Seven
Fox
Watching Maisy search through her bag three times the following week for the assignment due makes me want to laugh. It’s a big one, a research paper worth a percentage of the grade. She’s putting on a good show of appearing calm, but I can see the gears turning in her head going from confused to frantic.
Look all you want, it’s not there.
I shredded that shit, then stashed it in the shiny white Audi Q7 she drove to school today. She’s in for a nasty surprise when she discovers the gift I left her. It was child’s play to swipe the research paper from under her nose this morning when she was pretending to pay attention to her preppy boyfriend’s recap of what he plans to pick for his fantasy football league.
The teacher, a pinch-faced older woman who always looks like she just caught a whiff of dog shit, stalks back and forth along the front row of desks. Maisy tucks her head lower as she goes through her bag for a fourth time while I stretch out in my seat beside hers, swiping a hand over my mouth to hide my amusement.
“I know I put it in here,” she mumbles.
A vicious streak of satisfaction shoots through me. I’m still angry she showed up at the tree last week. Finding Holden’s car parked there as I turned down the road made me furious, but when I saw her long honey-brown hair blowing in the wind I saw red. She deserves this and more.
Our teacher stops in front of Maisy’s desk and raises her brows. “Are you prepared for class, Miss Landry?”
“Yes.”
“Then hand in your research paper. Everyone else is prepared. You’re holding us up and I don’t have all day to wait for whatever excuse you’re going to give me next.”
A round of titters sounds through the room. Maisy’s shoulders hunch at the weight of their eyes on her. She’s not familiar with being under a negative spotlight from the teacher and it shows in the discomfort radiating from her.
She drags her teeth over her lip. “Right. I just…seem to have misplaced it. Maybe it’s in my locker.”
The teacher rolls her eyes. “Like I haven’t heard that one a thousand times in forty years,” she mutters, crossing her arms and leveling Maisy with an unimpressed look. “This certainly isn’t behavior I expect from you. Just because you’ve already been accepted to colleges doesn’t mean you should slack off. Your final class rank and GPA will reflect in your transcripts.”
Whispers break out among the other students in the class and Maisy shifts in her chair, clearly uncomfortable. All this humiliating attention is getting to her, showing who she is behind the curtain—not the girl at the top of the class who seems perfect in every way. The corners of my mouth tip into a callous sneer.
“I know.” She rifles through her things again, brow furrowed. “It was really here, I swear.”
As Maisy grows flustered over her mysteriously missing research paper, she catches my smirk while I play with a pen. Realization dawns on her face and the curve of my mouth sharpens.
“I’ll print off a new copy and turn it in tomorrow,” she says in quiet defeat.
You can try.
I fiddle with my phone when it vibrates with a text I’ve been waiting for.
Colt: Hard drive is toast, nice and crispy [GIF of a marshmallow roasting over a fire]
A quiet huff of triumphant humor leaves me. It catches Maisy’s attention and she flashes me another accusatory look, her hazel eyes burning. There’s nothing she can do but take what I dish out to her. Even if she tried to get back at me for this, the faculty wouldn’t touch me. She has no way to fight what’s coming to her.
It almost makes me feel bad. Almost, but not quite. Because all I see when I look at her is my childhood best friend at eight, with her eyes bright and cheeks flushed as she fucking promised—
My fist clenches beneath the desk. No. There’s no feeling sorry for the crybaby. She made her choice and now she’ll pay for it.
“It’ll be marked late,” the teacher says before moving on, stopping in front of me. She lifts a skeptical brow. “I suppose you think you’re above the final weeks of school as well, Mr. Wilder?”
“Not at all, miss.”
She blinks in surprise at my response. The teachers here have grown to expect me being a silent dick all the time, but I’m not here for them. I’m only here for her.
Eyes locked with Maisy’s, I hand over my assignment—which is really her paper, reworked a little. If she does manage to remember some of what she wrote and turn her project in, she’ll be flagged for plagiarism and fail. It will be another hard hit to her class ranking and a black mark on her academic record that her college will frown on.
