“I don’t know. All right?” She was heaving, her hands in the air, and she stormed at me.

I didn’t move.

Not one goddamn inch.

She could’ve hit me, but she backed up at the last second.

I smiled. “You’re a fucking liar. You know exactly why you did that, and you’re lying about it right now.”

“What? Are you going to hit me?”

I contemplated her question, my head moving to the side. “No, but if you hit me again, yes.”

She paled at my words. I didn’t think she knew she’d hit me.

“What do you want, Mackenzie?” She shoved some of her hair from her face.

“I want you not to hit on my boyfriend in front of me, or at all. I want you to stop thinking I’ll take it. It isn’t even him. You come after anyone I care about, I’m going to say something.” I narrowed my eyes, moving a step closer to her. “I’m going to fight you, whether it’s physical or verbal or mental. I’ve been through hell, so I have no problem reaching up and pulling you down with me. If you’re looking for a girl to bully or intimidate, it isn’t me.”

She should’ve known this, but apparently she really had forgotten. It’d been months since our last real exchange. Or maybe she forgot in the rush of basketball? Cora had warned me, and maybe I was setting the precedent. Go after Ryan and expect a fight. No. That wasn’t me. Girls would hit on him. If he indulged, that was his decision. I’d walk then. I wouldn’t fight that, but this was a different situation.

“Was it even about him?” I asked her.

“What?”

“Just now. Did you really want Ryan to go for pizza with you? Or was it about me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course, it was about you.” Her eyes moved past me, and I saw the group of senior girls standing there. “They dared me to ask Ryan for pizza and not include you.”

They were testing me.

I kept my eyes narrowed and took a step toward them. “You’ll have to excuse me,” I called. “I’ve been preoccupied since coming to Portside. I have no clue who the ‘leader’ is here.”

The girls were shocked, their mouths hanging open, except for one.

She pushed forward and pushed her hair over her shoulder. “I guess that’s me.”

“You have a problem with me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because of Kirk.”

I was dumbfounded. “What?”

She exchanged looks with her friends before turning back to me. “He was talking to us.”

“His arm was around her.” I gestured to Erin.

She huffed and then shrugged. “But I was the one he was talking to.”

“You’re pissed at me because I called him over.”

No. As she was talking to me, she kept looking at Ryan. This fight wasn’t about Kirk. This fight was about Ryan. Cora’s warning might’ve been more realistic than I realized.

“You are what’s wrong,” I said.

“Say again?” I saw the storm building in her eyes.

“You’re what’s wrong. You’re saying this is about Kirk, but I think you’re full of bullshit. You’re going at me, and you’re sending Ryan looks this whole time. This is about him, and why? Your ego is bruised because he isn’t with you? Is that the problem?”

She shook her head. “You are unreal. You have no clue who—”

I stepped right into her face. There was an inch between us, and she stopped talking. I waited, watching as she struggled against moving back, but she didn’t. She knew how this game went.

I was in her space. I could feel Willow riling up next to me. She used to live for this stuff, and a bleak part of me thought to her, You’ve been silent for almost two months, and now you’re back?

I’m here because you need me here.

“You think you’re going to win?” snapped this girl, smirking. She’d been at the pool party at Ryan’s house, and later at Kirk’s after we skipped. “I have friends. We can make your life miserable—”

“Do it.” I included her friends, sweeping a look over all of them. “Cyberbully me. Text me whore, skank, whatever other fucking stupid words you can find that are beneath you. Do it. Send it to me. Call my house. Whisper to my mom about how she should wish her second twin would kill herself too.”

I felt their surprise at those words. But I’d said it before. I knew it was out. They knew about Willow.

“Send me the emails about how I should die. Slice my tires. Slice my mom’s tires. Write loser on my locker. Do all of it. I will fucking eat everything up. I will record your calls. I will screenshot your tweets. I will save every fucking email and forward it to our principal. I will turn every goddamn thing you do to me back on you threefold. I will make it so you bury yourselves until you’re the ones getting called to the principal’s office, where you’ll hope the best thing that happens is being expelled. Do it.”