The Judgement: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Breakbattle Academy Book 4)

by Ruby Vincent

  “I love that about you.” Michael rubbed my nose with his. “You’re always thinking of how you can help.”

  “Hmm. Did you just say love, Michael Young?”

  His smile revealed the tiniest dimple in his cheek. “I believe that is what I said. Got a problem with that?”

  “No problem here.”

  “Uhh. Guys?”

  Our flirting came to an abrupt end. Daxton and Marco both stared at us.

  “I’m ready to try the takedown,” said Daxton. “Are you going to watch?”

  I flapped a hand at him. “Do it. I’m watching.”

  I paid them my attention this time as Daxton smoothly went through the steps and dropped his friend to the mat.

  “Nicely done,” I called. “Do it one more time and then we’ll try the single leg take—”

  The gym door flew open.

  The rest of my sentence was forgotten as Sully, Jose, Lars, Mason Prescott, and a few other A boys loped in. Bringing up the rear, was Zach and Rhys.

  “This is why I asked,” Michael said in my ear. “A lot of people don’t like what you’re doing, Zee. I walked up on them talking when I went out for my run. They were bitching about Bs and Cs losing to Ds and Fs because of you.”

  “What’s this?” Mason asked. The mocking grin sharply reminded me of the basketball to the face that ended our battle. It was his parting shot to me as he walked out. Mason was an A and a highly unpleasant one.

  “What’s it look like?” I asked. “They’re practicing, Mason.”

  “And let me guess...” He strode closer, holding out his hands. “You’re giving them some tips.”

  “So what if I am? It’s none of your business.”

  Rhys barked a laugh. “Damn, Young. Aren’t you two cozy? I didn’t know you swung that way.”

  I felt Michael’s shrug. “Now you do.”

  “I don’t give a shit where you put your dick,” Mason snapped. “I do have a problem with you and Manning helping these Ds cheat.”

  I heaved a sigh. “Will you give it a rest? It’s not cheating.”

  Zach pushed through the boys. “If it wasn’t against the rules, Coach Fineman wouldn’t have kicked you off the field. How about we tell Franklin what you’re doing?”

  “Go for it. He’ll tell you what I’m telling you. It’s not against the rules because it’s not cheating.”

  “No?” Mason strolled over to Daxton and Marco. He appeared to be enjoying himself. “Why is he here? Why couldn’t you practice on your own and face your battles like the rest of us do?”

  Daxton bared his teeth. “You don’t do it on your own. You practice together just like everyone else. Stop talking shit, A.”

  “That’s right. A,” Mason said. “I got into the A Class by working my ass off, and you think you can steal my privileges by having your misguided friend tell you what to do?”

  “If one afternoon of practicing with Zeke is enough to steal your privileges,” Daxton replied, flaunting his air quotes. “Then you didn’t deserve them in the first place.”

  “What was that?”

  Mason got in his face and Daxton shoved him hard. I was off and running as Mason came roaring back, fists raised.

  “Stop!”

  Mason and Daxton fell to the mat, limbs flying. Michael streaked past me and grabbed Mason. Rhys, Sullivan, Lars, and Jose were on him before he could get him off.

  “What is wrong with you guys?!” I shrieked. I pounded on Lars’s back. “Get off of—”

  A hand snagged my collar and yanked. Gasping, I flew back and hit the floor.

  “You started this!” Zach cried. He towered over me, fists balled for another strike. “You should have stayed in your fucking lane, F!”

  I scrambled up. I ducked Zach’s swipe and bolted across the room.

  “Hey!” Heavy footfalls sounded behind me.

  I fell against Coach Franklin’s door.

  “Coach! Coach!” I pounded on it. “Coach!”

  I prayed he was in there. Daxton, Marco, Michael, and I were outnumbered by too many and I had been beaten by a few of these boys before. I wasn’t eager for a repeat.

  “What is going on out there?!”

  I shot away just in time. His door flew open and Franklin stomped out—all two-hundred pounds of steaming, muscle-bound, wrestling champion. Two of the A boys that came with Mason scrambled off the mat and bolted.

