Dead Girl

By Tessa Marie

If her mother wasn’t watching, Kylie Presby would punch Queen Bee, Natalie Silvers, in the face -again. But as Kylie wipes her tears away with the layers of toilet paper encasing her car, she knows she can’t retaliate like she did last time. Her dead mother wouldn’t approve. Kylie no longer cares about popularity. Invisible would work just fine.

Then the new kid, Braydon, mysterious, good looking and too clever for his own good, shows up and sacrifices his social status, becoming Kylie’s shield from the front line assault. After enough chocolate ice cream and movies it’s as if they’re best friends. Crazy, since Kylie knows so little about him.

As Natalie continues her relentless attacks on Kylie another person deals with his own line of bullies. Jack Stine was popular until his deepest secret was revealed and his friends abandoned him. Kylie and Jack bond over their tormentors and form an unbreakable friendship.

Three lost souls each with a story that binds them together, but will it be enough when the bullying goes too far and secrets are revealed?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Theresa Paolo
• Release date: Mar 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463022665

Tessa Marie

Tessa Marie lives on Long Island, NY with her fiancé and their fish. She is the author of NA and YA contemporary romances. Her debut novel (NEVER) AGAIN, released in Fall 2013 with Berkley (Penguin) and the companion novel (ONCE) AGAIN released Summer 2014.She has a hard time accepting the fact she's in her thirties and uses her characters to relive the best and worst years of her life. She put her love of writing on hold while she received her Bachelor's Degree in Marketing. When she's not writing, she's behind a camera, reading, watching Legacies, This is Us, American Idol, The Voice, or can be found on Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest and Facebook.Writes adult contemporary romance under her real name Theresa Paolo.

Book preview

Chapter 1

In my world it’s all about being seen. And Drew O’Malley’s parties are the equivalent to walking the red carpet on Oscar night.

So, even though I’m getting to the best part of the book I’m reading, I put it back on my night stand to get ready. My FaceTime rings, and I smile when I see my best friend Sam’s face pop up on the screen.

Please tell me you changed your mind, and you’re coming with me tonight, I say before she can even get a hello out.

You know if I had my choice, I’d choose you over spending my Friday night with my little brother.

I pout and then turn to my closet, grabbing my most recent purchase and toss it on my bed. I know. I just hate going to these things without you.

Sam runs her fingers through her red curls, pulling them into a ponytail. Then don’t go.

I sigh. It’s tempting. Almost too tempting, but I have to at least make an appearance. I have to go.

She rolls her eyes and tightens the band on her hair. No, you don’t. Besides, Drew’s going to be with Natalie the whole time. Why torture yourself?

I have been hopelessly in love with Drew O’Malley ever since I dropped my brown paper lunch bag in a puddle on our third-grade field trip and he shared his turkey sandwich with me. And I heard this afternoon…

They broke up, I retort.

Again? she asks, cocking an eyebrow. They’ll be back together by tonight.

What if they’re not? I can’t let myself fade into the background. The last time I did, that’s when Natalie swooped in, and I lost my chance.

Kylie, I’m asking this because I love you. Do you honestly think Natalie and Drew are ever going to break up? Like for good?

I slump down in my desk chair. She’s pure evil. He’ll have to see that eventually.

"I can’t deny that, but if he hasn’t yet..." She lets the rest go unsaid, but her point is loud and clear.

In theory, Drew and Natalie are perfect together. Both come from well-to-do families whose mothers both devote most of their time to the PTA. But perfect? It’s just that, a theory, and those can be proved wrong.

I’m holding out hope.

What if they’re back together?

I shrug. If they’re back together then I get him to notice me and nothing more. I might be in love with him, but I’m not a boyfriend stealer.

I’ll hang for a little while, and then I’ll come home.

If you’re going to get out of your house, why don’t you come here instead? We can both watch Tommy play video games.

She can always see right through me, down to the part I try to hide. I can’t hide anything from her even if I wanted to. I hate watching him spend another Friday night on the couch.

I turn to the picture of Mom and try to smile, but it falls flat. Sometimes I can’t manage through the pain. Tears well in my eyes, and I blink them back.

I have to get ready, I say and jump up from the screen.

Ky, are you okay? Sam asks softly, and the tone in her voice merely pushes my tears forward.

