by Eden Beck
Maybe, with Harrows and girls like Olive so close at hand, no one even gave asking me a second thought.
On three separate occasions over the last week since my accident landed me in the infirmary, the different members of The Brotherhood have all tried to visit me. And on all three occasions, I turned them away.
They may have tried again, but I wouldn’t know. I’m pretty sure Nurse Weber had enough of wrestling the boys after Beck tried to pry his way past her despite her protestations, and that she banned them from visiting the premises at all.
Were they trying to ask me? Not Jasper, I’m sure.
Because he has a date.
But Heath and Beck … I turned them away too, and now I find myself standing in front of the mirror about to head down to a dance where I don’t have a date, and I’ll have to admit I’m feeling more than a little sorry for myself.
So this is it, huh? How I’m going to finish up my last semester here at Bleakwood?
Injured, attending my final dance alone, and watching the boys I care for slowly drifting further away.
Boys I care for.
I’m lucky Rafael is busy digging through his sewing kit because the sudden thought brings just as sudden tears to my eyes. I turn my head away and hold my breath, waiting for the flood of painful emotion to pass. Or, at the very least, be stuffed back down so deep that I don’t have to feel it anymore.
But then Rafael has to go and look up and harmlessly ask, “Did you get something in your eye?”
That’s when the real flood begins.
I’ve never seen Rafael straight up quite so quickly. Or look so confused.
“Did … did I prick you?”
Amidst the sobbing, I half choke on a strangled laugh. I hadn’t even noticed the pin in his hand until now. He could have poked me a thousand times and I wouldn’t have felt it. Not with the way all my other senses are so overwhelmed.
Once the shock of my sudden outburst has worn off, a new look dawns across Rafael’s face. Recognition.
“This is about Jasper, isn’t it?”
I bury my face in my hands and sob even harder. “When isn’t it?”
A second later, I feel Rafael’s arm wrap around my shoulder, and then when he’s gauged the fullness of my shaking body, he goes ahead and pulls me in with the other arm as well.
I’m keenly aware of how I’m soaking the shoulder of his suit with snot and tears, but that only makes my own shoulders shake even harder.
“It’s not easy, is it,” he says, quietly after a moment, “loving someone you can’t have.”
His words sober me faster than I thought possible.
I find myself pulling away from him so quickly that I almost stumble backwards off the platform. I would have too, if Rafael didn’t reach out and catch me just in time.
Just as he always does.
“Love?” I finally manage to gurgle out. “You think …”
“What else makes you act like you do?” he says, his hand squeezing mine. “And by that, I mean absolutely fucking batshit crazy.”
This time, I bark out a full laugh.
“See, Alex, I know you better than yourself,” he says, that one hand lifting to tilt my face upwards. “I’ve never led you astray, have I?”
“Aside from that time you tried to get me to starve myself,” I say, hiccupping.
Rafael shakes his head. “And was I wrong?”
“Yes.”
“Well, aside from that then.”
I think on it for barely a moment. “Who am I kidding, Rafael. At this point I practically owe you my life.”
“That’s right,” he says, finally letting go of me and taking a couple steps back to look me over. “You owe me, and I think I’m ready to cash in.”
I blink at him in surprise. My voice comes out as a confused stammer.
“S—sure. Whatever you need, Rafael.”
He keeps looking over me and nodding until, after a long moment, he looks up to meet my gaze. “I need you to forgive yourself, Alex.”
I just balk at him, my tongue twisting around the words I’m unable to get out. “I—I don’t know what you …”
Rafael holds up his hands. “When the time comes, just promise me you’ll do it. I’d hate to see you live a lifetime of regret just because you’re too proud to forgive yourself.”
My mouth clamps shut and I look at him for a long, silent moment, before I nod my head once.
Only then do Rafael’s eyes drop from mine to scan my body.
“And I don’t know about you, but I think we’ve found your dress.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
I was impressed by the dance that Rafael organized last winter but this dance … this ball … it puts Rafael’s previous efforts completely to shame.
And I see it on his face when we walk in together.
“Holy shit.”
The entire first floor of Bleakwood has been transformed into an indoor spring forest. Faux birch trees spring from the stone and tile floor at the corners of the great hall. Strings of light arranged like stars crisscross overhead. A string quartet plays in the corner where I once tossed my bags haphazardly the first day I arrived.
Any fading light falls through the stained-glass windows, casting flickering colors across the faces of the immaculately dressed guests.
I’ve never seen so many acres of fabric in my life.
And I immediately shift uncomfortably where I stand, unsure for the first time if I made the right choice about my own.
“Seems fitting,” a voice—Olive’s voice—drawls from behind us. Both Rafael and I whirl around before she can try to hit either of us in the back as she’s done before, only to come face to face with what appears to be a goddess descended to live amongst us.
Every inch of her is covered in diamonds, from the studded tiara she wears on her head to the long, silver gown cascading down her frame to trail behind her on the floor. Even amongst a sea of such dresses, she still somehow shines the brightest.
Perfect for Jasper. Only the best for Jasper.
