School of Broken Souls

by C. R. Jane

  Against my better judgment, I crawl into bed with him. I try to keep my distance, but he throws an arm around me and yanks me towards him so that I’m cuddled up against his body. It’s crazy how being this near to him makes my heartbeat go wild.

  My parents were loving growing up, but they weren’t big into physical affection whether it was towards me or whether it was towards each other. A part of me craves human contact like this, the kind that fills up some of the empty spaces inside of you and makes you feel not so alone. I can’t stop myself from snuggling in closer to him. Alexander just smells so good. Like nothing I’ve experienced before. I want to bottle it up and carry it with me everywhere. It’s just that good.

  “Why are you here?” I ask, my voice muffled because I’m currently buried against Alexander’s chest.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I’ve been hearing that a lot lately,” I say.

  He laughs and like a lovesick fool I soak up the sound. Despite the fact that my interactions with him are fraught with tension, I feel closer to him than I did with the others. There’s just something about him that speaks to me.

  “Do you ever feel like you’re trapped by your life?” he asks softly, his fingers gently skimming against my neck sending shivers across my entire body.

  “All the time,” I whisper back thinking of the bullying at my old school and my dad’s sickness that’s currently trapping me in this life.

  Although at the moment, Raven Academy doesn’t seem so bad.

  “Do you feel trapped?” I ask him, wondering what on earth he could be troubled by. He has everything you could ever want in life.

  “All the time,” he says in a sad voice, echoing my words. There’s a silence after that. My mind races trying to figure out this boy.

  “Is it your family?” I finally ask tentatively.

  “There’s certain expectations that come with who I am and who my family is. Expectations that I hate. They’re going to make me into something that I’m not. Something that I don’t want to be.”

  “There’s always a choice,” I say naively, wanting to comfort him somehow.

  He laughs, but this time it’s a bitter, pained laugh. I hate it.

  “Believe me. If there was a different choice, I would take it.”

  “Is it going to hurt you?” I ask, trying to get some clue as to what he is talking about.

  “Just my soul,” he says, again giving me that bitter laugh. “It’s going to hurt other people though, hurt people that I’m starting to care about.”

  It almost sounds like he’s talking about me. But why would his family care about hurting me? It didn’t make any sense.

  His soft strokes across my neck grow fainter and fainter and soon his breathing steadies out, signaling that he’s fallen asleep. I lift my head like the creeper that I am to watch him for a moment. He’s a totally different guy when he’s sleeping. Almost like an angel with how peaceful and perfect he looks. His skin appears so smooth that it’s almost like he’s not real. Like he’s actually carved from marble.

  He’s so far out of my league.

  I let my head fall back against his chest, wanting to savor the moment just a little longer. Soon, I find myself relaxing against him, until I too am joining him in our dream worlds.

  When I wake up, he’s gone. I feel overwhelmingly sad. I just want to go back to sleep. I shouldn’t feel this way over a stupid boy, practically a stranger. But I do.

  I turn towards my pillow and practically cry when I realize that it’s coated in his scent. I inhale like an addict who needs her fix.

  I’m a mess.

  It takes me an hour to get up out of bed. I’m supposed to meet Mercy for dinner, and I need to get ahold of myself before I do. Looking in the mirror, I’m shocked to see how worn out I look. My eyes are blood-shot, and my skin is pale. You would think that I hadn’t just slept for several hours. I look worse than I did after the party.

  Shuddering and praying that I’m not getting sick, I hastily try and pull myself together. Minutes later, I’m out in the hallway, headed to dinner.

  “Ms. Jones,” comes a voice suddenly, making me jump since I thought the hallway was empty.

  I look up. Its Principal Asher. So far, I haven't had any interactions with him. I wouldn't even know who he was if Mercy hadn’t pointed him out one day to me as he watched the students walk down the hallway. Since then I have seen him multiple times as he scouts the hallway for trouble, but I haven’t ever had to talk to him.

