Trinity High: High School Bully Romance

by Savannah Rose

  Last night, he managed to pull me further out of my shell than I’ve been pulled ever since my accident. Perfectly wrapped in shiny pink gift wrap, he presented me with what I’m sure was the first of many gifts. Somehow, he’d managed to sneak a moment to himself and, without me noticing, sent his assistant on her way to make the purchase.

  After opening the present, I was even more shocked than I had been when first presented with it. Leotards, and a pair of ballet shoes. I was close to hyperventilating. I didn’t want to put them on. It was already hard enough to look at them. But the look in Elias’ eyes. Jesus and Mary, the look in his eyes could make me do just about any goddamn thing. I didn’t understand it. I hated it. I wanted to run away from it. But when he locked his arms around me and whispered, “Dance for me, Kira,” I just about melted.

  For the first time in what felt like forever, I slipped into ballet gear and I stretched my body until there was nothing left to stretch. In the middle of his oversized bedroom, I didn’t just dance for Elias, I danced for myself. I danced like there was no one else in the room – no one to laugh, no one to cry, no one to judge. By the time I was done, completing my routine with the most perfect Fouetté, I felt nothing but pride. My mind didn’t spin. My body didn’t crave the Oxy. And my ankle didn’t scream at me in rebellion.

  Now, back at home, there’s that song by Katrina and the Waves, “Walking on Sunshine” playing on a loop in my head. My dad’s not home. I’m not sure how that matters. Maybe I’m afraid that he’ll see the glow on my face and know that Elias is one hundred percent responsible. Despite the fact that he’s playing the friend rather than the enemy, I know that his feud with Elias is far from being done.

  He won’t like the fact that I’m seeing Elias. I also have no intentions of telling him that that’s the case. But if he asks, I’m not sure I’ll deny it either.

  I slip into the shower, reveling in the foamy lather and cool water. My muscles are sore. My insides are tender, particularly my pussy. Elias sure knows how to pound me into oblivion. I love that about him. He’s rough and tender at the same time. He never puts himself before me. Elias will spend hours eating me out, just so he can watch me squirm and come and scream his name, over and over again.

  I push all thoughts of him away, knowing full well that I’ll spend forever and a half in the shower, trying to take off an edge that I shouldn’t have. Plus, today’s the day that I actually put my name on the audition list.

  The next hour is spent getting ready and rushing off to school. Between the doors of Trinity High, I feel a little less confident than I did when I was back home. Passing by the principal’s office, I straighten my shirt, mentally preparing myself for Madame Olenna. I haven’t even spoken to her in a few weeks. It’s time to set things straight and give this all another go.

  “You can’t do this!” a shrill voice cuts through my thoughts. It’s coming from the principal’s office. It sounds familiar.

  “Uh-oh,” I mumble, taking a couple of steps to the side as the door swings open.

  Giselle’s mother comes out, red as a boiled lobster, her otherwise beautiful features contorted with pure rage. Giselle is right behind her, pale—with the exception of the crimson and purple bruises, the split lip and the swollen eye. It’s a picture I’d gaze upon for hours, if given the chance. Better than anything Picasso might’ve come up with.

  “I will not let this go until I take you and Trinity High and that bitch Kira Malone to court!” Giselle’s mother shouts, pointing an angry finger back at the principal, who can’t even be bothered to get up from his chair.

  He sees me first, then Giselle. She scowls at me, while I offer a mild shrug, struggling to keep a straight face. Then, her mother turns around and stills, suddenly blank.

  “You!” She quickly comes to, redirecting her anger in my direction. “You! You’ll pay for this!”

  “You got me expelled, you stupid slut!” Giselle spits, her eyes glistening with tears. Under any other circumstance, I’d have felt sorry for her. But I don’t. I thrive from her misery, even though it’s only a fraction of everything she put me through. There’s a part of this that is funny, however. The girl with the black eye gets to take the hike while all I have left of this mess is a new haircut. For once in my life, I’m thankful that my father is who he is.

  “I’m not the one who set a student’s hair on fire,” I reply dryly.