Fine. Yeah, great. I didn’t realize the time. I got to go. Have fun with Tommy. I’ll call you later.

She lets out a sigh. Okay. Later then, she says, and my screen goes black.

A tear falls down my cheek, but I swipe it away. I fan my face and pull myself together. The last thing I need is for Dad to hear me crying. He’s suffered enough since Mom died. I close my eyes and take a calming breath, letting it spread through me like an ocean breeze.

When the pain has run its course, my eyes slip open and I finally find the strength to smile at Mom’s picture. I go to it, press a kiss to my fingertips, and then to the picture.

I let the happy memories fill my mind, washing away the sadness. Love you, Mom, I say, and walk away, wishing she was here.

***

I head into Drew’s party and scan my surroundings. Everybody who matters is here. All friends through association. You don’t have to like the people you hang out with as long as they fit the mold.

I make my way through the crowd, and my mind drifts to the unfinished story sitting at home on my nightstand. I have a back up book in my bag, but as tempting as it may be, I wouldn’t pull a book out and start reading at a party. The idea of being curled up on the couch with a book, though, is so much more appealing than traipsing around in these high heeled death traps.

Three hours from now when my feet are ready to explode, I won’t care how hot I look. And I do look hot. If I can get Drew to look past Natalie’s inflataboobs, I can go home and be exactly where I want to be.

I squeeze my size six ass through the crowd playing beer pong and blocking me from Drew’s view.

Hey, Ky. Want to play? Jack Stine holds up a ball and flashes me his killer smile, his blond hair falling shy of his eyes.

Not tonight, Jack. I’m not a fan of beer pong, even though I’ve played a few times and apparently am really good at it. Who knew it would be my calling in life? But seriously, how hard is it to get a little ball into a big red cup?

Next party, you, me, and the championship! He holds his hand up, and I slap him five as I continue my sexy stalker creep.

The couch is in direct line of Drew’s vision. Thank the heavens. My feet are killing me. I want to plop down, but instead I ever so slowly ease my rear onto the soft leather and cross my double moisturized legs. Oh glorious couch, how I love you. With a flip of the wrist, I send my golden brown, hot curled hair over my shoulder. If my hair could talk, it would be saying, Oh yoo-hoo, Drew. Over here.

If Sam were here, she’d point out how desperate I look. Not that I’d hold it against her, the whole best friend thing and all.

Drew’s gaze shifts to mine, and the twelve-year-old girl inside of me squeals. His light brown hair is perfectly coifed, and his matching eyes make me blush. He’s a walking cliché with his broad shoulders and super model good looks. I wish I could say I’m the girl that doesn’t buy into clichés, but I have drooled over Drew for as long as I can remember.

Very casually, I lean forward, stretch out my leg, and run my hands from my ankle to below my skirt's hemline. In my mind Drew is following my hand like a dog follows a ball as it’s thrown. I don’t dare look. It would defeat the purpose.

I move on to the next leg and do the same. This time I can’t help but glance over to his corner. His hands are on the counter, his eyes on me. The only problem, Natalie is sitting smack dead in the middle of his braced arms. I thought they broke up. Disappointment spreads through me like wildfire before mixing with a dash of anger.

Bitch. And not because she gets to kiss Drew whenever she wants and sit between his arms being the center of his world.

Well… maybe that has a lot to do with it, but she’s not good for him.

Yeah, she’s pretty, in that artificial Barbie way, and she has a body I would kill for, but she’s not nice. Just yesterday she chewed out a poor freshman for not moving away from the mirror when she entered the bathroom.

The number one rule of Claremont High: do not get on Natalie’s bad side because the Queen Bee will turn the entire hive against you. The sting of vengeful minions could ruin your life. I’ve seen it happen. Time and time again. One minute someone is part of Natalie’s world, and the next they are banished.

Natalie puts the B in bully, and because of that, no one stands up to her. The consequences are far too worse. It’s seriously not worth it.

Natalie jumps down from the counter, her boobs still in the air as her feet hit the ground. I wonder if they’ve ever smacked her in the face, and smirk at the thought.

Drew smiles after her, but as soon as she’s out of sight, his smile turns to me. Oh my God. He’s walking this way. All five-foot-eleven, sexy grin, cool swagger is heading toward me. Thank you shimmering moisturizer!