  “Hello Principal Asher,” I say politely. He’s an intimidating man. Always wearing a suit, his ebony black hair is never out of place. He’s also abnormally pale, like he hasn’t been out in the sun ever in his life. His pale skin makes a stark contrast with his dark hair. He’s not someone you forget.

  “We haven't had a chance to talk yet. I just was wondering how your time at Raven Academy has been going?” he asks, staring at me with eyes that are such a dark brown they almost look black.

  It would be nice to tell someone besides Mercy about what my time at Raven Academy had actually been like, but obviously Principal Asher isn’t that person. “It’s been fine,” I finally say, showing him what I hope looks like an authentic smile.

  He puts a hand on my shoulder, and all of a sudden, the interaction doesn’t feel as innocent as it did before.

  “I just want you to know that you can always come to me if you’re having problems here. We want you to be happy,” he says with a squeeze before finally pulling his hand off of me.

  The conversation doesn’t feel sexual, but it does feel creepy. I wonder if he goes out of his way to say things like this to the other students. I desperately want to get away.

  “I appreciate that, Principal Asher. I’ll definitely come to you if anything happens,” I respond, hoping that I sound truthful even though alarms are blaring in my head warning me to do my best to stay as far away as possible from this man.

  He peers at me for a second before delicately sniffing the air. His eyes briefly close as if he’s savoring whatever he can smell.

  What is it with the oddballs at this school and smells? I try to sniff the air inconspicuously, but I don’t smell anything.

  His eyes open again suddenly, and I almost jump again since it looks like his pupils have expanded. “Have a good rest of the day, Ms. Jones,” he says quickly before striding off as if he had a meeting to go to that he had forgotten about.

  A shiver of unease passes over me. Something tells me that Principal Asher and his sudden interest in me is not good news.

  Chapter 12

  “They were going at it all night. Bed was creaking so damn loud, it kept me awake for most of the night,” Mercy whispers as we make our way down the hallway, her eyes on the blond in front us with legs for miles. Bethanie always wears her hair in a braid though. Coupled with her braces and glasses, she hides behind a nerdy look, but she’s beautiful. I’ve never seen her talk to anyone, let alone a guy, so I’m struggling to believe she’d get down and dirty with one.

  “You really think she’d do that?” I mumble back.

  “Well either she was on the rollercoaster of her life, or she was reenacting the exorcist last night.”

  I shake my head as some days I’m unsure of what I can or can’t believe from Mercy. As I watch Bethanie hug her textbook to her chest, her shoulders curling forward as if she’s trying to hide from the world, I’m guessing today is the latter.

  “Maybe she was having a slumber party.”

  We step into English class and as usual, Ms. Hickle isn’t there. She’s late to every session but I’m used to it now and it gives me more time to chat with Mercy.

  “Trust me, if she was having a party, I would’ve been invited. Something weird is going on with her.”

  We head to the back of the room. On the way, we pass a girl with a pixie haircut who’s glaring at me like I just killed someone. She sticks out her leg in front of me as we pass her, and I stumble, my foot hooking on
hers.

  I catch my balance with racing breath. “Watch out,” I call out, but when I meet her gaze, her eyes are tossing daggers at me.

  “Keep your octopus legs to yourself,” Mercy blurts before rushing to my side.

  “What’s her problem?” And that’s when I look around the class and see that every single freaking eye is on me. Clarissa twists around to look at me with a huge smile, enjoying herself. I can see the satisfaction in her eyes.

  What has she done?

  Mercy scans the room. We both slide into our seats and exchange confused looks. Have I missed the let’s talk about Adi memo today?

  Everyone is whispering to each other, looking my way, laughing. Some are even pointing at me. I’ve faced a lot of ridicule in my life because I was poor, or because I wore the cheap branded shoes, or even just because I walked down the wrong corridor at this school. Still, being at the center of such a storm leaves me unsettled. Their stares bore into me; their murmurs are like poison in my ears.

