Just Drop Out (A High School Bully Romance): Hannaford Prep Year One

by J Bree

  Ash raises an eyebrow and hands me the stack. Blaise is twitching in his chair but neither of them try and make conversation. We sit in total silence until I’ve flicked through everything he’s given me. I glance up to see they’re having a conversation entirely with their eyebrows. I’m oddly impressed.

  “Here. Do this page so I can see where you’re up to.” I slide the page across to Blaise and he murmurs a quiet sure under his breath. I start to write out notes for him to study at night and to use during tests. I have to focus to keep my scrawling handwriting neat enough to be read by mere mortals.

  Not that I think Blaise is mortal.

  Or mere.

  He gets straight to work. He’s quiet, subdued from his usual flirty manner, and I give myself a second to breathe. It’s hard to do because I can feel Ash’s calculating eyes on me. I wonder how much Blaise told him while they were waiting for me to show. I’ve always arrived to the sessions at least ten minutes early so I would think Ash would have made a smart comment about my tardiness.

  Ash begins to tap his pen in his hand as he says, “You should have asked Blaise to pay you for your tutoring. He’s a millionaire and, someday, he’s going to be the sole recipient of a billion dollar empire. You’re an orphan Mounty who has lost everything. There’s only a few weeks left of the school year, charge him say a grand a week. That’s literally nothing to us.” I pause long enough to glare at him but he just waves me off, “I’m not being an arrogant asshole, I’m just stating facts. Avery dropped more cash on hair products this week than what I’m suggesting he pay you. It’s a business transaction. A legitimate one. You can replace all of your shit and Blaise can stop moping around like a kicked fucking puppy because you’re being nice to him for no reason.”

  Ash grunts as Blaise’s foot connects with his shin. I think about it for about three seconds. I could increase my bank balance by thousands of dollars for doing something I’ve already committed to. I’m not going to lie, it’s tempting. Then I think of something better. This is my moment to prove a point.

  I set my pen down and fold my hands together, letting my face drop into a serene mask, before I speak. “You’re going to be a man of business someday, Beaumont, and I’m here to help Blaise out with numbers. So let’s look at some real world facts.” Ash tilts his head at me and motions me on. “I have a full ride scholarship that covers food, shelter, and clothing for 36 weeks of my year which leaves me with 16 weeks to have to financially provide for myself. I have a hundred grand in the bank. At my current rate of spending by the time I graduate Hannaford and move onto college I’ll still have more than seventy grand in the bank. I will get a scholarship for college, full ride just like this one because we all know I’m that good, so that money is going to keep sitting in the bank. When I start out in the career of my choice, I'm going to hit the ground running.”

  I pause. Ash is staring at me, rubbing his chin absently, and so I continue. “I know that to you that amount of money may sound pathetic but to me, and to most people, I’m set. Major, catastrophic disasters would have to happen for me to have to touch the money I’ve got. So I don’t. Want. Your. Fucking. Money.”

  I pick up my pen, expecting the conversation to be over. Blaise certainly thinks it is. He’s frowning down at the numbers like he’s waiting for them to give up all their secrets. Ash snatches the pen out of my hand.

  “Inheritance?” he says.

  I shake my head.

  “Gambling? Are you a secret poker savant?”

  “Nope.”

  “Shame. I could have used the pointers.” Ash lets out a little gasp and leans in. His torso is long enough that he easily covers the distance between us. “Did you steal it Mounty?”

  I smirk and lean in to him. Once my chest is pressed against the table and my lips brush his earlobe I whisper, “I earnt it from a dead man.”

  I lean back and see that he’s staring down the front of my blouse, where the small amount of cleavage I have is pushing up lusciously.

  “Why Mounty, I didn’t think you were the type.” He drawls and I don’t know if he means my chest or my money making methods. There’s this little grin on his face that makes me want to scream. I think he enjoys the push-pull banter we slide into the moment we’re near each other. I have no idea how to flirt but I think this might be it.

  I open my mouth, unsure of what I’d even reply, when we hear a scream.

