Page 1 of Play For Me

ONE

CECELIA

The first time I got in trouble for fighting with a boy, I was six.

I don’t really recall much about it—kindergarten memories aren’t super clear—but I do know his name was Logan Brisbane and he pulled my cousin Vega’s hair.

My older brother Silas, who was also on the playground at the time with his fourth-grade class, certainly remembers what went down that day, and gets a big kick out of retelling it. Apparently, I kicked a soccer ball in Logan’s face before pushing him down and sitting on him.

The next time I had to fight a boy was in second grade. I’dreallygotten in trouble then, like sent to the principal’s office and suspended from school trouble. And, okay, I did give the kid a pretty bad bloody nose, but I maintain to this day that he deserved it for calling my other cousin Ash a ‘cry-baby freak.’

As hazy as most elementary school memories are, I can very clearly recall the fear I felt when my parents came in to talk to the principal. Later that evening I’d overheard them telling my aunts and uncles about it. Dad had been laughing but Mom just seemed tired. “I thought having a baby girl might be more chill after all those boys, but I swear, she’s the most stressful one yet.”

I managed to keep my little fists to myself for a couple years—which maybe had more to do with the fact that kids were scared of me after that and knew not to mess with me or my cousins. But in fifth grade, my good behavior streak came to an abrupt end. Noah Giles, who lived down the street from us, decided his new favorite activity was making my life miserable. He tripped me in the hallway, made fun of my “boy clothes”, and knocked my art assignment off my desk, ruining three days of work.

But it wasn’t until he stole my soccer ball and popped it that I finally had enough. I waited for him at the bike racks after school and proceeded to push him down and take his backpack—which I emptied onto the ground before pouring the red paint I’d stolen from the art room all over his belongings. It hadn’t helped that he hit his head on his bike pedal when he went down, scraping his eyebrow and causing him to bleed pretty good.

When I last saw him at our high school graduation, he still had a scar over his eyebrow.

“She’s absolutely feral,” my second oldest brother Will had said, laughing with my dad and Silas.

“The teacher told us the kid has a huge crush on her,” Dad had said, not bothering to hide his grin. “Apparently he’s been acting like a little shit to get her attention.”

“Jesus,” Will had groaned. “Can you imagine what she’ll be like as a teenager? The boys in this town are in so much trouble.”

At least one person in our family didn’t think it was very funny—my oldest brother Wyatt. Wyatt is technically my half-brother, and my mom had him when she was really young, making him a full-grown adult by the time I reached elementary school. But even with our age gap, we were really close. I idolized Wyatt.

Which is why I took our conversation to heart. “CeCe,” he’d told me, voice serious. “I want to make sure you understand this—no one gets a pass for picking on you and treating you badly.Any adult who says it’s fine for a boy to be mean to you just because he has a crush is full of shit. That’s trash behavior, and you don’t have to put up with it. Never,evertake shit from any boy.”

Then he’d taught me how to really throw a punch, “just in case.”

That stayed with me over the years. I did get a lot better at controlling my temper, so there weren’t as many opportunities for school yard fights, but the whole ‘never take shit from any boy’ thing? Yeah, pretty much my life motto.

And that motto is roaring in my ears right now as I glare daggers at the absolute asshole who had the nerve to make my cousin Violet cry at this fucking Kappa Sig frat party.

“Can we just go?” she asks, tugging on my arm. “I want to get out of here.”

I turn to gape at her. “Your boyfriend is like, six feet away with his tongue down another girl’s throat. And you want to leave? Without kicking his ass?”

She wipes at her leaky eyes. “He isn’t really my boyfriend. We were just hanging out.” She cuts off when I release a low growl. “Okay, I thought it was more than that, but clearly I was mistaken, so let’s just go.”

I turn back to the dickwad, narrowing my eyes as he appears to eat the poor girl’s face. “Could he have any less class?” I mutter. “He’s in a room full of people and he’s acting like this?”

“CeCe,” she moans. “Please. Let’s go.”

“Without confronting him?” I snap. “Absolutely not. I’m going to superglue his dick to his jeans.”

“Oooh,” a singsong voice trills beside me, and I feel a familiar pair of arms wrap around me. Our cousin Vega has joined us. “Is CeCe about to go all badass on someone?”

I shake off Vega’s arms and point across the room. She goes still next to me. “Is that?—”

“Travis,” I snarl and hear another pathetic little sob from Violet behind me. It only increases my rage.

“Oh, sweetie,” Vega cries, turning to Violet and wrapping her arms around her instead. “I’m so sorry. What an asshole!”

I’m relieved Vega is here, and I’m sure Violet is as well. Out of our group, I am definitely not the soft and comforting one. I’m more the take-names-and-kick-ass member of the family.

“Who’s an asshole?” A third cousin, Cade, slides up to our little huddle. His eyes go wide when he sees the look on my face. “Shit. Is CeCe about to go all badass on someone?”