by Jordan Ford
I shudder and press my back against the wall, fighting an intense sting of tears.
I’m not going to cry right now.
Boys don’t cry.
Clenching my jaw, I force my gaze away from the get it on dance floor and once again am locking gazes with Ivan. A chill prickles my skin. It’s weird that he hasn’t approached me since returning from Thanksgiving break. Every day I’m waiting for him to pounce. His dark looks are unsettling.
I sidestep and hide behind a group of girls who are gossiping together.
“He’s so hot.”
“So, go ask him to dance.”
“No way. Like he’d ever want to.”
“Come on, Megs, you can do it.”
Her cheeks flame red and she glances over her shoulder, spotting me listening in on the conversation.
I clear my throat and scratch the back of my neck, not wanting to draw attention to myself.
“Do you want to dance?” she asks, sizing me in a way that screams, ‘I’m too scared to go after the guy I want but your scrawny ass will do.’
“No, thanks,” I mutter, no doubt killing her confidence as I make a beeline for the door.
I can’t do this anymore.
Between being flirted with, settled for, cheated on (sort of, not really, but it feels like it!) and glared at, I’m done.
Ivan can stick it.
I’m not letting him intimidate me anymore tonight.
With a huff, I slip out the door and head into the quiet corridor, relief flooding through me the farther I get from the dance.
#28:
The Most Important Person In The Room
Trey
Sophia finally pulls back for air. Thank God. It’s like she was trying to suction my lips off. I press them together and force a closed-mouth smile, wondering how much longer the song has to go. As soon as it’s over, I’m heading to the drinks table to subtly check on Chris.
Glancing over my shoulder, I do a double-take when I notice she’s no longer there. Spinning Sophia around, I angle us to face different directions around the room as I hunt for the one I really want.
She’s not there.
My chest restricts and I shift to Kade and his groupies.
“You seen Chris?” I yell over their heads.
Kade gives me a shrug like he doesn’t care.
“Who’s Chris?” Sophia asks.
I ignore her and turn to Riley, but he’s otherwise occupied. I doubt he saw anything.
Clearing my throat, I glance down at Sophia when she repeats her question.
“Oh, he’s uh…a new guy. Just trying to look out for him.”
“Awwww, that’s so sweet.” She tips her head, her eyes gooey with affection.
I’m not interested.
I feel like a hard-ass for even thinking that. Sophia’s sweet, but I’m not interested in sweet. I want feisty banter, kisses that make my blood boil, eyes that make me want to melt right into them.
I want Chris.
The music shifts to a different song and I pat Sophia’s waist and mumble, “I’m just gonna…” I point to the door and take my leave.
I can feel her eyes on me as I weave my way out of the room, but then the sensation of being watched shifts from a mildly confused stare to an obsidian glare that makes my skin crawl. I glance behind me and spot Ivan. His eyes gleam as he studies me.
I scowl straight back and then shift away, making sure I zigzag into the hall through several groups of people before slipping out a side door.
As soon as I’m out, I start sprinting, racing around to the front and trying to find Chris.
I want to pretend I don’t know why she left, but I do. I know exactly why she split and in retrospect, I guess she had every right to. If she’d been making out with some guy on the dance floor, I would’ve been seriously pissed. I couldn’t have handled it. I would have been ripping that guy off her faster than I could think straight.
“Shit,” I mutter, annoyed with my warped thinking that playing pretend was the right move.
I stop in the outside corridor, looking through the darkness for signs of her.
I don’t want to yell “Chris” and draw attention to myself. She’s most likely heading back to her room, but which way? We’re not supposed to go to the dorms while the dance is on. The restricted area is pretty damn vast when there’s a school function. Teachers will be patrolling the corridors like prison guards.
I grit my teeth and head right, sticking to the shadows as I creep along the outside corridor, past the big stone pillars. I think I can hear faint footsteps in front of me, so I pick up my pace to a light jog. As I make it around the corner, I see a door creeping shut.
Running for it, I duck through and am lucky enough to find her heading for the stairs.
“Chris.” I whisper her name, sharp and clear.
She freezes on the bottom step, then swivels back to glare at me. “Leave me alone.”
“Come on.” I reach for her but she whips her arm out of my reach.
“Shouldn’t you be making out with Big Boobs right now? Why are you even here?”
With a little growl, I snatch her arm and pull her off the steps, catching her against me and carrying her into the shadows. I place her feet on the floor and press her back against the wall.
She struggles, trying to wriggle away, but I grab her wrists and pin them against the wood, holding her steady.
“Quit it,” I whisper. “Just hear me out.”
“No, you asshat. I don’t want to listen to you!”
“I wasn’t kissing her because I wanted to.”
“Oh, please. Just save it!”
I lean in close, the tips of our noses brushing as I whisper-bark at her. “I couldn’t act different. If I didn’t play along, everyone would have known something was up. I had to keep my eyes off you and pretend like you weren’t the most important person in the room!”
She goes still, her swallow audible in the quiet space.
I can’t see her clearly in the darkness. Moonlight filters in through the top window but it’s not reaching us. Slowly letting go of her wrists, I find her face, running the pads of my fingers over her soft skin.
