Hate to Remember: A Dark High School Bull Romance (Marshall High Society Book 1)

by L V Chase

  Before seventh period, I pass by the janitor, who tells me that he’s still working on cleaning my locker, but he’s thrown out all of my ruined belongings.

  That’s unfortunate, because my gym clothes were in there.

  I stand in the corner of the gym, wearing my jeans and a white t-shirt. I watch everyone trickle in from the locker room. The first few people to trail in are the guys. I’m surprised to see Ethan’s labmate there. He notices me right away and jogs over.

  “Hey, Sadie,” he says. He’s wearing a white USMNT jersey. “How’s it been hanging?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me,” I say.

  “Mmm. Try me,” he says. “Like I hear everyone’s talking about how someone pissed all over your locker.”

  I let my head drop back in exasperation, but I quickly look back at Ethan’s labmate. Exposing my throat to him felt strangely risky.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. What’s more rockstar than a piss-covered locker?” he asks.

  “And you’re the authority on rockstars?”

  “I know a few,” he says. He offers his hand. “Roman Shaw. From the Shaws.”

  He says that like I’m supposed to know what he means. When I don’t immediately gasp in shock or whatever he expects, he continues.

  “They call us rich and stuck-up. High society and all. The rich part is true. The stuck-up part is what people call confidence when they don’t have it themselves.”

  “That’s quite an introduction.” I give him a polite smile. “I can’t say I’ve heard anything about your family before, good or bad.”

  He laughs, but there’s a hint of uncertainty at the end of it. It seems like he doesn’t know what to do with someone when his last name doesn’t precede him. In a way, I can almost relate to him because my own reputation is larger than me. We’re both defined by what people have heard about us.

  “Anyway, it sounds like you’ve had a hard day,” he says, touching the tips of his gelled hair.

  Despite the arrogance rolling off him, it’s an honest type of arrogance. He doesn’t feel the need to pretend to be anyone other than who he is.

  “So, how about I give you a ride after school?” he asks. “I’ll drive you home.”

  “That’s incredibly kind of you,” I say.

  I consider rejecting his offer because I don’t know him, but he and Ethan might become my only friends here. When the rumors say I’m insane, he’s the one who should be wary.

  I try to smile. “That would make feel a little better.”

  He grins, dimples appearing on his cheeks. “How could you not feel better in an Audi R8?”

  As I open my mouth to respond, a bright red flash slams into the side of Roman’s head. Roman lurches backward two steps before falling onto his ass. A rubber ball bounces away.

  I look in the direction that the ball came from. Several more of the guys had come out. Among them, Klay is standing away from the group, watching Roman and me.

  Roman scrambles back onto his feet, rubbing the side of his face. “What the fuck!”

  He sees Klay. The left side of his face darkens to match the red imprint left by the ball. Roman storms over to Klay. I almost expect him to hit Klay, but he stops a couple of inches away from him and points an accusatory finger instead. Klay doesn’t react.

  “You know the fucking rules,” Roman spits out. “You know what fucking happens if you don’t follow the—”

  A man in basketball shorts, a blue cotton shirt, and a whistle around his neck claps his hands together as he walks toward the middle of the gym.

  “Alright, class!” he calls out. “Start running laps! Five of them!”

  The PE teacher glances at me, taking in my lack of gym clothes, before looking at Klay and Roman, who are staring down each other, their bodies tensed like two jaguars about to fight over a kill. The teacher gestures for me to start running with the rest of the group.

  I run. With every step, I try to shake off the feeling that something important just happened that I don’t understand.

  7

  Sadie

  The final bell rings as I’m sitting in my sweaty clothes during Spanish class. I’ve spent the whole class plotting my next move. I’m not going to live the whole school year this way. I’m going to figure out why everyone is refusing to talk to me and why Klay hates me.

  Ethan evaded my question before, but Roman doesn’t seem as smart, plus he offered to drive me home. If I get him stuck in his car, I can wrangle some information out of him.

