Two girls hovered by the sink in the girls' restroom, one was crying while the other was consoling her. In between Girl One's sobs I could just make out what she was upset about. Apparently she'd gone and hooked up with Tremaine Dickenson and he'd quickly dismissed her afterward. He'd even given her a gold bracelet as a walking away present.

Girl One's sobs increased and it took a lot out of me to not roll my eyes and scold her. Hell, at least he'd given her something before serving her walking papers. What was there to cry about?

         "It's like he...used me." Girl One turned and faced her friend, showing her tear drenched face. She was pretty, and from the looks of her figure, she definitely fit their type.

         At Moorehead High they were the cause of many female meltdowns. They as in the Ballas' Club. The Ballas' Club consisted of four boys who were on the basketball and football teams. Tremaine Dickenson was one of them, along with DeAndre Parker, Marcus Hamilton and Chris Jenkins. Together they went through girls like they went through Jordans. You'd think others would catch on and wise up, but some females at Moorehead were just that obtuse.

         Finally giving in, I rolled my eyes and headed out of the girls' restroom. The girl's sobs were merely indicative of the looming breakdown she would endure.

         She'd brought it on herself though, what Tremaine did was nothing new and she'd subjected herself into becoming smashed and passed as soon as she took it upon herself to take the shit that came out of his mouth seriously. There was just no point in offering up sympathy for the stupid and naïve.

         Along the way to my fifth period Honors English class I bumped into my best friend Troiann Nguyen as she was closing her locker.

         "CJ wait up!" she hollered to me. Troiann was a tiny little thing, even when hollering she came off small. She was only five-one, taking after her Vietnamese mother instead of being tall like her Black father. Being of a unique blend though, she was gorgeous with her brown sugar complexion and big almond shaped eyes.

         "You will never guess what train wreck I just witnessed," I told Troiann as soon as she caught up to me.

         She stopped digging in her bag and gave me all of her attention, leaning close. "What's up?"

         I chuckled and shook my head. "Some girl was crying because Tremaine ended things with her after smashing."

         Troiann shook her head as well. "These girls never learn. As soon as you give up the box the Ballas don't care about you anymore."

         "Shit, at least she got a bracelet out of it."

         "For real? What was she crying for then?"

         I shrugged as we headed into our class. "Beats me."

         Across the room stood Tremaine, laughing about something with DeAndre Parker. There was no denying that the two of them, along with the rest of their group, were good looking, dressed to impress with perfect haircuts and groomed facial hair—if any. It all made them stand out amongst the male population at Moorehead High.

         But it was their treacherous track record that made me smart enough not to get close to the fire.

         Tremaine had the audacity to be sporting a t-shirt with the words Bad Bitches Only on it. It was almost surprising no authority figure had seen the salacious shirt and told him to change. But our school was all about status, the more you showed out and made Moorehead look like a school that bred winners, the more passes you got. The Ballas' Club definitely played it smart, not only did they dominate the sports teams they participated in, they also were academic all-stars as well, not to mention the various clubs they sometimes joined. They were smart all right, playing the game one step ahead of getting caught.

         Seeing how careless Tremaine was after dumping that girl made me scowl. Jackass.

         "They gone get theirs one day," Troiann said as we took our seats.

         We lived in the real world, karma didn't exist and good didn't always conquer over evil. It was futile to wish failure upon the boys. The only thing to do was stay as far away as possible.

         Our teacher stepped into the room, immediately going to the chalkboard and writing LOVE boldly on the board and underlining it three times.

         "Let's talk about l-o-v-e." He sounded enthusiastic about it, almost as enthusiastic as he was over Jane Austen.

         Mr. Ventura went and sat on his desk. "Who wants to start?"

         No one raised their hand. We didn't really know what he expected us to say. Love was a topic of myriad responses.

         "Don't all raise your hands at once," Mr. Ventura attempted to joke, which no one laughed at. "Well, come on, what's your opinion? I know we're all sixteen and seventeen but we've got minds by now, right?"

         A girl raised her hand and Mr. Ventura quickly called on her. "I think love is an amazing feeling." She looked to a boy who was obviously her boyfriend and smiled.

         Give me a break.

         I wasn't an expert on love seeing how I'd never been in it, but I had a big feeling it was more than just simple feeling.

         I raised my hand to speak up.

         "Yes?" Now Mr. Ventura was ecstatic more of us were participating. The smile on his face was almost pitiful, he was so geeked.

         "From my perspective, love is not a feeling. Love is a verb, it's all about action. What good is a 'feeling' if you're not acting on it? After all, faith without works is dead."

         "That's excellent, Miss Jacobs, anyone else agree?" Mr. Ventura asked, looking around the room.

         To my surprise, DeAndre raised his hand. "I disagree, love is not just a verb, it's a noun, an adjective, it's more than just action, speaking from experience."

         Like he had a heart or had ever been in love. The Ballas' Club didn't even date girls long enough to comprehend the idea of actual feelings, let alone love. I rolled my eyes. "And what experience is that?"

         DeAndre turned and smirked at me, questioning my nerve to challenge him. "Life."

         I shook my head and looked elsewhere. "Whatever."

         Mr. Ventura whistled loudly and slapped his knee. "Looks like we've got ourselves a good ol' fashion debate going. Who else wants to join in?"

         Others joined in on the discussion, nearly all the girls siding with DeAndre. Thirsty much?

         My cell phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out, finding a text from Troiann.

         Mr. Ventura cleared his throat, gathering my attention. "No cell phones, Miss Jacobs."

         "Right, sorry." I glanced at Troiann, only to find DeAndre watching me. Instead of looking away when he was caught, he just kept on, as if to see if I'd shift focus first.

         Everything was a game to the boys. I didn't want to play or get anywhere near their web, but I couldn't give DeAndre the satisfaction of seeing me give in.