  “If you run out that door, you’ll have detention for two months! If you’re tough enough to fight, you’re tough enough to face the consequences!”

  Franklin reached into the writhing pile and lifted Mason off one-handed. “That’s enough!”

  Franklin picked them apart until all the boys were red-faced and lined up in front of him—silent as a cemetery.

  “Now,” Coach began. “Who do I start with?”

  Coach gave everyone two weeks of detention. Mason and Zach tried to defend themselves saying it was my fault for messing with the system but Coach would have none of it.

  We trudged out of the gym. The boys shot daggers at me on their way to the dorm. I saw in their eyes this wasn’t over.

  “It’s pretty clear they’re choosing to blame me for getting them into trouble,” I mumbled.

  “Fuck them,” Daxton spat. “We didn’t do anything that they don’t do. They’re just coming for us because we’re not afraid to challenge the upper classes anymore.”

  Daxton punched my shoulder. “Thanks for the help, man. I’m going to crush this battle.”

  He and Marco walked off while I hung back with Michael. I slipped my hand into his.

  “I’m sorry you got mixed up in this.”

  Michael’s shirt was torn and there was a small cut over his eyebrow. Otherwise, he didn’t seem to be hurt.

  “Don’t be sorry. You didn’t start that fight.” He shook his head. “They’re taking this way too far and I don’t like it, Zee. What if they come back with more guys and there isn’t a coach around?”

  “I’ve never let Zach get in my way before and I’m not going to do it now. At some point, he needs to accept he doesn’t get everything he wants.”

  Michael rested his chin on top of my head. “Sleep in my room tonight. Please.”

  “Are you worried they’ll try to break into my room?” A valid concern.

  “Maybe that and maybe I just want to be with you.”

  I smiled for the first time since our interruption. “Okay. I’d like that.”

  That night, I burrowed under the covers, inhaling Michael’s scent. I heard a chuckle.

  “You’re not a cover hog, are you?”

  “You’ll find out.”

  The bed dipped and hands found me beneath the sheets. I rolled into Michael and pressed my lips to his chest.

  A soft groan fell from him. “It will be hard enough being in this bed with you and keeping my hands to myself. Don’t make it impossible.”

  “You can feel free not to keep your hands to yourself.” I peeked out of the covers like a naughty gopher. “I certainly won’t stop you.”

  “Well, they might wander a bit...”

  Michael gently guided me back and climbed on top of me. Anticipation pulsed in my veins hotter than blood. My chest rose and fell with heavy breaths—exposed in a low-cut tank top. Michael bent and brushed his soft lips on my collar bone.

  “Yes,” I breathed. “Don’t stop.”

  “Ah! Ahhhhhhh!”

  Michael shot off me. Blood-curdling screams ripped through the once-quiet floor. Michael tumbled out of bed and raced to the door. I leaped up and chased him.

  No, wait! I’m not dressed as Zeke!

  I skidded to a stop and slammed the door shut as someone streaked past. The shouts got louder in the hallway as I hurriedly shoved on my cap and wig and wrapped myself in his comforter. There was no time for my bindings.

  “Michael?” I ran into the hall. “Michael, what’s...”

  I trailed off as I took in the sight that struck half a do
zen pajama-clad boys frozen. Bright, dripping wet blood covered the wall between Sullivan’s and Lars’s room. A chilling message stained the stark white plaster.

  ‘Her blood is on your hands.’

  Beneath the message was an upside-down A.

  Michael reached out.

  “Don’t!” Sully rasped. His throat was hoarse from shouting.

  “It’s okay.” Michael swiped a finger through the blood. “It’s fake.”

  “Fake or not.”

  Our heads whipped around as Cameron stalked down the hall.

  “We have to get Whittaker. Go, Young. You’re the fastest.”

  Michael didn’t argue. He came over to me and guided me to his room. “Go inside. Lock the door. I’ll be right back.”