“Well.” The teacher scans the first page and nods. “At least you finally put some effort into your school work. Better late than never.”
That’s right, miss. Maisy Landry does good work.
Not that I give a damn about the grade—it’s just taking it from her that brings me the sick satisfaction I care about. Just like I’ll take everything else away.
As our teacher carries the stack of papers back to her desk, Maisy stares at me. I rake my gaze over her. She huffs and turns in her desk to face the front, probably wondering what the hell happened to her assignment.
This is all petty shit in the grand scheme of things. Compared to what I’ve done when I lived in Thorne Point with Colton and Wren’s crew, it’s nothing. But it’s all according to my new plan. Maisy is a rusted chain, ready to snap. I took care of Holden first, but she’s more satisfying to break, slowly chipping away piece by piece until the fake good girl crumbles before me.
And she’ll know without a doubt it was me crushing her to dust.
Eight
Maisy
This place is descending into madness, I swear. Eyes have burned into me in all my morning classes, eager for the show when I search my bag for assignments due only to find they aren’t there. I’ve never been unprepared for class or turned my work in late once in my life, not even in kindergarten. Missing one paper is one thing, but every piece of homework due today isn’t where it should be in my bag and I’m getting really sick of the muffled laughter behind my back.
At lunch I slip out to the parking lot, avoiding the snarky whispers that follow in my wake. I hope my research paper is there. It could’ve slipped out of my bag in Holden’s Audi and I didn’t notice. Please let that be the case.
Turning it in late is already going to be a hit to my grade point average. I’ll still be in the top five percent, but Mom only cares about me maintaining number one. It makes her look good if I’m Valedictorian when I graduate, and if I lose that spot? Goodbye road trip I’ve been working so hard to convince her and Dad to let me take.
When I reach the car, I open the door and immediately rear back from the smell that hits me. “Ugh! What the hell?”
It’s awful, the entire interior reeks of rotting fruit and sickly sweet soda, baked for hours in the car under the hot summer sun. This has to have been like this for a while, after I got to school. Sam met me at the car this morning and talked my ear off before we turned to walk inside together. It probably happened right after.
The driver’s seat is covered in trash and rotten debris. Banana peels so ripe they’re black are dumped into the cup holders of the center console and apple cores spill off the seat to the floor.
Holding my nose from the awful trash-plus-heat sauna stench, I pick up one of the banana peels and drop it to the ground with a revolted jolt. It’s sticky. I wipe my hand on my plaid uniform skirt and scrunch up my face in dismay.
On closer inspection when I prod the black interior seats, they’re soaked with the soda that was dumped over this whole mess. From the seats to the wheel to the dash, everything is covered in so much soda that whoever played this prank on me must have been prepared with several bottles. And mixed in with it all is a pile of shredded paper. One corner pokes out and through the smeared print, I can make out the title of my research paper.
Now I know where it went
.
Groaning under my breath, I dig around in the back seat for a bag, then hunt down extra napkins from the glove compartment, glad Holden and I grabbed burgers at our favorite place yesterday. My nose wrinkles as I swipe the trash into the bag and clean up the soda as best as I can. It will need to go through a full detail service to really take care of it. Holden’s going to kill me. I’ll be lucky if he ever lets me use his car again. It will leave me completely stranded and at the mercy of others who can offer me rides.
Tears well in my eyes as I dump the trash in the can at the edge of the parking lot, right next to the vending machines where the culprit most likely bought the soda. What did I do to deserve this? Nothing warrants this.
There’s only one person here who hates me enough to come at me like this. After swiping angrily at my eyes, my fingers clutch the braided leather bracelet, nails scraping over the stones woven into it. Stones I love because they’re special to me.
Damn Fox Wilder. He’s not going to beat me. He wants me to break and cry for him, but I’m not running just because he’s put a target on my back.