  I jerk around in my seat to look towards the sound at the back of the stacks. Students start moving en masse but the librarians are nowhere to be seen.

  “Avery?” says Blaise, urgently and Ash replies, “Harley took her down to her ballet class.”

  There’s another shriek and I’m up and out of my chair, pushing past students to find the source. I have a sinking feeling as I make it through the crowd, Ash and Blaise pushing through behind me, and I stop dead.

  Joey is standing over another student.

  A dead student.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Joey’s chest is heaving.

  There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his eyes are glassy, bouncing around the room like he can’t focus on anything. I spare him a second before I grab Ash’s arm and haul him over to the dead student. Joey begins to laugh. It’s an awful sound, too loud and hyper, and tears stream down his face as he clutches at his chest.

  I’ve learnt a lot of important, life saving shit while in Mounts Bay but I don’t know if there’s a damn thing I can do for this guy. He’s a freshman, I recognize him from my Social Studies class, with mousy brown hair and a dimpled chin that makes him look younger.

  “Call 911, Ash.” I say firmly. Ash startles away from me. He’s watching Joey’s every move like he’s waiting for him to strike again but he fumbles his phone out of his pocket and makes the call. Only seconds have passed since we got to the kid but I know exactly how critical time is. I check his airways, clear, then his breathing…nothing. His throat is already looking mottled.

  Joey’s strangled him.

  Ash starts talking down the line to the operator and I start CPR. I’m focussed entirely on the kid, counting compressions and singing the stupid song in my head to keep time. When I stop to do the breaths Ash switches his phone onto speaker and and takes over the compressions.

  “Like this?” he asks and I start to sing Staying Alive by the Bee Gees softly, just loud enough for him to catch the rhythm. I hear a scuffle behind us but I ignore it. No, I trust Blaise to keep Ash and I safe while we try and help the kid.

  No other students step forward to help.

  I lose any respect for them, any shred that I had, because only a monster would step away from this without helping out.

  He’s just a fucking kid.

  The 911 operator tells us the ambulance is at the gates and I bark at the crowd to send someone down to lead them up. The scuffle get louder, swearing and spitting and wood snapping, and then a palm touches my shoulder blade. I flinch and look up to see the EMT’s have arrived. I slide away from the kid and Ash stops the compressions. As his hands leave his chest I hear a wet, sucking, gurgling noise and then a moan.

  He’s alive.

  I scramble away and Ash catches me by the elbow, lifting me off of the ground. I can’t take my eyes off of the EMT’s while they load him up and start working on him.

  “What’s his name?” I say and Ash pants back, “Matthew. Matthew Steiner.”

  When they’re wheeling him away I finally look over to where Joey was standing. Blaise and Harley have him pinned to the ground but just barely. Blaise is bleeding profusely from a deep gouge in his forehead. Avery is standing over them scanning the crowd with a keen eye. She’s making her assessment, planning out the damage control required to minimize her brothers attempt at murder. I see red, seething maniacal bleeding red, and I step forward only to be stopped by the vise grip of Ash’s hand around my wrist. He doesn’t look down at me but he gives it a little squeeze.

  A warning.

  �
��Anyone get it on tape?” Avery even sounds like her usual icy self.

  Two girls step forward and hand over their phones. Avery taps away at them, her phone pings, and then she hands them back. I watch the crowd. I want to memorize the faces so I know who the truly weak and apathetic students are. As easy as breathing, I start to notice the behaviors. There are three students, all guys, who are digging their phones deeper in their pockets subconsciously, like they’re taking to push them out of Avery’s reach.

  I do not trust Avery.

  But Ash just stepped up to the plate, he’s earnt my respect where a whole group of kids just failed. I now have some level of trust in him.

  “There’s others who have the footage.” Ash looks down at me and then when I point them out he starts calling names. Sharp and authority, the guys lurch forward at his command. Avery arches an eyebrow at them while they fumble over themselves to make excuses. Avery takes a copy of their footage and wipes the phones.