  The class is made up of both scholarship and non-scholarship students but today there’s no sign of Alexander and his pack. It shouldn’t matter, but after our encounter in the woods and their attention lately, I don’t want them to see this weak side of me. Maybe I’m kidding myself to think I can ever fully escape the constant hatred I face no matter where I go. If I’m not being ignored, someone is shoving me around.

  I’ve had enough.

  “What?” I blurt out to the class.

  “Yeah,” Mercy follows suit. “What are you looking at?”

  In response, Clarissa climbs to her feet.

  “Let me help you remember.” She grabs a phone out of her pocket and clicks on the buttons.

  I’m dumbfounded, and Mercy shrugs, wearing a puzzled expression.

  We wait, and nerves are dancing in my gut because nothing that comes from Clarissa can be good, I just can’t work out what she could possibly have planned now.

  “Listen carefully.” Clarissa turns the volume up high on her phone, stabs the screen, and then sticks out the phone so everyone can hear it.

  There is static at first, and I’m scrunching my nose trying to make anything out. But then we hear moans start from a male. My pulse is racing as hundreds of scenarios are spinning in my head on what I’m listening to, most pointing to her having taped me while I was with one of the guys at the forest party...not that I can remember anything sexual happening.

  “Oh, Mr. Dusk, that’s so big.” The voice is mine but rough, and I ice over at how terrible that sounds out of context. I remember the conversation when I talked about the new textbooks he handed out in class. That bitch was taping me?

  “Yes, take it in your mouth, just like that. Good girl, Adeline.”

  I gasp and slap a hand to my chest out of pure shock. My body shudders, part of me on pause as my mind tries to catch up on what I’m listening to.

  No, this can’t be happening.

  “That’s not real,” I mumble, finally finding my voice. But all warmth drops through my body, leaving me vacant and cold.

  “Clarissa, you’re a liar!” Mercy cries out.

  But everyone is already whispering and looking at me like I’m a monster, the school slut who sleeps with a teacher for higher grades.

  “Just like that, yes,” Mr. Dusk moans, his voice in rapture. “Adeline, don’t stop.”

  A sense of disgust wells deep inside me, expanding within me. A voice of repulsion circles my mind. Bile hits the back of my throat and I’m going to be sick.

  Clarissa is laughing, the damn recording still playing of Mr. Dusk groaning while there’s a slurping sound in the background.

  “Turn it off!” I roar and jolt to my feet. “It’s fake. You’re revolting for thinking this is funny.”

  Only Mercy stands by my side, the others start laughing even harder.

  “If only this was a joke.” Clarissa smirks with evil in her eyes. Her hatred for me is obsessive.

  Anger boils deep inside me, desperate for destruction, I march toward Clarissa before I can think through my actions. The inferno taking me over, drives me, churns me to make her pay, to show everyone she set me up. For those few moments, I let darkness swallow me, wanting her to suffer.

  I knock the phone out of her grip with a backhand, and it goes flying across the room before hitting the wall.

  She turns on me like an enraged lion, shoulders hitching up, hatred twisting her face.

  Everyone is making ooing sounds, but they fade away, and only Clarissa and I exist.

  She feeds off my misery, her ego boosting at my expense.

  I clench my fists, trembling, hating she put me in this spot.

  She’s shouting lies about me to the class. “You’re a slut,” she spits. “And that’s a nice wig you’re wearing. What’s it made of? You really think that Alexander would ever be interested in someone like you. You’re just an obsessive nobody.”

  “We all know that was actually you on that tape,” I declare, and the sudden flick of fear zips across her gaze, chased away by a burning rage. The truth floats between us, but she turns to the class, sprouting more lies.

  I crack my fingers, my gaze on the floor, my mind on fire. She pushes and pushes me. Taking everything, and I’ve had enough. My first mistake with Alexia was backing down. I never struck back, and I let her walk all over me. If I do that here, they’ll never stop.

  Never.

  Raising my head, I curl my hands into fists and face Clarissa head on, not averting my gaze, but holding her in mine like an iron grip.

  “You bitch,” I scream at her. But no one seems to hear me. I shove a hand into her back in frustration.

