors, nothing my peers said about me could touch me.
“Morning, Mil,” Dexter Palmer, my second-in-command, smiled. “How was the jungle this morning?”
“I survived.” Barely.
“Well, Jones is in his office and he wants to talk.” His brows went up.
I dumped my bag and grabbed a notebook and pen. “Guess I’d better go see what he wants.”
Making my way over to the office in the corner of the room, I knocked twice.
“Come in,” Mr. Jones called, and I slipped inside. “Miley, welcome back.”
“Thanks, sir.”
He motioned to the empty seat and I sat down. “Senior year, are you ready?”
“I think so.”
“Good, I’m excited to see what you’ll bring to the role this year.” He ran his eyes over the computer screen. “I have your first project.”
“You do?” A lick of excitement trickled through me.
“Coach Ford would like you to shadow the team this semester and—”
“I’m sorry, what?” The excitement turned to ice.
“Hear me out.” Mr. Jones sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “The article was a big success and has already raised some interesting points that Principal Kiln plans to take to the school board, but it also ruffled a lot of feathers.”
“That was kind of the point, sir.” Like many schools, Rixon High had a history of giving its athletes preferential treatment.
“I know, and you know I support most of the points you raised in your piece. But with these kinds of exposés there is always a backlash. And it’s a big season for the team. Coach Ford would like you to shadow one of their star players to understand the pressure they’re under.”
“You’re serious?”
“I am.” His brows knitted. “And so is Principal Kiln.”
“So I don’t have a choice?”
“This is a great opportunity, Miley. As investigative journalists we have to be prepared to look at all sides of the story. I know you can do this.”
“The team won’t want me hanging around.”
They hated me.
“Well, it isn’t their call to make. Coach Ford wants this piece to happen. He’ll make sure his players fall in line.”
“Great.” Sarcasm coated my voice.
“I’m sure you’ll