  There’s other ways to do it. Software and coding that can be done to hack into the phones and get whatever you need out of them. I might suggest it to Ash later, an extra sweep to make sure this stays buried.

  I still don’t know why we are burying it.

  “Go, Mounty. You don’t need your name attached to this.” Ash lets my wrist go reluctantly and gives me a gentle push towards the door. It occurs to me that there are still no teachers or librarians here and that Avery and Harley made it but no adults have yet. If I hadn’t rushed forward that kid could have died. I mean, he might still die or have a brain injury but at least we gave him a chance.

  I glance back at Joey one last time before I leave. He’s stopped thrashing about but he’s hissing at Harley instead. He’s not looking at his face, his eyes are lower, his neck-

  The necklace.

  He’s spotted the necklace I stole from his room the day I called the cops and had him arrested. I turn and walk away, shoving past the crowd not giving a damn who I hurt with my boney elbows. I only stop at the table long enough to grab my bag and throw my supplies back in it.

  I get to the far side of the school, where the staircases to the girls dorms are, before I see Mr Trevelen and the librarians rush past. Too little and far too late thanks to the interference Avery ran.

  I lock my door, check it’s secure, and then collapse back onto my bed.

  So I now have two lists I’m compiling.

  One is an ongoing list of everything the Beaumont’s can get away with, which now includes murder.

  And the second is a to-do list.

  I’m going to need to call in a favor.

  “A phone call, Starbright? Is the school burning down? Have you castrated a young, enamored boy? Are you finally coming home?” Matteo’s voice settles into my skin like a throbbing wound. I feel like I need to scrub my skin the second I get off the phone regardless of the fact I only just showered. The banter didn’t feel fun anymore, it hadn’t felt fun in a long time. Now all I can hear is the possession in his dulcet tones. He’s speaking to someone he thinks he owns.

  I won’t ever let him own me.

  “I need to call in a favor.” I say sweetly. It sounds fake because it is. I’m not sweet.

  I’m fucking tired.

  “Tch, kid, this is getting out of hand. You know you wouldn’t have to keep running to me for help if you did some recruiting of your own. There are dozens of suitable candidates, all clamoring to sign up under the infamous Wolf. I could move some of my crew around for you. As a member of the Twelve you have to have people behind you. This is why you need to come to some meetings.”

  I roll my eyes. He wants to give me some people to start a gang with. His people, so he can always have loyal eyes on my back. In his mind it’ll make it easier for when he claims me and have the two gangs amalgamate to become one super criminal organization.

  It’s much easier to lie to him on the phone. “I’ve been giving it some thought and I’ve got a few leads. I’m looking for very specific skill sets and if I’m going to do this I’m doing it right. I gave you my word I’d be at the next meeting, over the summer, didn’t I? Is my word not good enough anymore?” I finish with a teasing tone. Some might even call it flirty but I just call it a necessity.

  I hear him cover the mouthpiece and bark out orders. If you’re with the Jackal you’re always at war or starting a new one. When I was just a kid and Matteo had first taken notice of me at the group home, he’d told me he looked up to Alexander the Great. All he wanted to do was build an empire. He enjoys the thrill of the chase, the outsmarting, and the kill.

  I think I caught his interest because I was strong.

  I think I’ve kept it because I won’t give in.

  “We can talk about your leads at the meeting, I’m interested to know who you have your eye own.” The censure in his voice is clear to me. Great, something else I need to think about and plan for. “Let’s get back on topic, I have someone waiting for me. Someone…went on an unsanctioned holiday and needs to be reminded of their duties. What do you need?”

  He has a defector in his office, tied to a chair, listening in on our every word. They could listen because they would be dead by morning. I had seen Matteo work so many times I didn’t even need to shut my eyes to see it. I knew which knife he would reach for first, I knew where he kept his blowtorch, I knew which hand he would wipe clean first.

  “Joey Beaumont is quickly deteriorating. I need all the information you can give me about him, his family, their businesses, and their history. I need to know how I can safely neutralize him because I’m going to have to. Soon.”