  I don’t know how far I’m willing to go with a guy. If I figured that out already, I’ve forgotten. In any case, I don’t want to be everyone’s voodoo doll that they poke and prick and piss all over.

  I find the Audi in the parking lot—bright yellow with a vanity plate that says DUKE3. I sit down on the curb. I watch the other seniors get into their cars and drive away.

  When I see Klay approaching, the muscles in my legs tense. I’d like to say it’s because I’m prepared to run away or charge at him, but the parts of me clenching aren’t filled with fear or anger. It’s yearning.

  His walk falters when he notices me. There’s the smallest shake of his head before he continues walking past me.

  I stand up. I can’t let him piss in my locker and walk past me like he’s innocent.

  “I know you did it,” I accuse, walking after him.

  He spins around so quickly that I stumble backward. He reaches forward like he’s going to grab onto me and stop me from falling, but I regain my balance and his hand quickly drops back to his side. He looks down at his hand like it betrayed him.

  When he looks back up at me, his eyes brim with raw aggression.

  “Sounds like the words of a paranoid crackpot,” he says. “Get home, Bell Jar. You don’t want to have a meltdown in the school parking lot.”

  “Oh really? How about you whip out your small dick out right now and piss on my things,” I snap back. “Because that would actually show some courage instead of doing it behind my back.”

  He takes a step closer, looking at me with an intensity that could turn me to ash. I take a step back.

  “You should keep your sick fantasies to yourself,” he says, his voice softer than velvet, but with an edge that borders on violent.

  I take a deep breath, preparing myself like a fighter in a cage. I take a step forward, trying to prove that he can’t intimidate me. He jerks away as my hand nearly bumps against his arm. His eyes search mine for a second before he turns around, quickly retreating into a black Jeep. I watch as it rumbles to life.

  He backs out of his parking spot, swinging the Jeep around in one fast, arrogant motion. As he slams on the gas, the Jeep roars forward, and I’m sure he’s about to run me over.

  And he almost does, pulling away at the last second, so the side of his car brushes against my hip, and his mirror barely clips my shoulder.

  My body keeps trembling nearly five minutes after he’s left. I walk on shaky legs back to the curb and sit down. Am I really insane? Why didn’t I get out of the way?

  A small part of me was certain that he wouldn’t kill me. It was more arrogant than anything he or Roman could ever do. It’s the psychotic part of me, breaking through my act as a confident, normal woman.

  I wrap my arms tightly around my stomach. Part of me is still waiting for Roman. Part of me is waiting to feel like it’s safe to move again.

  When I see Roman, a wave of relief crashes over me. A slow smile breaks over his face as he approaches.

  “Hey there,” he says. “Didn’t know you were waiting.”

  “You offered to drive me home,” I say. He hits the heel of his hand against his head.

  “Ah, fuck, yes, I did.” He grimaces. “I’m an idiot. I can’t leave quite yet. I’ve got practice. But I’ll take you afterward, alright?”

  The buses have likely already left. He’s my only way home.

  “Sure,” I say. “What do you play?”

  “Basketball,” he says
.

  He opens his car door and pulls out a gold-colored drawstring bag. He slams the door shut and motions for me to follow. He walks faster than me, so I take long strides to keep up.

  “I actually wanted to ask you some questions,” I say. “Do you—”

  “Actually,” he cuts me off. “It’d be great if you kept your questions to yourself until practice is over. I’ve got to stay focused. Game time. Winning. I can’t be thinking about anything else.”

  “Oh, okay,” I say. “I get it.”

  After we step into the school, he stops in front of the locker room. He smirks at me, leaning against the wall. “Want to join me while I change? It’s a bit against the rules, but none of the teachers are going to get on my ass about it.”

  “Uh, no. I’ll just wait in the gym.”

  He shrugs. “Your loss.”