Don’t look at him. Act cool. I’m cool.

Hey, beautiful.

Squee!

Oh. Hi, Drew. Antarctica has nothing on me.

Mind if I sit? he asks, pointing to the empty cushion next to me.

Do you want me to fluff the pillow? Move the couch so you have a better view of the party? I tell my brain to shush and channel my excitement into a casual smile.

I cross my legs and scoot to make room. If you want.

The couch shifts beneath his weight, causing me to lean the slightest bit closer to him. He smells like Abercrombie and mint. Mmm…What I would give to rest my head in the crook of his neck. My focus drifts to that forbidden spot. It’s a neck, but it’s so pretty.

Kylie, you okay?

Oops. Yeah, sure. Uh huh, I say, since complete sentences have fled my mind.

He reaches across me, and my eyes skim over his perfectly tanned arms. His skin grazes my knee, and I hold my breath to keep from giggling.

I said this is a great book. He points at the book sticking out of my purse: The Complete Poetical Works of Edgar Allan Poe.

Crap. He wasn’t supposed to see that. I forgot to zip my bag shut. Wait a second. Hold the presses. Not only is Drew O’Malley gorgeous, captain of the swim team, and capable of making my heart beat like it’s being controlled by a drugged up drummer, he likes Poe.

Drew O’Malley knows Edgar Allan Poe. He is perfect.

How did I not know about this sooner? My crush boy, who I have stalked on occasion—don’t judge, reads.

I told Sam there was more to him than a coma-inducing smile. Oh, how I love to be right. Of course she’s not here for me to gloat, stupid older sister obligations. If Drew wasn’t sitting next to me, I would call or text her now to let her know my new Drew revelation.

What am I thinking? Drew is next to me. Drew freakin’ O’Malley. Speak, Kylie.

I wouldn’t pin you as a reader, I say, thrilled my voice doesn’t waver.

I might say the same about you. His eyebrows do that sexy turn down thing in the middle. Does he practice in the mirror?

Me? Really?

His cheeks widen. Most hot girls could care less, but you’ve always had the B trifecta.

The B trifecta? I arch my eyebrow in true you-intrigue-me-Drew-keep-talking fashion.

Brunette beauty with brains.

Afraid my cheeks might shoot lava and damage his model worthy skin, I tilt my head down and let my curls cover my face, as I take a moment to compose myself.

So, Kylie, what’s your favorite Poe piece? he asks like a true scholar.

Drew and I have talked before, after all we run in the same circle, but never like this. He’s never mentioned Poe and has never looked at me with fascination radiating from those gorgeous eyes.

"Easy. Annabel Lee, I answer without a second of hesitation. What about you?" I shift so I can look at him dead on. A favorite piece of work can show a lot about a person.

"The Raven," he says, and a satisfied grin spreads across his face.

It’s a typical choice, but a classic nonetheless.

I love the musicality of the piece and how beautifully it flows. You know what I mean? he says, and it’s like he’s speaking to my heart.

I close my mouth in hopes I didn’t drool down the front of my sheer chiffon blouse. A quick look down confirms I’m dry. Good, because I can’t afford the dry cleaning bill. Couldn’t even afford this shirt, but I’ve already been seen in all my other clothes. I didn’t have a choice.

I know exactly what you mean, I say. "The undying devotion, the conflicting emotions of forgetting and remembering, the constant repetition of nevermore, all create this dark yet gratifying piece."

Yeah, and how he uses Ws in the first line to demonstrate the state of unsteadiness.

A pinch. A pinch would wake me from this dream. But do I really want to be awakened? Absolutely freakin’ not.

Just like he used the rhyming to create the musical effect.

Totally. Drew lifts his arm and leans it on the back of the couch, turning his body until the browns of his eyes are looking directly in mine. I play it cool, not to give away my racing pulse. My damn lip is trying to expose me so I bite down on the inside to stop the tug of war.

It’s not like his arm is draped around me or even across me. Hate Natalie or not, she is his girlfriend. Still a girl can dream.

He’s a poetic genius. Drew moves closer. His lips inches from my ear, his breath hot against my skin, freezes me in place. Don’t tell anyone, but he’s the reason I started writing.

You write? I ask as he pulls away, the heat of his breath still lingering on my skin.