  “You will pay for this!” Giselle’s mother comes closer, almost towering over me, but I stand my ground, my gaze fixed on her.

  “YOU had better control yourself,” I say. “Your daughter tripped me, causing me to fall and break my ankle. She admitted it to another student. Then, she continued bullying me. And then, she thought that wasn’t enough, so she lit my fucking hair on fire. Maybe focus on reeducating your daughter instead of yelling at me for what she did.”

  She’s stunned. Giselle rolls one eye, since the other is still swollen shut.

  “Maybe make sure she doesn’t end up killing someone, someday, just because she didn’t get her way,” I continue. “What kind of mother are you, to come here and shout at me, the fucking victim?! What kind of mother are you, to threaten this school and the people your daughter has injured, just so you can… what, exactly? Later claim you did everything you could for your precious little Giselle?!” I laugh, mockingly. “Give me a break! You aren’t doing everything you can. You are doing the absolute worst you can by enabling her psychopathic behavior. She needs treatment, not Trinity High.”

  “Fuck you!” Giselle blurts, and her mother raises a hand to silence her.

  Taking another step, she’s so close that my breath gets short. I really hope she doesn’t do something stupid. I’m not above punching Giselle’s mother, too, if I have to.

  “You have a lot of nerve, Kira Malone,” the woman says, her voice trembling. “Someday, it’ll get you in trouble.”

  “You mean the kind of trouble Giselle got herself into? No, thanks. I happen to respect my peers and accept when I’m not good at something,” I reply. “Now, get out of my face before I give you an eye to match your daughter’s.”

  She gasps, and I walk away, my entrails fizzling. My heartbeat is erratic, but holy shit, that felt amazing! Giselle is speechless, and so is her mother. Neither will dare to come after me. They can’t even dispute anything I’ve just said. It’s the truth.

  I’m smiling, ear to ear, as I catch a glimpse of Elias going into class, farther down the hallway. I’ll be with him soon, after I speak to Madame Olenna. There is so much badass in my bloodstream right now, I can do anything.

  The sun is out. And so is Giselle.

  It’s one of the best days of my life.

  22

  Kira

  Madame Olenna stares at me from behind her desk. The office is tiny, a mere annex to the dance hall. It’s always cramped and suffocating, but it’s even more uncomfortable now, as I sit in the guest chair, waiting for her to reply.

  I’ve just submitted my name for the auditions, after briefly explaining my battle with physical recovery, along with the fact that I’ve had other serious personal problems to deal with, but I’m not sure she understands. Or maybe she doesn’t want to accept my excuses—because that’s all they are. Excuses.

  The silence is almost deafening. The air is loaded with heavy pressure. It’s hard to focus or breathe at this point, and my ankle is starting to hurt again. No, dammit. Stop. I’m on a roll. I can’t crash and burn now!

  Her voice startles me. “Let me make something clear, Miss Malone,” Madame Olenna says, her Russian accent sounding like music to my ears. I miss her direction. Her Russian cursing. I miss her.

  “Yes, Madame Olenna,” I mumble meekly.

  “The auditions begin in four weeks. You haven’t trained in almost a year.”

  I take a deep breath. “That is correct…”

  “If you wish to audition, I cannot stop you, Miss Malone. But I’m afraid you will make a fool of yourself…” Her as
sessment is cruel but realistic. I feel like a balloon that just met with a needle. “However,” she adds, and my ears twitch unexpectedly, “with an insane amount of practice, you might just get away with it. I cannot guarantee the lead role, but you could at least spring for the Sugar Plum Fairy.”

  I nod enthusiastically. “Yes, Madame Olenna. I will do whatever it takes.”

  My heart swells. I’m about to jump out of my chair, but the old prima ballerina isn’t done ruffling my feathers just yet. She’s entitled to that much, after all the practice time I’ve missed out on.

  “I will train you. Twice every day, in the morning before class and in the evening after class,” she says sternly. “You will not miss a single session. If you do, I will kick you out of ballet class and let another girl dance in your place. Am I making myself clear?”

  I nod again, unable to say much else.