  As he disappears into the locker rooms, I go into the gym. A few other girls are sitting on the bleachers in a small group. If it’d been earlier in the day, I might have tried to join them, but after a day of constant rejection, I sit on the bottom row, near the edge.

  I still can’t believe Klay would nearly run me over. I can’t imagine what I did to make him hate me so much.

  Maybe in the last two years, I became a terrible person. Maybe I falsely accused him of rape, or I hurt one of his family members. Maybe I bullied him for the last two years, and he’s getting his revenge.

  But who could ever bully a face like that?

  The basketball team runs out. They run through their drills, layups, passes, shooting.

  Through it all, Roman’s easy swagger is replaced by a focused confidence. I watch the team repeatedly pat Roman on the back. They all revolve around him, vying for his attention. Maybe he’s a better person than he seems. Maybe money has more influence over people than I thought.

  One of the girls on the bleachers stands up and walks over to me while the boys are working on their layups. It’s Cara from biology. Her hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, and she’s holding onto a steel water bottle with the tips of her fingers.

  “Hey,” she says to me. “I was such a bitch back in biology. Sorry about that.”

  I stand up. She’s standing on the plank above me, making her seem significantly taller than me. It’s not something that would normally bother me, as far as I could remember, but with her, it feels like a challenge to my dignity.

  “Oh.” I’m not quite sure how to respond. “Thank you.”

  “I also heard about what happened to your locker,” she says. “You must be used to it. I bet those kinds of things happened all the time in the crazy house.”

  Heat rushes into my cheeks. “Um, no. It didn’t ever happen.”

  “Well, it seems like an appropriate welcome.” She gives me a fake smile. “Make you feel right at home. This might help too.”

  She tosses the contents of her water bottle at me. I hadn’t realized its cover was off. The liquid splashes onto me. The yellow tint triggers a fresh wave of panic, but as the cold liquid seeps into my pants and shirt, I smell the faint scent of apple juice.

  “Stay away from Ethan,” she says, pivoting on her heel as she walks away. The gym has become hushed, but I keep my head down, stepping off the bleachers and running out into the hallway. I run through the halls, trying to remember where the bathrooms are.

  In my panicked state, I run up the stairs. I know there’s a bathroom near my locker.

  I stop at my locker first. I have a sweater in here from earlier. I can switch into it in the bathroom. I’ll just walk to my grandmother’s house. It’s nearly five miles, but it’s better than facing everyone again.

  I pull my locker door open.

  Hands grab onto my arm. They shove me into my locker and try to push the door closed as I barely manage to get my hand onto it, trying to push it back open.

  The person is infinitely stronger than me, though, and I’m too surprised to put up a struggle. I instinctively yank my hand away from the door as it slams shut so that I don’t pinch a finger, not thinking about keeping the door open. The door shuts, and I hear the click as it locks.

  It still smells like piss.

  I try to find a latch from the inside, but the inside of the lock is smooth. I bang on the door.

  “Hello?” I call out. “Hey! Help! Let me out!”

  I bang harder and harder. I don’t hear anything outside, but a janitor has to be around somewhere. Maybe there’s a club that meets upstairs. Maybe a teacher is getting inappropriately close to a student in one of the rooms. I don’t know anymore. I just need to get out.

  I continue to pound on the door, but I stop yelling. Maybe people will think I’ve lost it, but then again, I’m stuck in a locker.

  Someone taps on the outside. I stop banging.

  “Hello?” I ask, feeling crazier than ever.

  “Run,” a low voice says. “Get out of town. Leave and never come back.”

  “What? What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with all of you?” I bang as loudly as I can against the door. “Let me out! I can’t run if I’m trapped here!”

  I stop, my heart beating hard. There’s nothing. Whoever threatened me is gone. As I’m cramped in the locker, banging on the door every thirty seconds, I consider the voice. It hadn’t sounded like a threat.

  It was a warning.