That thought paired with the very sight of her, makes me want to be sick.
As much as I want to run, however, I find that impossible with the way Olive’s eyes scan over me, holding me in place.
“I can’t believe I was ever worried about you and Jasper,” she croons once her eyes have once again returned to meet mine. “I always wondered if you were a dyke, but I suppose this just confirms it. No pure-blooded woman would give up a man like Jasper, let alone those other two.”
My mouth drops open, but Rafael … Rafael …
I see the brief second when pure hatred and rage overtakes him. At first, I don’t understand what I’m seeing.
Rafael has always been level-headed. He’s not quick to anger, not even to annoyance. But here, now, for one moment—I think he’s going to stain Olive’s silver gown with her own blood.
I reach for Rafael, knowing if he really tries to strangle Olive here in the middle of the illuminated great hall there will be no way I can stop it.
But it seems I won’t need to.
The heavy tension is broken by a gasp, and all three of us turn to see Jasper, Heath, and Beck all frozen at the top of the steps. It comes as no surprise that all three of them look like they’ve stepped straight out of a catalogue for world’s most desirable men.
What is surprising, however, is that even with Olive dazzling like a goddess in front of me, each and every one of them only has eyes for me.
Heath’s jaw is visibly dropped open. Beck’s grin has spread in that naughty, maniacal way of his, his head turned down to stare at me with a fiery intensity.
And Jasper. Jasper.
I’ve never seen his blue eyes shine so bright as they do now, as they search every inch and line of the tailored suit I chose to wear instead of a gown.
Beside Olive, I should look like a dark smudge, another unremarkable figure amongst a sea of corseted hourglass figures and painted faces.
<
br /> But the way they look at me …
They look at me like I am the only person in the room.
They look at me as if they and I are the only ones who exist.
Beside me, Olive swears under her breath and hurriedly scurries by me towards the stairs in an effort to intercept the boys on their descent. I see how she tries to position herself in such a way that her voluminous gown blocks me from their sight, but despite her best efforts—The Brotherhood keeps their eyes locked on me.
Once again, they are the hunters and I am the prey.
But for the first time, that doesn’t make my stomach sink. Instead, it erupts in butterflies that make me so giddy, I feel faint.
I feel Rafael lean closer, feel his breath on my neck as he whispers, “Remember what I told you before.”
Remember … what? How am I supposed to remember anything right now, with the way those boys are looking at me?
Rafael nudges me a second time, and it takes every ounce of self-control in me to tear my gaze away from the boys descending the stairs to look at him—only to be immediately distracted by what I see directly over his shoulder.
“Oh, fuck.”
Rafael whirls on his heel with me, a confused look on his own face until he lays eyes on what I see.
“Shi—”
His next expletive is cut off as we are immediately beset by a horde of investigators led by Dean Withers and Headmistress Robin. And from the looks on their faces, something is most definitely not right.
Most notably, the fact that Dean Withers looks like he’s about half a bottle of scotch deep, and Headmistress Robin looks like she just found out she’s going to be crowned queen. Queen of what … or where … doesn’t matter.
Because we both know exactly what that means.
And we’re not the only ones.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jasper, Heath, and Beck freeze on the stairwell. Their eyes flicker from me to the encroaching group, where their gaze lingers for just a second before they are suddenly rushing down the steps two at a time. They push past Olive despite her attempts to get any one of their attention, who then too sees the heads of our schools and not to be left out, changes direction.
Dean Withers and Headmistress Robin stop directly in front of me and Rafael. The investigators behind them shift uncomfortably, their own suits paling in comparison to the opulence around them.
But that doesn’t stop the smug looks from still creeping onto their faces.
Before either of the heads of the schools get to speak, I feel the shift in the air behind me as Jasper, Heath, and Beck finally make it to my side.
For once, I don’t step away. I let myself lean into them a bit, feeding off their strength.
Whatever it is we’re about to find out, I have a feeling I’m going to need them to face it.
Just as I’ve always needed them.
“What’s all this?” Jasper asks, his voice commanding even amongst the drone of hundreds of voices laughing and chatting all around us. The sound of the quartet seems to fade a bit as I glance up at his stoic face, then back over to the dour expression on Dean Withers’. “What’s going on?”
“What’s going on,” Dean Withers says, slowly, “is that the investigations into Bleakwood have been completed.”
“And?” It’s Olive who shoves her way to the front. “And is this wretched school going to stay open?”
Dean Withers just looks at her with a drawn—and doubly drunk—expression.
“No, no I don’t believe it will.”
Behind me, a silence falls. The quartet misses a beat. The dancing stops. All eyes are on us now.
Jasper’s own blue eyes alight again.
“But I thought the competition was a draw. It was agreed that Alex still won … despite the fact her horse didn’t make it over the line.” Jasper takes a half step forward, his teeth practically bared. “You promised her injury wouldn’t be for nothing. It’s the least you could do if the culprit wasn’t caught—”
“But that’s the exact thing, the culprit was never caught. None of them were,” Ms. Ada says, from the head of the investigators standing at the back of this small gathering crowd.