  I hear the knife at Matteo’s waist slip out of its sheath. I do not want to have to try and sleep after listening to the defector scream. Hurry up, asshole.

  “I’ll send Diarmuid up with a copy of my files. He’ll be happy to come visit, he has a nephew who goes to school with you.” My eyebrows shoot up.

  Dairmuid O’Cronin was the son of an old Irish mobster. Forty years ago the O’Cronin family had held a large territory, they’d exclusively run the docks and controlled the importation of drugs and weapons into Cali. Then the institution of the Twelve started and the family had lost members, lost loyalties, lost three-quarters of their territory, and rumor had it the patriarch of the family Liam O’Cronin had started to lose a grip on reality. Dairmuid had defected and become a gun for hire ten years ago. He was an unparalleled assassin, a terrifying driver, and he had a shitty attitude. I like him. The Jackal was one of the very few who could afford his price so I had spent some time with him over the years.

  “Who is his nephew? I can’t imagine an Irish mobster going to Hannaford.”

  I heard the swing of Matteo’s knife in the air and his grunt as he impaled the poor idiots leg. He didn’t scream, he just let out a grunt of his own. Buddy, you want to scream. If you don’t he’ll only get more creative.

  “Kid goes by his moms name. Arbour. Blond and blue eyed like her too, apparently he looks fuck all like the O’Cronin’s.”

  My heart stops.

  Harley.

  Harley is the mobsters son.

  ‘Honor before Blood’

  Holy.

  Fucking.

  Shit.

  “Diarmuid will pop in and see him and then drop off the file. Does that work for you, Starbright?” I hear fabric ripping, grunts of pain, and Matteo’s labored breathing. I hope to god he’s just carving the guy up and not…doing anything worse. I don’t want to think about it.

  “Yeah, thanks. You’ll only owe me two favors now.” Matteo agreed which came as a little bit of a shock. He’d been so adamant that he was just being nice and doing things for me this year that I thought I’d have to fight him. “I’ll send you the diamond back with Diarmuid if you trust him with that.”

  Oh, did I mention I have millions of dollars worth of cut diamonds, all of the favors I’m owed, hidden in the safe under my floorboards?

  Yeah.

  My life is too complicated.


  I sit in my doorway, pretend to read a book, and eat a protein bar for an hour. I’ve changed into my old men’s sweater, a pair of shorts, and thigh high socks. I like to cover the scars on my leg and it’s already too warm for pants. I’m getting impatient waiting for Avery to appear. Every minute that goes by is a minute closer to Harley being ambushed by his uncle and it’s all my fault. Not that I can tell him it’s my fault, I can’t tell him I’m getting information on the Beaumont’s without starting another war. My stomach turns. I have to tell them something.

  When Avery finally arrives and breaks my spiraling thoughts she’s being escorted back to her room by Ash. It’s a pain in the ass because I was hoping it was still Harley’s turn to babysit her. Now I’d have to actually come up with some excuse for them to get Harley up here.

  “Too poor for a chair, Mounty?” drawls Ash, Avery’s ballet bag slung over his shoulder. I’ve told him about my stash so I know he’s baiting me. It’s the next step in our push-pull game.

  “I was waiting for you guys to get back.” I haul myself up off the floor and prop my hands on my hips.

  Avery doesn’t acknowledge me, she just grabs her bag and saunters into her room. Ash smirks at me but I can see something has changed in his eyes. There’s a soft edge in them that wasn’t there before. It’s like every one of our interactions so far has chipped away a little at him and he’s opening up. I shiver and rub my arms uselessly. I’m not cold. Someone should tell my pebbled nipples that fact too.

  “I can’t give you any answers, Mounty. But I can say thanks for helping out and shutting up about it.” He leans back into the door frame and my eyes run down the long line of his legs. Focus, Lips, fuck.

  “Look, it’s not about Joey. I need to speak to Harley urgently. Can you text him to come here? Or meet me somewhere else on campus?”

  A frown appears at his brow and he straightens. Whatever expression I have on my face is concerning him. He slides his hand into his pocket but then Avery pokes her head out of the door again.