  She swings back around, and her fist connects with my face, so fast and unexpected, I totter backward and stumble over a chair, bringing it down with me with a thud.

  The class explodes with a chant, “Fight, fight.”

  My vision blurs, the pain stabs me across the bridge between my eyes, and blood trickles from my nose.

  She snarls and turns to collect her phone.

  A blur bursts past me, and Mercy leaps onto her back, an arm looped around her neck while she tugs on her hair.

  The cheers around us explode.

  I can’t sit back and watch though. I scramble to my feet and rush after my friend because this is my fight.

  Mercy is thrown off with ease, and a sudden moment of terror captures me as Clarissa turns on me, her eyes almost taking on a black appearance. She no longer looks like herself. I’ve never punched anyone, but when she lunges for me, I grab for the closest thing, a textbook.

  She’s fast though, so freaking fast. She shoves a hand into my chest before I can hit her with the book. I stumble backward, my legs failing under me. Her hand jerks forward and grasps my neck, squeezing. My lungs lock up. I drop the book.

  With her other hand, she rakes nails over my face and neck. “Let’s see them like you now,” she murmurs. “No one will ever love you.”

  I’m clawing at her hand, so strong, my lungs burning for oxygen, while the class watches. A shadow towers behind Clarissa and its Mercy with a huge textbook over her head that she smashes across Clarissa’s head.

  Clarissa releases me at once, and I stagger free, gasping for air.

  Mercy is at my side, rubbing my back. “Are you okay?”

  “She tried to kill me,” I breathe and glance up to see Clarissa wobbling on her feet as she rubs the top of her head.

  Mercy pulls something from her pocket and opens her fist, revealing her switchblade. “Want me to hit her with my knife?”

  “Pretty sure the word is stab, but I’d rather you not go to jail.”

  She hands me a small wad of tissues, and I wipe my bloody nose, then touch my burning cheek. Several scratches mark the skin. I grab my phone and switch on the camera before looking at the damage, the blushing flesh, the three lines of broken skin. No blood, but they’ll scab over nonetheless.

  “What is going on here?” Ms. Hickle stands a
t the front of the class, her hands gripping her hips, and her face flush.

  Everyone rushes back to their seats, and Mercy drags me to ours, while Clarissa crosses the room to collect her phone.

  “Is there a problem?” Ms. Hickle asks.

  “Not feeling well,” Clarissa lies.

  “Well, you better head to the nurse’s room then.”

  Clarissa strolls across the room and raises her eyes to meet mine, and behind them is the promise of revenge. Retribution. I swallow hard. I don’t plan on becoming her punching bag. And especially not with my friend by my side.

  But once she’s gone and we settle in for a class, I catch the students in class glancing back at me, judging me, believing the lies.

  The earlier sickness churns through me at the thought of everyone assuming I gave Mr. Dusk a blowjob.

  I barely hear a word during class, lost in my own nightmare. The hurt is a spiderweb with intricate lines of deceit threading through me, reminding me of the voiceover Clarissa created. Did Mr. Dusk know she used him in a way that can get him disbarred from teaching? Or doesn’t she care?

  After class, Mercy and I push our way through the crowds, and I keep my head low. But I hear the words playing on the air. Slut. Mr. Dusk. Recording. Blow job.

  I cringe, ready to scream, and tears prick my eyes. How can this be happening? What if the other teachers get hold of the so-called evidence? What if Professor London hears it? What if I get kicked out?

  That thought has me hiccupping my breaths because my dad’s life depends on me staying here. I swipe away a tear escaping from the corner of my eye, unsure how this got so out of control.

  Mercy is at my side, wrapping her arm around mine. “Don’t listen to them. It’ll blow over and the truth always comes out.”

  “But how long will that take?”

  Her mouth opens with a response when her gaze swings to someone behind me. I turn, half expecting Clarissa in attack mode, but instead I meet his cold blue eyes.

  Alexander’s still smoldering beneath his stony expression. “Crazy, get out of here,” he commands, and my friend’s grasp slips from mine.