The Charlotte Chronicles by Jen Frederick Page B

for days.
    But I’m pretty much worthless through most of my classes, so when Greta comes up to me during lunch and asks me about the previous night I just stare at her blankly. Unfortunately, my pause only causes her to raise her voice.
    “So you and Charlotte last night?” And the tone of her voice is so loud that everyone in a ten-foot radius stops eating. Her hand spins a milk carton around. I remember Charlotte telling me that Greta is always in motion, or some part of her is.
    “Shut up, Greta.” Nick’s on her before I can clear the cobwebs, and I throw him a thankful glance. He silently tells me to nut up and get with the program before Greta announces to the whole school that Charlotte and I are screwing.
    “What’s the matter, was it bad?” Greta asks in a mock whisper. I say mock because it’s still loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. A collective hush settles over the table.
    I tilt my head and just look at her, trying hard to remember my dad’s admonishments to respect every woman who comes into my orbit. Of course, if Dad heard this chick talking about Charlotte like this, he might change his mind. “I don’t know why you think I’d answer any question of yours about my personal life.”
    Greta proves herself to be one dumb bitch when, instead of leaning back or just leaving, she presses on. “Um, because I gave her the condom she asked for so she could  do  you.” Her lips frame the last two words in a big oval. She probably thinks this is a sexy look, but it reminds me a fish. “I told her that I didn’t think her frail little body could handle a big boy like you.” She winks. “But you probably did her out of sympathy. Let me know if you want a different kind of ride.”
    The milk carton is still spinning in circles. I take my fist and crush the carton and milk spurts all over the table, some of it catching Greta right in her fish lips.
    “I don’t even know who you are,” I tell her. With a jerk of my head, I head out knowing Nick is right behind me. And behind him are the rest of the guys from my table. We’re all jocks, but this is Nick’s crew even though he’s a sophomore because he’s the guy with the golden arm. I’m the   reluctant, couldn’t-care-less player who can’t wait to graduate and do real fucking things, so I let Nick lay down the law to the crew as I stand behind him, arms crossed, feet planted wide like a looming, angry asshole. Which is exactly how I feel at the moment.
    “You asswipes say one word about Charlotte that is remotely sexual and Nate and I will give you a beating that will have you shitting out your piehole.”
    “No worries, dude.” Kenny claps Nick on the back. “We got your girl’s back.” He gives me a nod and glides down the hallway. One by one they pat Nick on the shoulder and give their promise to keep it locked down.
    Nick’s eyes turn to me with fury in them. “What the hell is up with that bitch?”
    “No idea,” I say. “Charlotte knows her through gymnastics.”
    “You gonna talk with her?”
    I glance back at the door. “No. She wants the attention. Best way to teach her a lesson is to make sure she gets none.”
    Nick nods, and we separate to head to our next classrooms. Good thing Charlotte isn’t coming back to North Prep until next fall. Hopefully she’ll have better taste in friends when she gets back.
    By the end of the day it’s clear that what started at lunch has spread like a venereal disease throughout the entire school. Guys are smirking at me, and girls are looking speculative. No one but Sinclair Pennington has the guts to talk to me. Sinclair’s a sophomore and has had a few classes with Charlotte, but I never knew that they were friends.
    She stops me after last period before I’m headed home. Nick is waiting for me by the exit doors—and by waiting, I mean he’s got one hand on some random’s ass while his head is buried in her neck. I can’t tell from this