  “You will be punctual. You will do additional stretching at home. I expect you to run for at least three miles every day, as well. You must work your ankle until the ghost pains go away,” Madame Olenna continues, and I’m suddenly baffled. My blood runs cold.

  “The ghost pains…” I murmur, wondering if she knows exactly what she’s talking about.

  Madame Olenna smirks. “Do you think I’m blind? It’s written all over your face. You’ve been stupid, relying on painkillers instead of pushing yourself to recover. Just like I did once, a very long time ago, and ended up teaching ballet instead of dancing ballet.”

  The revelation hits me like a sledgehammer. Suddenly, I can imagine her struggling with addiction, trading one pain for another, gradually wrecking herself in order to stop feeling anything. I can feel her misery as though it were mine. Madame Olenna is my Ghost of Ballet Future, and I cannot ignore her plight or her warning.

  She’s been where I’ve been. Only… she didn’t see a way out until it was too late. That much is obvious.

  “Commit yourself, Miss Malone. Commit to ballet. You have pain? You dance. You are sad? You dance. You are happy? You dance! Commit to it, Miss Malone, and you will make Miss Misty Copeland look like Elaine, from Seinfeld.”

  I snort a chuckle. She slipped that one right in, mercilessly, and it’s impossible not to laugh. That’s Madame Olenna. With one hand she slaps the crap out of you. With the other hand she caresses you and pulls you out of the mud.

  “I commit to dancing, Madame Olenna,” I tell her, as honestly as I possibly can. “I commit to ballet, and I welcome your guidance. Thank you for this opportunity.”

  She gives me a smile, and I spot a flicker of warmth in her cold blue eyes. “Yes, yes, you’re welcome. Now, go to class. I’ll see you here at 5pm on the dot, Kira,” she replies, waving me away.

  Madame Olenna is calling me by my first name again. I stifle a grin as I get up and head for class, giddy enough to climb the walls and dance on the ceiling.

  The universe feels a little more right again.

  23

  Kira

  Every muscle in my body hurts after the first practice session. Madame Olenna can be quite the beast when it comes to demanding excellence, but I cannot resent her for it. My mind’s in the right place, and so is my heart. I just need to get my body to follow, as well.

  It took twenty minutes of feverish stretching and a full hour of practicing various steps, but I feel fucking amazing. Yes, I’m in a lot of pain, but it’s the good kind. I’m sore all over, and it actually takes my attention away from the ankle. I’ve thought about taking Oxy throughout the day. My mouth is dry, now, as I think about it again.

  But I can’t. I can’t fall. Not when I’m getting this far, after so long. The odds are in my favor, and the pill bottle is at home, anyway. Elias catches up with me outside school, scooping me up into a hug. We kiss, and I’m buzzing on the inside, laughing as he keeps my toes above the ground.

  “I’m not the type to fawn over anything, but dammit, Kira, I’m so goddamn proud of you,” he says, smiling as he settles me back on my feet.

  “Why, thank you, good sir,” I giggle, my knees turning to Jell-O. “Everything hurts, but I’m doing it, you know? I’m practicing again. I’m… I’m dancing again. I could cry…”

  Tears prick my eyes, and Elias kisses me again, cupping my face in his hands. He’s the best medicine for pretty much anything. I’m actually inclined to disagree with Madame Olenna about dancing… eventually, our bodies give in. But this? Having someone to hold me. Someone who supports me. Someone who celebrates my wins just as much as they’d celebrate their own… Now that’s worth the world.

  “Don’t cry. Save your sobs for when you nail the lead in The Nutcracker,” Elias replies, holding me close while the last of the afternoon students go by, some giving us curious or surprised glances. Yeah, I didn’t see this coming, either, and yet here we are. “I’m already inviting potential donors and family friends to see the show before Christmas.”

  “Well, then… we’d best not disappoint them!” I say, fires igniting in my cheeks.

  “Come on. Let’s grab dinner somewhere, and you can tell me all about your first practice session,” Elias says, but his smile quickly fades, his gaze lost somewhere behind me.