Trudging back up the steps, past the school sign flanked by the SLHS coyote mascot statues, I head for lunch. As soon as I walk through the door, I stall. Every eye on the room is on me and conversations lull to a stop. It’s weird and disconcerting knowing an entire room full of people were probably talking about you behind your back until you happen to walk in.
At the back corner of the room, Fox sits by himself, scowling at his phone.
My smile is wobbly, but I pull it into place like armor as I walk deeper into the room. The conversations slowly begin to pick up again.
Sam isn’t in my lunch period, so I usually float around from table to table. I’ve always been kind and polite, but never made many friends in my own grade. The people I talk to are more like acquaintances. Today that divide feels more isolating than ever.
It doesn’t hit me until now, with the rumors getting worse, how much I’ve kept myself separated from my classmates. I have no close allies I can trust because all of my true friends graduated last year. I miss lunches in the courtyard with Thea, Connor, Blair, and Devlin.
“Hey, Maisy, right? Come here for a minute.”
I pause by the table of rowdy guys. Some of them are on the soccer and football teams, some are just jock by association. The one who stopped me is a guy I recognize from Jenna’s party.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I say, tucking my wariness behind a mask of sweetness.
His friends elbow him and they shush each other, chuckling to themselves. I want to take a step back, but I hold my ground.
“So,” the guy from the party drawls. I’m pretty sure he hangs out with Sam. “You free Friday night? I heard you and Sam Blake broke up.”
“I have to volunteer at the library on Friday, then I teach yoga classes until pretty late.” I shrug and tilt my head. “So I’m not free, sorry.”
“That’s cool, later is better for me.” He gives me a flirtatious once over. “I’ll pick you up and we can go up to Peak Point.”
My shoulders stiffen as his buddies make lewd noises. Peak Point is Ridgeview’s notorious makeout spot, a lookout point in the mountains where everyone parks in the shadows to hump in their cars.
“What?” My tone is frosty, but they don’t notice, too busy congratulating each other while their friend propositions me.
“Don’t be shy, baby.” He stares openly at my breasts. What a pig. “I want the wildcat you were at Jenna’s party. The easy one, not the prude.”
There’s nothing I can do to stop the way my body jerks in response. These rumors are out of control.
“You’ve got the wrong girl,” I say, crossing my arms, no longer willing to play nice. “My answer is still no.”
“Don’t be a cock tease, those lips are begging to suck my dick.”
Fuck this.
If I wasn’t doing everything to make sure my parents let me go on the road trip, I’d deck this guy. Screw peace and love, he totally deserves a fist in his face to wipe off that smug look he thinks is so sexy. With a tight smile, I turn away.
“Hey! I wasn’t done talking to you!” he calls after me. “Don’t ignore me, bitch!”
Glancing around the room, I’m struck by the amount of attention on me from the surrounding tables. Beyond that, Fox watches all of this go down from the corner of the room, no longer occupied on his phone. His expression turns hard once my gaze sweeps over him.
How much did he hear?
The guy’s friends at his rowdy table join in, slinging names at me. Slut. Easy. Prude. Bitch. The chants catch on until the whole room is shouting.
Which is it, guys?
Eyes stinging, I stare back at Fox.
Take a good look. You turned me into the crybaby. Are you happy now?
Again, I clutch my wrist, covering the leather braided bracelet carrying the stones he gave me. Neither of my bracelets make me feel strong right now. The one with the stones Fox found on the beach during our vacation used to make me believe in anything. After he was gone, wearing it felt like it was my last connection to him. I’d whisper my dreams to it at night as if I was talking to him. It made me feel close to him.
A tear slips down my cheek, then another. Mean laughter echoes around me, but I keep staring at Fox. He leans back against the wall in his corner, kicking one booted foot on the bench seat. His smirk is savage.