         Mr. Ventura called the class to order and I looked away, only to peek back at DeAndre and catching him smirking and shaking his head. Tremaine reached over and slapped him five.

         I gritted my teeth. He thought he won.

         From then onward I refused to waste another thought on DeAndre Parker or the Ballas' Club.

         Screw them and their egos.

Troiann was anxious to get to lunch sixth period. The girl ate like a horse and would never turn down free food. The bell had just rung and she was acting like it was a race to get down to the cafeteria or something.

         "Hurry up, CJ, before the line's hella long," she whined as she stood in the row of desks next to me, all ready to go.

         I took my time gathering my things, it was Tuesday, and I was in no rush to eat cardboard pizza.

         "Oh gee, we wouldn't want to miss our chances at greasy mystery pizza, now would we?" I asked as I stood from my seat and shot Troiann a teasing smile.

         "Anything tastes good when you're hungry."

         "When are you not hungry?" I turned, about to lead the way out of the room, but instead was stopped by the sight of Tremaine and DeAndre waiting at the end of the aisle.

         I wanted to hold my head high and walk right by them, but there were two of them, and they were locking me in.

         Nevertheless, I tried it anyway, making my way down the aisle as if they weren't there.

         Neither of them budged as I made my way up to the end of the aisle. DeAndre was closest, standing directly in my way as I came to a stop in front of him. He at least was wearing a more respectable top, a simple Billionaire Boys Club t-shirt. But even that made him appear arrogant and for that I continued my glare from his shirt to his eyes.

         DeAndre met my sneer with a smile, as he stuck his hand out. "Cree Jacobs, right?" He said it as if I were some stranger and not some girl he'd been in school with since the fourth grade.

         I nodded, offering nothing in response or shaking his hand.

         "I just wanted to thank you for that interesting discourse we had in class. It's always good to have a debate every once in a while." The more he smiled the more condescending his whole approach became.

         "Yeah," I replied. "It's always interesting."

         "Love is such a debatable topic, but I'm sure you know that. We're all entitled to our opinions."

         "Right."

         "So you agree?"

         "With what?"

         "That we're all entitled to our own opinions on love."

         He was confusing me. I couldn't tell what his point was and why he was blocking me from leaving.

         "I just don't think it's a good thing to equate having pointless sex with love," I said. That was all DeAndre and his friends did. How would they know anything about real relationships or love anyway?

         DeAndre blinked and his smile turned cocky. "Now that is a completely different argument, Cree. Sex and love are sometimes mutually exclusive, and others, they go hand in hand."

         I snorted. "How would you know?"

         Confusion took DeAndre's face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

         I crossed my arms, not holding back the truth. "I've heard about you and your friends, DeAndre."

         Mr. Ventura was already out in the hall and a few of our classmates lingered around, watching the show DeAndre was putting on.

         DeAndre looked over to Tremaine and they shared the same grin. He turned back to me, touching his chest. "I'm flattered. Nice to know our reputation precedes us. Now what was it that you heard? Was it our playing basketball for charity, our donating food to the homeless, or our Fly Gear clothes drive?"

         I wrinkled my nose, not impressed. "I'm not fooled by your façade. If anything, you're all just good boys who do bad things."

         "Some might substitute bad for fun."

         "Some are stupid and naïve."

         "Some are stuck-up prudes."

         "Your point?"

         "Exactly."

         Snickers echoed in the room, our peers were enjoying DeAndre's cool persona in his game and my sweating bullets.

         "You're a dog, DeAndre," I let out.

         DeAndre shrugged, showing he didn't care. "Of a high pedigree."

         "There isn't a high pedigree for mutts."

         He rolled his eyes. "Are you a feminazi?"

         Appalled, I scoffed. "No."

         "Didn't mean to offend you, I just picked up on that I-Hate-Dudes vibe." He looked around at our surrounding audience before returning his attention to me. "But back to the sex and love thing. Who are you to criticize sex when you've never had it and probably never will? You're just a tired old virgin who doesn't know what she's talking about."

         I did my best to ignore the instigators as they 'ooh'd' at DeAndre's remark. "What makes you think I'm a virgin? For all you know, I could only be giving it up to guys who are worthy and know how to keep a secret and respect a girl."

         DeAndre smirked. "You naming your fingers now?"

         My throat swelled from the embarrassment. How could he keep getting two steps ahead of me?

         I kicked myself into autopilot, refusing to let DeAndre or his insult get to me. "Oh please, DeAndre, your bullshit lines and looks don't faze me a lick. You're just a little boy with an attention seeking complex, get over yourself."

         "All right then, how many dudes you been with?"

         None, the answer is none. "I don't have to answer that."

         The sneer on his face increased as more people laughed at me. "You—"

         "Just leave her alone, DeAndre," Troiann spoke up to my defense.

         He lifted a brow, eyeing my best friend for a moment. That was all it took to shut her up.

         How much power did the asshole have?

         DeAndre looked at me, starting at my feet and ending at the top of my head. "I bet you like girls."

         "And if I did?"

         "It would explain a lot." DeAndre stepped closer, licking his lips. "One night with me, baby, and you'll be singin' a different tune."

         I rolled my eyes. "Negro please, I wouldn't go anywhere near that thing." I gaped between his legs, eyeing him in disgust. "It's probably dirty as many girls as you've run through."

         DeAndre didn't lose his cool as he backed away, shaking his head. "Girls like you, Cree."

         He gave me a salute and then he and Tremaine vacated the room, leaving me wallowing in what was left of my dignity.

         I hate the Ballas' Club.

_______________________
Name pronounced TROY-ANN

The Boys – Nicki Minaj & Cassie. The first of the two songs that inspired the novel

https://youtu.be/kXFcr6oy5dk