  He ran off before I could say anything. Not that I knew what to say. Who was For All talking about? What did that message mean? And why would he do something so horrible as to write it in fake blood?

  I ducked in the doorway as Cameron shouted orders. He tried sending people back to their rooms but the noise brought more guys out. Forty boys packed into the hallway, expressions grim.

  Derek spotted me across the hall and came over. “Get your stuff. You’re staying in my room.”

  “But Michael—”

  “He can take the couch if he wants, but you’re sleeping with me, Zee. Don’t argue. This isn’t stolen tablets or stink bombs.” A crinkle broke the smooth skin of his forehead. The last time he’d been this serious was that night on his patio. “For All has gone off the fucking rails and if he gets it into his head to do worse, these locks aren’t hard to pick. Get your stuff.”

  I thought about arguing and then my gaze drifted over his shoulder to the dripping message. I got why the new For All did what he did last year. I didn’t get this. Derek was right to be worried. An adversary you didn’t understand was one you couldn’t predict.

  “Okay.”

  I ducked inside and dressed for real. When I came out, Derek was backed up by two others.

  “—fine. Zee is staying with me.”

  “And me,” Landon said. “I’m not leaving him alone until this guy is caught.” Landon secured me to his side. “Heath made a good point about putting up cameras. Why hasn’t Whittaker done it?”

  “Probably can’t afford them,” said Derek. We passed by the message, all of us averting our eyes. “I heard Cameron’s dad say once that the way things are set up funnels most of the school budget to the Elite and A Class—like almost all of it. Breakbattle doesn’t charge tuition so they rely on donors and money from the state. It doesn’t leave much left over for extras.”

  “I never thought of it like that,” I admitted. “It does make sense.”

  Derek grabbed the doorknob just as Whittaker and Michael burst onto the scene. I’d never seen my principal out of his standard suit and tie before, but Whittaker in his night clothes turned out not to be much different. He marched down the hall in matching black silk pajamas and a thick robe. Despite his neat clothes, the rapid gait and hair sticking up in the back revealed he was frazzled.

  Whittaker took one look at the message and the blood drain from his face.

  “All of you, in your rooms now!”

  We didn’t need to be yelled at twice. The guys bundled me into the room, locked the door, and put Derek’s chair in front of it for good measure. Landon stripped me out of my Zeke clothes and carried me to bed. He was gentle as he got in next to me and pulled the covers to my chin.

  “Blankets are in the wardrobe,” Derek said to Michael and Cole. “If you’re staying.”

  “We’re staying,” said Cole.

  Derek slipped beneath the sheets. My vision adjusted in the dark and fixed on the white of his eyes.

  “What is going on?” I whispered.

  “I don’t know.” A warm hand found me under the blanket. “But we’ll figure it out. I won’t let anything happen to you, Zela.”

  Slowly, I shook my head. “This isn’t about me. I don’t know what it’s about but... For All isn’t playing games anymore.”

  “Then we need to figure out who he is so we don’t get caught in the middle.”

  I nodded. Solid plan, but would For All let it happen?

  Her blood is on your hands.

  What is going on in this school?

  Chapter Seven

  In the weeks that passed since For All’s message, life slowly returned to normal. We woke the day after to discover the message had been left on all floors and the cafeteria. It only made us feel marginally better that the dark message wasn’t meant solely for the Elites, but there was still tension in the days following.

  Eventually, when we didn’t hear another word from For All, we fell into a haze of homework, club activities, tutoring, sports practice, and sex.

  Now that the proverbial cherry had been popped, Landon and I had no qualms about doing it whenever we could.

  “We’re going to be late to class.” I buttoned my undershirt and then looked around for my blazer. Landon was fond of throwing my clothes all over the place.

  “We have some time.” Landon reclined against the headboard naked as the day he was born. The sheets were a crumpled mess at the end of the bed, leaving him on full display. “What are you doing after class?”

  “I’m going to watch a battle. Mitch needed my help to win more study hours in the library. This time with math tutoring. I want to see how he does.”

  “After that?”