“If I could look at you the way I wanted, everyone would know how hard I’m falling, and we can’t afford those kinds of questions. We…” My voice trails off as her shaky breath hits my chin.
“You can’t fall for me.”
“Too late.” I find her mouth easily, pressing her back against the wall and kissing her like I want to.
She struggles and pushes against my shoulders, wrenching me away with a little whimper. “I can’t fall for you.”
“Too late?” I ask, soft and hopeful.
She lets out a shuddering sigh and I lean towards her again. I start out slow, brushing my lips over hers, teasing her mouth open with a languid tongue curl. She melts against me. Running my hands down her body, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her close. She grips my neck, tipping her head and giving me full access to the wonders of her mouth.
Her tongue has never tasted so sweet, her body never felt more right.
I want to lift her up, feel her legs wrap around my hips.
I want to carry her to my room and share something more.
But a cold prickle tickles the hairs on the back of my neck and I pull away.
Whipping around, I scan the darkness, searching for whatever the hell is unnerving me so bad. But I can’t see anything. I can’t hear anyone coming. There’s just this unsettling presence lurking in the air.
Chris wraps her fingers into my lapels and tugs me closer. I rest my hand on her neck. Her pulse is hammering as the creep factor gets the better of her too.
“Come on.” I take her hand, threading my fingers through hers. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I don’t want to go back,” she whispers.
“I know.” I kiss her forehead. “Let’s just go hang out in your room for a while.”
I t
ake her the long way round, leading us through shadows and quiet hallways. It’s like I’m trying to shake whatever was lurking behind us. Chris doesn’t seem to mind; she just holds my hand and lets me guide her.
About thirty minutes later, we’re creeping up the back stairs of the dorms. The dance will wrap up in the next half hour or so. If we get busted now, it won’t be quite so bad, but I release her hand before stepping into the hallway.
We shuffle past closed doors and turn into our corridor. My mind jumps to things we could do while we wait for the dance to end, but the thoughts quickly die as reality kicks in.
Dean Hancock has probably noticed that I’m gone, so he’ll no doubt be searching the school for me. I need to have a solid excuse ready and am halfway through formulating one when we reach Chris’s door and the smell hits me like a battering ram.
“Gross!” I pinch my nose and grimace.
Chris makes a face, sticking out her tongue before coving her mouth and nose. “What is that?”
I shake my head at the muffled question and push her door open.
My stomach churns with bile as I take in the absolute ruin that is her bedroom.
#29:
A Shit Storm
Christiana
“Holy shit,” I murmur, my tongue thick and barely functioning.
“You got that right.” Trey sighs, his face flaring with anger.
Pinching my nose a little tighter, I gaze around my room. Three cow patties are lined up on my bed, all smashed open and oozing. The walls have been painted with shit. I’m guessing cow, but there could be a little dog in there too. It’s like someone made a bucket of runny poo and waltzed in here with a paintbrush, flicking it across the walls and destroying the only place in this school where I can be myself.
Tears burn, but anger won’t let them fall. Rage is frothing in my belly and I have to lean against the doorframe to keep myself from falling.
“What am I gonna do?”
“Mr. Calloway!” Dean Hancock thunders down the hall. “And Mr. Lorden, I see! You are not supposed to be up here during…” His words disappear as he reaches us and gets hit with the vile smell.
His sharp nose wrinkles, his wide mouth pulling into a grimace. “What is going on in here?”
I glance up at his thundering face, half expecting him to blame it on me. But there must be something in my expression—or just plain logic, I guess—that makes his face soften with a look of sympathy.
“Do you have any idea who may have done this?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Ivan the Terrible.”
He rolls his eyes at my nickname, or maybe the fact he knows I’m right. Even so, he still mutters, “Do you have any proof?”
“Of course not,” I snap. “Last time I saw him, Ivan was at the dance.”
Dean Hancock’s mouth forms a grim line. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, we’ll move you to a different room until we can get this cleaned up.”
I go still, my eyes locking with Trey’s for a terrifying beat.
“Uh, sir, you know, Chris could bunk with us for a couple of nights. We could put a mattress on the floor, or…”
“Don’t be ridiculous. There’s an open room downstairs.”
“But—”
“I’m not going to stand here in this stench arguing with you, Mr. Calloway. Now, I know you and Chris have become friends these past few weeks but his parents insisted on him having his own room. Headmaster Williams promised them he wouldn’t be sharing, and I won’t be breaking that when there’s a perfectly good room downstairs.”
Trey huffs. “But it’s next to Ivan’s!”
The dean grits his teeth as if summoning some extra calm before replying. “I know you think he is responsible for this, but we have very strict rules about students entering each other’s rooms…especially after lights out. Now, Ivan is not stupid. Unlike you, he has never been caught outside his room after curfew, so I don’t think Chris has anything to worry about.” Standing tall, he pulls his shoulders back, ready for battle. “I will be investigating this matter very seriously and from past experience, you should know that anyone with half a brain is on his best behavior when I’m looking for a culprit.”