  I turn around to find Janelle getting out of her car. She’s in one of her smart suits, likely back from Fowler & Malone. She spots me in Elias’s arms, and she freezes. I’m not sure what to think of this. I love and trust Janelle, of course, but she’s working for my dad. Part of me can’t help but worry a little.

  Janelle crosses the street, reaching us just as Elias takes a step back, putting a decent distance between us. “Hey, Jan,” Elias says, his tone uneven. He’s nervous. I can tell.

  But Janelle seems… fine. “Hey, guys!” She looks at him, then at me. “What, um… what’s going on here?”

  Okay, so maybe not that fine, but I’m sure she’ll understand once I explain everything. “Um, well, Elias and I… we’re… um, I guess you could say that—”

  “We’re together,” Elias takes over, as I can’t seem to find the right words.

  “Wow,” Janelle manages, eyes wide with shock. “I thought I’d imagined it. Okay…”

  “It just… It happened,” I say, trying to smile, but fearful of her reaction. “It was long overdue, if I’m honest, but… you know, we’re finally something more than just our last names.”

  Janelle gives me a soft smile. “I get it. I wasn’t expecting it, truth be told, but it actually makes a lot of sense. It definitely explains a lot of the tension between you two,” she chuckles, and I’m suddenly embarrassed.

  “Yeah, we sort of figured that one out along the way,” Elias says, hands behind his back. Oh, he’s so nervous, it’s almost infectious. He talks a good game, and his composure is enviable, but I can see it in his eyes. He’s worried.

  “Don’t tell Dad, Janelle,” I manage, instantly regretting it.

  Janelle looks offended. “What the hell, Kira?!” she snaps. “You’re my best friend. I would never do that to you!”

  “Oh god, I am so sorry,” I say, clasping my hands together in a pleading gesture. “So, so sorry! It’s just that… if he finds out, it’ll be an absolute mess. You know him almost as well as I do. You know what I mean, right? It’s not that you would deliberately tell him, but… hey, it could slip!”

  “You’re going to have to tell him at some point, though,” Janelle mutters, crossing her arms as she measures us both from head to toe. “You don’t want him catching you. Or someone else telling him. Given that you’re both out here, in public, it’s obvious word is going to get out, soon enough.”

  “We’ll figure something out,” I say, trying to reassure him. Janelle’s right. We do have to tell him. We’ll just have to find the right way.

  “Maybe you can take advantage of this charity work you’re doing together,” Janelle suggests, and Elias nods. His hesitation is impossible to ignore.

  “Maybe…”

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, eager to change the subject.
Elias and I can talk about it later. Janelle scowls at me, even scrunching her nose a little too dramatically.

  “We had plans for dinner tonight. I texted you. You texted back. Said yes. Then I said cool, that I’d pick you up?” Janelle replies, and I’m left looking like a dunce.

  “Crap. Right,” I grumble, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You are absolutely right. You did text, I did say yes…”

  “And you forgot,” Elias chuckles.

  I turn to him. “I’m sorry!”

  “No need,” he replies, nodding at Janelle. “You girls go get your dinner. Talk things through. Catch up. Janelle, Kira has a lot of good news, by the way.”

  Janelle lights up, eyeing me curiously.

  “Okay, let’s go, then,” I say, flashing her a grin.

  “And I’ll go home, order some Chinese,” Elias adds, looking rather dull. “Watch a rerun of something.”

  “You sound so miserable,” I reply and he pouts.

  “Guys, you can see each other later,” Janelle cuts in, trying not to laugh.

  Elias feigns enlightenment. “Oh, my god. Yes! I’ll come to your place tonight,” he tells me.

  “Don’t even joke about that! Are you insane?!”

  He throws his head back, roaring with laughter, while Janelle pulls me away. “Come on, girl, we obviously have a lot to talk about!”

  I glance over my shoulder and see Elias sending me an air kiss. It’s such a strange sight, yet so wonderful altogether. It’s like we’re both different people. New people. Upgraded versions. There are times when I think that everything that has happened up to our first night together has been nothing but a bad dream.

  That we’ve only just awakened to this reality.

  If only erasing the past was an actually possibility.

  24

  Kira