  8

  Klay

  When I get back into my Jeep, I slam my fist against the steering wheel. I hit it over and over until my arm aches and my pinky is pulsing with pain.

  My expertise is in control. I know how to keep someone under my thumb, I know how to shove anger down until I need to use it, and I know how to focus on an objective until I complete it. I was raised to play God. I was raised to be better than this.

  But Sadie makes me an amateur when it comes to control. She turns me into a fucking powerless moron.

  I shift into drive and pull out of the parking lot. As I get onto the road, I quickly hit 45 MPH. It’s well past the speed limit, but no police officer is going to come after me. If they do, I’ll enjoy the confrontation.

  Sadie has to leave, after what I’ve done to her. I’m not certain how much further I could push it, but I needed her fear to overcome her stubborn streak.

  Fuck. I don’t know how long I can do this. If she doesn’t leave tonight, I can’t imagine what I’ll have to do.

  But I told her I’d do anything to stop this competition.

  “I’ll take care of it,” I promise. “You won’t be going in blind.”

  “I love you,” she says. “But I don’t want you to risk everything. The Society…”

  “Which means I’m not going to risk you.”

  We kiss. I know the word for every bone, the structure of muscles, and the mechanics of tendon, but every time I touch her, I’m enthralled by what I discover. I immerse myself once more in the warmth of her breasts, study the gentle curve of her ass to her thigh, and explore the thrill of her muscles tightening as my hand moves under her sweatpants and her underwear.

  Her back arches, pressing her body against my erection. I memorize the expression in her eyes, keeping my gaze locked on it as we move together. It’s a moment of escape from our fears, giving in to our bodies’ needs and chemistry.

  I imagine taking her away again but before I can remind myself how foolish that idea is, her breath catches in her throat, and I let myself forget everything but the wild joy lighting up her face.

  I grip the steering wheel tighter. I never told her that I loved her back then. I should have.

  I stare straight ahead. I promised Sadie I would do whatever it took to make it okay. I fucked up once, but I’m not going to fuck up again. I can shove aside my feelings to keep Sadie safe.

  Control. I’m still an expert. I can discard my feelings and bend her to my will. It’s my only option.

  9

  Sadie

  When I get to my grandmother’s house, she bursts through the doors.

  “Sadie!”
She hugs me tightly before stepping back, scrunching up her nose. “What happened to you? You look terrible and smell worse. The bus drove by hours ago!”

  “I stayed after school, and I decided to walk home,” I say. “Sorry I worried you.”

  She’s pale, her messy gray hair’s falling forward over part of her face, and she’s leaning on her right leg like she’s tipsy, but there’s no alcohol on her breath. The plain blue dress she’s wearing looks extra crumpled, but I don’t ask why. I put my arm under her arms, partially embracing her again, and partially taking on some of her weight.

  “Let’s get you back inside,” I say. “I’ll find something to make for dinner. After I take a shower. I spilled some juice on my pants.”

  I won’t tell her about Klay.

  I won’t tell her about being shoved in my locker.

  I won’t tell her that the janitor let me out after half an hour.

  I won’t tell her that I preferred walking home rather than facing everyone again.

  She worries about me enough. She shouldn’t have to take care of her insane granddaughter when her own health is a puzzle that the doctors won’t work on. She hasn’t told me much, but I know it bothers her. There’s not much I can do about it, though, except making sure I don’t get in her way.

  I fill a pot with water, put it on the stove, and start the cooktop to boil it. I give my grandmother a few more reassurances before rushing to the bathroom. I peel off my clothes and jump into the shower before the water gets warm.

  The jolt of the cold water is a comfort compared to what’s happened today. Goosebumps cover my skin, which turns numb. Then, the water warms up, and my skin’s scorching instead.

  I press my forehead against the shower wall. At this point, even if I wanted to cry, I wouldn’t be able to. My emotions are twisted together so tightly, I can’t pull one out without completely falling apart, and I can’t risk getting sent back to the psychiatric ward.