For the first time ever, I consider ripping off the bracelet I’ve worn since I was a little girl and throwing it down at his feet.
Nine
Fox
By the end of the day, it hasn’t gotten old. We only share a handful of classes together, when I bother to show up. But this idea is way more gratifying than I first thought.
I’m surprised she’s still standing after the lunch room turned on her. It just means she can take more and it sends a sick sense of satisfaction through me.
As Maisy sits in World History, staring helplessly into her bag like it’ll give her answers, I stifle a silent laugh that shakes my shoulders. Petty playground bullshit or not, this is fun. More fun than I’ve had in years. The more she gets worked up, the more I enjoy the show.
“Did the dog eat your homework?” I taunt, making sure she’s watching as I put another paper with my name and her effort in the basket on the teacher’s desk.
Maisy stiffens, darting her gaze away. After all the other students hand in their assignments while she remains seated, red as a tomato, I saunter back to my seat, this time right behind her. I’m in such a good mood, I can’t resist giving the ends of her hair a tug and she whips around to glare at me.
“What is your problem?” she snaps.
The corner of my mouth lifts. It’s another crack in her calm, kind facade if she’s showing some spirit to bite back. She waits, but I don’t have anything else to say to her. Crossing my arms over my chest until my leather jacket creaks, I lean back and give her a cool stare.
Squinting, she leans toward me over my desk, hissing under her breath through clenched teeth. “You’re behind this. It’s got you written all over it. I’m getting sick of these pranks.”
“Behind what?”
Her mouth tightens and her knuckles turn white as she grips the back of her chair. “You stole my homework. All of it. I thought you wanted nothing to do with me?”
A girl in the next row does a double take when she realizes there’s drama stirring and who it’s between. We’re drawing more eyes on us as the teacher writes out the schedule for the upcoming final exams on the chalkboard.
“Or maybe...” Moving too fast for her to register before I’m in her face, I grab the side of her neck and clamp down hard so she can’t move. The sharp inhale she sucks in is music to my ears. “You’re just making excuses because you’re tired of being such a fucking goody-goody all the time.”
Hushed voices sound all around us while Maisy’s breathing turns harsh and strained. I tilt my head, studying her. Her
eyes have gone wide and she seems on the verge of breaking. Just one more push…
“Come on, you can’t keep fooling us,” I croon. “It’s what everyone’s thinking. They all know you’re a liar. It’s what your locker says this week, right?”
“No!”
Maisy shoves away hard, breaking my hold on her. Her desk topples to the side with the force. The room shrinks away, my world narrowing down to the girl who broke my heart and ripped my life apart.
I shoot to my feet and grab her shoulders, digging my fingers into her blazer. “What’s wrong? Does the truth hurt?”
At all the commotion, the teacher whirls around with a shout. “What the hell is going on here? We’re in class!”
Shock ripples over Maisy’s features. She glances around, realizing how many phones are trained on us, probably recording. Paling, she turns to the red-faced teacher. He stalks down the aisle of desks to reach us.
“Get your hands off her, Wilder. What’s gotten into you, Miss Landry?”
The teacher spares me a disgruntled look, then unloads all his disappointment on the little liar in my grip. I hold on for another beat, just to prove I’m in control. He doesn’t ask me again. I let her go and she shrinks back a step while I stand my ground.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Brewer.” Maisy’s back to her fucking simpering mask, casting her gaze at the floor demurely. It pisses me off more than usual. “I didn’t mean to make a scene.”
“This kind of behavior is unacceptable. Disrupting class, fighting.” He shakes his head, peering between us. “School policy deems fighting on school grounds a suspendable offense. But…” His glare softens when it leaves me and lands on Maisy. “Seeing as it’s the first time you’ve been involved in this kind of trouble, I’ll let you off with detention. That goes for both of you, everyday for the next week.”
Savage Wilder: Dark New Adult High School Bully Romance (Sinners and Saints Book 4) Page 7