  “I’ll be studying in the library too,” I said pointedly. “We have finals next week and all the places your ticklish won’t be on the test.”

  Grinning, he patted his lap. “They’ll be on my test tonight. We’ll be together after dinner, right?”

  “I’m hanging out with Derek after dinner.”

  “Argh.” He flung his head back. “Damn it, Zela.”

  I plopped on his lap and kissed his neck. “Right after that, I’ll be sneaking into your bed. Okay?”

  “Okay,” he said, sounding mollified. “And I’m not letting you out until you pass my test.”

  “Deal.”

  I left his room and almost ran into Mr. Sondheim.

  “Oops. Sorry, Mr. Sondheim.”

  He smiled wide. “No harm done, Mr. Manning. Have a good day of classes.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  I waved goodbye to the latest addition to Breakbattle Academy and continued to the Elite Wing. Installing cameras throughout the entire place would take a lot of money and too much time. Whittaker promised nonetheless that it would happen as soon as it was possible, but in the meantime, the boys now had their own matron, Mr. Sondheim.

  He was a super sweet guy who was always smiling and greeted me every time he saw me. He was also as tall as a tree trunk and just as thick. He roamed the halls from eleven at night to seven in the morning, ensuring we all stayed in our beds where we belonged.

  “Morning, students,” Mrs. Peterson said as we trailed in. “Finals are next week so we’re going to jump right into our review. Open your chemistry textbooks to chapter nine and go over the information. We’re having a short quiz in twenty minutes.”

  A short quiz turned out to be a forty-five-minute test. We had a quick break that lasted the amount of time it took to pull out another textbook, and then we went over advanced literature.

  The final bell brought blessed relief from review bootcamp. I tossed my things in my backpack and then bent to turn off my computer.

  “What are you doing over the break?”

  I turned my desk chair and peered at Cole upside down. “The break?”

  “Yeah. Are you leaving town?”

  “We might head up to New York, but it won’t be for the whole break. Why?”

  Cole rocked back and forth on his heels. He looked at my desktop, backpack, the floor, and then the ceiling—everywhere but at me.

  “You should come over,” he mumbled.

  “To your place?”

  “Where else?”

>   His snark was betrayed by his pink cheeks.

  I bit back a smile. “You want to see me for Christmas?”

  “I didn’t say that,” he snapped. “Doesn’t matter when. You practically live at Moon’s place so while you’re in Evergreen, you should come over. Play with Toby. Hang with Christina.”

  I closed the distance and pressed a gentle kiss to his flaming cheek. “If I go over your house, it won’t be for your dog or your sister. I’d love to visit, Cole. I don’t want to go the whole break without seeing you.”

  “Yeah. Well...” He roughly cleared his throat. “Cool.”

  Cole pulled back and strode off quickly like he thought I would chase him and get him to blush some more.

  Tempting but I promised to watch Mitch’s battle. I’ll corner him later.

  A voice in my ear broke me out of my thoughts.

  “Ready to go?”

  I threaded my arm around the crook of Adam’s elbow. “Let’s go.”

  We left the dorm building and crossed the lawn for the natatorium. I helped with the academic part, but I left improving Mitch’s swim game to Adam. I kept my time in the swim building to a minimum and Adam was better at it anyway. I was happy to let him take over.

  Coach Nelson was the only one inside when we came in. He saw us, pointed toward the bleachers, and then returned to his clipboard without a word.

  “How do you think he’ll do?”

  “Mitch improved his swim time,” replied Adam, “but he’s going up against Carter Renault. He’s on my team and he’s good. It’s going to come down to the academic test.” He bumped my shoulder. “I hope you taught him well.”

  “He’ll do fine. Mitch aced the last two practice tests I gave him.”

  The Mitch in question strode inside with two teachers and Carter. He waved happily when he spotted us.

  “He looks really excited for a C that is about to go up against an A,” Adam said out of the corner of his mouth.

  “He’s confident he can win. He told me all he needed was a little help from the Battle Doctor.” I motioned between us. “Battle Doctors.”

  “Damn if that’s not a cool title though.”