He holds up his thumb and forefinger. Well, you know, a little.

Wow. He reads, he writes, he’s hot. He’s everything I’ve dreamed of. And because I never believe good things can happen, I pinch myself.

My eyes slip close as I wait to be jerked awake in my bed.

You sure you’re okay? I open my eyes, and Drew is still here.

I smile a slow, sexy grin. More than okay.

Drew buddy, Jack says as he walks by us.

Drew gives him a high five. I want a rematch.

Anytime, Jack calls over his shoulder.

Drew’s eyes land back on me and with that smolder I pray I don’t go up in flames. What were we talking about?

Your writing, I say and he settles into the couch cushion before continuing the conversation.

We don’t run out of a single thing to talk about. It helps that people keep offering him beer, so he hasn’t once had to get up from his spot next to me on the couch.

A perk of being the host, I guess, or king of the school. Speaking of the king. I haven’t seen his queen, at least not since she was between his arms. I scan the room for a second, but there is no sign of the bleached blonde, not that I’m complaining. It only means more one-on-one time for me and Drew. I like this new side of him I didn’t know existed, and I want to know more.

My eyes drift across the party. Nobody seems to be paying any attention to us. Not like they have any reason to. He’s being a total gentleman. The only rated R bits are the ones running through my mind.

Drew continues to talk about writing and then how working as a lifeguard this summer gave him a new perspective on nature. I’m about to turn my attention back to him when I see Stacy Muller push her way through the crowd. Black mascara runs down her cheeks as she stumbles past the couch and out the door.

I don’t even have to ask. I already know.

Natalie strikes again.

It’s one thing for her to pick on the freshman in the bathroom, but to torment the girl that is supposedly her best friend is wrong. Makes me even more grateful for Sam. She would never do anything that would send me off crying. And if she did, she would be trailing after me, spewing apologies.

I don’t really feel sorry for Stacy though. Natalie makes her cry at almost every party, yet Stacy still kisses her ass and shadows her every move. Sure, it’s nice to be Natalie’s partner in crime, you get invited to every party, people move out of your way like you’re Moses parting the Red Sea, but is it worth it?

Personally, no way in hell. For people like Stacy, absolutely. After years of being teased for her big glasses and braces, she would do anything to be accepted. Too bad it’s turned her into a total bitch. It’s amazing what contacts and a hair straightener can do to a girl’s personality.

Drew on the other hand has been flawless since the sixth grade. He’s never had a bad haircut, his skin has never been marked by acne, and those eyes have always had a way of turning my thoughts into dripping ice cream.

I cling to every word, mesmerized by him, staring at his mouth as he continues to talk about his summer on the lifeguard chair. Never does he mention seeing me, but that’s because I hid amongst the family side of the beach and drooled over him from a distance.

It might all be about being seen, but there is also being overexposed. Being seen so much you become a permanent fixture instead of a highlight. Overexposure would not get me Drew’s attention, and if my current situation is any indication of my theory, slap an A on my paper.

Did you have to pull anyone out of the water? I ask, imagining Drew diving into the wake in his green lifeguard shorts.

A few people. There was this one kid, a five-year-old, took off from his mom and ran right in. The riptide pulled him down. By the time the mom got there, I already had him in my arms. Scared the shit out of himself. He practically clawed my skin to keep from going under again. I still have a scar from where he drew blood.

Really?

You wanna see? Drew leans into me, his head inches from my own, as he tugs at the collar of his shirt, revealing his broad shoulders. See right there. He points at a white spot, marking his perfect glow. Lil’ bastard got me good. It’s even raised. Feel it.

I can’t touch Drew. I might spontaneously combust. He takes my hand in his, warm, strong, and gentle, and pulls it toward his bare skin. My heart is past rapid speed, doing acrobatic flips. His hand pushes mine against his skin and moves it back and forth so I can feel the rise of the scar.

What the fuck do you think you’re doing?

My hand retracts like a paddle ball on a string.

Babe, it’s nothing. Drew sighs, releasing his collar and falling back onto the couch.

Natalie’s hands are on her hips, and I swear she stomped her foot. Nothing my ass. Her voice rises, grabbing the attention of several people.

Look, you slut, she screeches. Keep your disgusting, unmanicured hands off him.