“None of them?” I stammer out, my head swiveling as confusion clouds my mind. “What do you mean?”
“What he means,” Headmistress Robin interjects, her head tilting down ever so slightly as she fixes me with an unsettling look, “is that the investigators know about the bullying that’s been going on at Bleakwood. Your little accident, it just opened their eyes.”
I stare back at her, unable to say anything.
After a second, I finally take a small step forward of my own, my eyes narrowing as my voice drops. “You … you promised,” I hiss. “You said this was my choice to make. You said I was the only one who could do it.”
“Turns out I was wrong, I didn’t need you at all. Not your words, anyway … the actions of last week were enough to spell out the truth quite plainly for all to see,” Headmistress Robin says. “You should be thanking me, really. I just did what you didn’t have the courage to.”
I should have seen this coming.
I knew I couldn’t trust her. I just … for one foolish moment, I thought the power of Bleakwood was in my hands.
Now I realize it never really was.
I should have taken Headmistress Robin up on her offer and turned The Brotherhood in myself. Then, at least, all this—all these last two years—wouldn’t be crumbling to nothing around me.
It’s all I can do from breaking down right here, right now in front of everybody.
But really. I know I couldn’t have turned them in. That was a fantasy.
The reality, I realize as I look up over my shoulder at the three of them standing so close, is that I never could have done anything that truly meant I would be without them.
And somehow still, I’m about to lose them anyway.
“No need to look so worried,” another voice breaks in as none other than Barrister O’Brien shoves through the rest of the investigators, leaving Ms. Ada with a particularly sour expression on her face. “We do have some good news amongst all this.”
He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a handful of envelopes. These, he hands to Jasper, Heath, and Beck … and then, with a quick double glance to check the name written on the front, he hands the last one to me.
I stare down at the envelope with the all-too-familiar seal.
Oxford.
My application results.
I swallow, hard, as nausea begins to overwhelm me. I don’t need to open the letter to know what it says.
Unlike the boys’ thick packages, mine is all too thin to be an acceptance.
O’Brien sees my expression and reaches over to offer me a pitying pat on the shoulder. “Waitlisted, not denied,” he says, as if that’s going to offer me any reassurance. “Who knows what could happen?”
I do. I know what’s going to happen.
The pit in my stomach sinks even further. Bleakwood is closing. I’ve been waitlisted—a fancy way of saying denied—at the only college I bothered to apply to. And good luck getting in anywhere after the scandal of Bleakwood gets out. Good luck getting into any college once the high school I attended loses all reputation and accreditation.
All this, everything I’ve been through over the last two years, is all for nothing. All really for nothing.
But Jasper doesn’t seem ready to accept that, not yet.
“No,” Jasper says, suddenly taking a step forward. “This can’t be the end of it. I won’t accept it.”
Headmistress Robin now fixes him with a withering look of her own. “It doesn’t matter whether or not you accept it. What’s done is done.”
“Honey …” Olive says, her arm snaking around his for a moment, only to be rudely shaken away. Jasper shoots her a venomous look.
“But is it? Is it really done?” Jasper persists, stepping forward, further away from Olive. He looks from He
admistress Robin to the investigators behind her, searching their faces for something. He seems, for a moment, to be considering something himself before he blurts out, “What if the perpetrators were caught?”
Both Dean Withers and Headmistress Robin blink at him.
“I hardly think—” Headmistress Robin starts, but Jasper pointedly looks at the investigators behind her, and ignores whatever it is she says next.
“What if someone were to come forward, not just for the race … but for everything else?”
Whispers break out all around us as the investigators share a hurried glance. Ms. Ada leans in a bit and hasty whispered words are exchanged while we all wait. When she turns back, it’s as if the entire school—the entire ballroom—is holding its collected breath.
I hadn’t realized until now that all other sounds have ceased. It wasn’t just imagined before. The entirety of both schools listen to hear the fate that’s set to befall us.
“If that were to happen, well then, we might be willing to reconsider.”
Jasper nods once, and without hesitation, turns on his heel and heads straight for the band platform in the corner.
Olive tries to catch his sleeve as he goes, but he only shakes her off.
“This is all your fault, you know,” he hisses at her. “What a mistake you are. Don’t you ever, ever come near me or my girl again. You hear that?”
My girl?
The words make me freeze in my tracks, my mind whirling as I watch Olive frantically reach into her clutch to pull something out, which she furiously waves in his face.
“Do you forget,” she snaps, “what I have? What I’ll do to you?”
The letter stolen by me and given to Headmistress Robin. The envelope that contains a family-ruining secret of one of the boys.
A secret, that it seems in the following moments, was Jasper’s all along.
A secret that Headmistress Robin entrusted to Olive, of all people.
“Oh, perfect,” Jasper says, his voice steady as he reaches forward to pluck the envelope from her hand. “I knew I’d forgotten something.”
I remain frozen, a sudden ice clenching at my heart as everything falls into place. Olive was blackmailing Jasper to go to the dance with her.