With a heavy sigh, Trey leans against the wall and looks away from the dean.
“Mr. Lorden, follow me. Mr. Calloway is going to go and find me a janitor.”
Trey and I share one more look of dread before he’s forced to do the dean’s bidding. I gaze up at Dean Hancock. He gives me a pointed look and tells me to hurry up.
I shuffle after him, my rage tempered by an overwhelming sense of foreboding. I can’t even explain it but there’s something about this walk downstairs that feels more like a death march.
#30:
Gone
Trey
I can’t sleep…again.
It took the janitors nearly three hours to clean up the room and it’s blocked off from entry until it’s been completely sterilized. All Chris’s stuff was taken down to her new room.
The dance was cut short. All the boys were hauled into the dining hall, where the dean went ape-shit looking for the culprit. His beady eyes drilled into each of us as he paced up and down the tables, trying to peel back lies and see who really did it.
No one said a word.
No one admitted to anything.
“I’ll be conducting further interviews in the morning.” His voice resonated across the room. “Now everyone is to go to their rooms, and no one is allowed off campus until I’ve sorted out this mess!”
There was a collective groan.
“The ban will lift as soon as the truth is revealed. Think about your fellow students and do the right thing.”
With that, the dean spun out of the hall and we all trudged back to our dorm rooms. I filled Riley and Kade in as we walked but they still wanted to peek their heads in and have a look. The cleaning crew barked us out of there. Their shouts were muffled by facemasks. They looked pretty pissed and I didn’t blame them.
The smell took a few hours to dissipate. If I inhale deeply, I can still detect a faint whiff of manure.
Assholes.
It had to be Ivan and his crew of idiots.
They’re gonna pay. Screw the third strike. I seriously want to smash heads.
Thumping the mattress, I let out a soft growl and roll on my side. I stare into the darkness, consumed by thoughts of Chris having to sleep next to Ivan’s room. She’ll get no shut-eye worrying about that creep. What if he tries to sneak in? Was that his plan? Make her room unlivable so she’d be forced down next to him?
I bolt upright, my breath catching in my throat as the idea nearly blinds me.
My heart’s thundering. I whip the covers back and shove my shoes on. Snatching my sweater, I creep past Kade’s snoring body and ease the door open.
The hall is dark and quiet. I didn’t check my watch, so I have no idea what time it is. Holding my breath, I sneak to the stairwell and gently make my way down. Ivan’s room is on the first corridor to the left. The downstairs door whines when I open it. I wince and go still, counting to ten while listening for feet.
Silence.
I stealth walk against the wall until I reach Chris’s new room, then gently tap the wooden panel.
“Chris,” I whisper. “It’s Trey.”
Turning the handle, I slip in and shut the door behind me.
Something’s not right.
It’s dark and I can’t see shit, but I know something’s not right.
Without thinking twice, I flick on the light and find her bed empty. The covers are flipped back like she got out of bed in a hurry. The flashlight I returned to her is missing, which means she’s probably gone to the showers. I tell myself it’s that simple as I switch the light back off and creep outside.
I’m not as careful as I run to the hockey rink.
I don’t know why I’m in such a rush. Something is driving me forward. A fear I can’t explain is eating my insides holl
ow.
As I climb through the window, I tell myself it’s nothing. I’m about to find the little hottie in the shower again. Heck, maybe I could join her.
I grin, but it dies on my lips the second my feet touch the floor.
The shower’s not running.
There’s a slow drip, but I can’t hear the movement of a body drying off or anything that would resemble Chris getting dressed.
Pushing the toilet door back, I walk down to the showers, looking for evidence of Chris in the murky light.
A shadowy pile near one stall catches my eye and I leap towards it. A damp towel, nothing too exciting. I pick it up with a huff and throw it towards the laundry basket. That’s when I notice the slick dampness left behind on my fingers.
Rubbing my thumb and middle digit together, I walk towards the window, hoping the moonlight can help me out. I gaze at the dark smudge on my fingers and my unsettled stomach bursts into flames.
My eyes bulge and I risk all, scrambling for the light and flicking it on so I can confirm my darkest fear.
Blood.
My hand is red with blood.
Running for the towel, I yank it out of the laundry basket and stretch it wide so I can get a better look. There’s a huge smudge on the middle of the towel, a red warning that’s making my knees buckle.
“Shit,” I whisper, spinning back around to look at the showers.
With the light on, I can see red droplets in the stall. The water in the bottom of the shower dilutes them. Weak red trails run towards the drain.
I grip the tiles and fight for air.
Chris’s sweater is crumpled on the floor. I snatch it up. A small piece of card flicks out from the fabric and sticks to the damp tiles. With a wrinkled frown, I scrape it up and flip it over.
It’s a photo.
A gorgeous girl with luscious locks of hair is grinning at the camera. She’s stunning—big hoops in her ears, multiple rings on her fingers, designer shirt. Her face is made up like a beauty queen, and her smile’s enough to power a city. The guy beside her is making a face at the camera, his tongue sticking out, his eyes crossed. His arm’s around her shoulders, holding her like she matters.