I raise my hands up as I look at my nails. Just as I thought. There’s not even a chip in my midnight blue. I didn’t do anything wrong, so I stand to confront her on a more even playing field. I don’t need her looking down on me any more than she already is.

He’s mine, she declares, making sure everyone within an earshot hears her.

I position myself in front of her, but not too close. I don’t want to be in touching distance. With a calming breath I say, Natalie, you’re overreacting. Drew and I were just talking.

Overreacting? I don’t think so, she bellows. Her voice has risen to a new altitude. Wouldn’t surprise me if people on Mt. Everest can hear her. Mt. Everest or not, everyone at this party is gravitating toward us to get a front row seat to the show, and I’m starting to rethink my approach. Maybe I should have apologized and left. No screw that. I’m so tired of cowering down to her. Who does she think she is anyway? I stand my ground as Drew slowly retreats.

He slips through the crowd and abandons me, leaving me to deal with Natalie’s babble of rage on my own. The acrobatic flips of my heart fall from mid flip, splattering across the mat.

The energy to defend myself has fled. Besides, I’m not sinking to Natalie’s level. I’m better than that. I’m better than her.

The crowd grows, circling around us like we’re a cheap carnival act, and making me really uncomfortable. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, but I don’t step down.

Her voice gets louder with each slut comment that spews from her mouth.

Natalie, give it a break. Leave her alone, a firm male voice calls out, and Jack Stine steps out of the circle and into the ring.

My beer pong buddy is coming to my rescue, and I let out a sigh of relief. Drew threw me out into the middle of the ocean and walked away right as a massive wave crashed down on my head.

So much for my fantasy of the perfect lifeguard rescuing me.

Natalie swats her hand at Jack dismissing him like he’s a speck of dust she can shoo away. She points her finger at me. This is between me and the whore.

Kylie is not a whore, Jack says in my defense.

Natalie turns from me and focuses her eyes on Jack’s. Don’t you have an Elton John concert to go to?

What does Elton John have to do with anything?

Jack withdraws, and I flash him a grateful smile.

Natalie swings around to face me, her overly blonde hair whipping around her shoulders, and her eyes venomous. If I ever see you touch Drew again, I will destroy you. You got that?

I nod because any desire to stand up to her is out of reach. Pathetic. But I don’t have many other options. I can’t defy Natalie. The last place I want to be is on the receiving end of her retaliation.

Not that I expect any less from you, she continues. Maybe if your mother was still alive, you’d know how to act properly.

My surroundings blur. Every inch of my body stiffens. My hands clench at my sides. The heat on my skin boils, begging for a release. Without another thought, I raise my fist and punch as hard as I can into Natalie’s perfectly made up face.

She drops.

Holy shit. I punched Natalie Silvers in the face.

Nobody talks badly about my mother and gets away with it. Bitch deserved it.

I step back, my surroundings clear. Natalie is on the floor, her minions tending to their fallen queen. A few people look at me, mouths agape, eyes wide.

You’re dead, Natalie mutters as Jack’s hand wraps around my arm and pulls me away.

Chapter 2

Two weeks later

Bitch.

Loser.

Gentle whispers yet the impact of the words are anything but. They penetrate my body and invade my heart and soul. It hurts like hell. Little reminders the life I once loved, adored, is nothing more than a fading memory.

Moo. The animal sounds hurt the most, chipping away at my thick skin until I have no choice but to face my insecurities. I’m not overweight. It took a lot to convince myself though. When you’re mooed at, it’s hard not to look in the mirror and see a cow. I’ve realized a size six and 5’5 is far from the silhouette of a cow. But that doesn’t stop them.

Nothing does. They’re relentless in their efforts to torture me.

I don’t deserve this. For the most part, minor infractions aside, I’m a good person. But I overstepped the boundaries. I dared to stand up for myself, and instead of making things better, it made them a lot worse. A thousand times worse.

Am I sorry I did it? Hell no, because in hindsight, I believe even if I didn’t hit Natalie, she still would have turned everyone against me eventually. At least I have the memory of that punch, and the look on her face as she went down, to help me weather through this.

I go to my locker to get my textbooks. The word slut is still visible, though I did my best to scrub it off. Natalie did it. She’s the only one that loops both the top and bottom of her Ss, but according to Mr. Locust, our principal, that wasn’t enough evidence to hold