by Mae Doyle
“Sure, but where’s the fun in that? You and I both know that she’s my only real competition here this year. Besides, look at her. You can’t really tell me that you don’t want to fuck with her a bit more.”
My heart sinks at Quinn’s words. Even though I knew that he wasn’t trying to help me from a place of compassion, it still hurt to hear them come out of his mouth. I really am nothing to him, and I almost turn to walk away, but what he says next has me interested.
“We’re going to give Abigail the few weeks that she claims she’s going to need to be able to paint again. If she can make it through them then she can compete. If she can’t, then she’s going to end up just like Javier Morgan. How does that sound?” He sticks out his hand to Mr. Stanfield, who pauses for a moment before reaching out and shaking it.
“You’re sure that you want to go down this path?” Mr. Stanfield sounds a little nervous, and I feel a jolt of fear run through me.
Quinn laughs and turns to look at me. “Just look at her, sir. She’s pathetic. I don’t care what happens to her, but you can’t tell me that you aren’t interested in seeing just how she’s going to come out of this.”
They both stare at me for a moment and then Mr. Stanfield nods. “You heard him, Abigail. You have a few weeks to get your wrist healed. If you’re still here by the time it’s healed then you can continue to compete for the internship. If not, then Trinity Prep will have done a great job of weeding out someone who doesn’t belong.”
Chapter Twenty
Days go by quickly and uneventfully. Carefully, I break my pills into even smaller doses and take them well before I’m going to bed to ensure that I can sleep through the pain but still wake up before I’m going to be late.
It’s working well, but that seems to be the only thing that I have going for me. Madeline still won’t talk to me. Alice makes it a point to stare at me from across the cafeteria, but so far she hasn’t approached me. Quinn…well, Quinn won’t talk to me. He won’t look at me. It’s like I don’t exist to him or the rest of the class.
Until today. Friday.
I’m so ready for the week to be over, but I pull on some clothes and head down to the cafeteria early so that I can eat without people staring at me. For the first time, my wrist isn’t absolutely killing me, and I take that as a good sign that the rest of the day is going to be awesome.
In fact, I’m whistling as I turn the corner to the cafeteria. I’m still in a splint, but my wrist doesn’t ache like it used to. My thoughts feel clearer and brighter than they have in the past. Things are definitely looking up for me.
But then I stop dead in my tracks. Hung over the doors to the cafeteria is a huge banner. It’s obviously homemade, but the size and the appearance aren’t what give me pause. It’s what it says.
OPEN SEASON BEGINS
Underneath the banner is a picture of me. It’s my picture that I sent in as a part of my application. I have no idea how someone got a hold of it, but I’m up there on the wall under a banner that talks about open season beginning.
I suddenly feel very chilled and I consider going back to my room until class starts, but there’s no way that I’m going to make it through this day without something in my stomach.
Taking a deep breath, I push open the double doors and head inside. Immediately, the chatter stops, and everyone turns to look at me. Smiling nervously, I walk to get some food and then head to the table where I’ve been eating by myself – in the corner, away from everyone.
Before I reach it, though, Alice walks up to me. “What the hell are you doing here?” She asks. It’s the first time that a student has willingly spoken to me all week long, and I pause for a moment, trying to figure out what’s going on.
“Just getting breakfast,” I tell her, but before I can say anything else, her hand darts out and smacks the bottom of my tray. I don’t have a good grip on it with just my left hand, and it immediately flies out of my hand, food smacking me in the face before clattering to the floor.
“You don’t eat here anymore. Wanna know why? Because you don’t fucking belong here. Don’t you remember our first little meeting in the bathroom, Abigail? Nothing’s changed except that now everyone else knows how bad you suck.” Alice grins at me and steps back a bit from the milk that is slowly pooling on the floor.
“Abigail sucks!” I don’t know the voice that called out, but when I turn to see who it is, Alice disappears from in front of me and everyone starts laughing. Something hard hits me in the back. An apple, maybe, and I reach up to rub the stop, but before I can, other students throw things.
Banana peels.
Bits of toast.
A full cup of juice.
I throw up my arms to protect my face, but the first direct shot that hits my wrist has me gasping in pain. “Stop it!” I scream, but everyone only laughs. They’re chanting “Abigail sucks!” and taking turns launching their food at me.
Turning, I run from the cafeteria, trying to keep from crying. I’m dripping with food and my clothes stink. Once the doors close behind me, I turn and look through the window. The entire class is in there, laughing and cheering.
Open season.
I get it now.
Taking a shuddering breath, I turn around, and gasp when I see Quinn behind me. Hardening my face is hard. I want to cry, but there’s no way that I can do that in front of him. Not after what just happened. Not because I’m sure that he’s the one who’s behind it.
“You happy now? The entire class has turned against me.” My voice is shaky and my face hot, but I don’t back down. “Do you honestly think that this is going to make me leave the school? What the hell is wrong with you? And why now? I thought that everyone hated me but they were just going to leave me alone!”
He shrugs and closes the gap between us, making my body start to ache for his touch. It’s fucked up, and I know it, but I want his hands on me. It would make me feel grounded, and like someone actually saw me and cared for me, even though I know that it wouldn’t be real.
Nothing about how he makes me feel is real, and as long as I remember that, I’m going to be okay.
“Sweet, stupid, little Abigail. Did you not get it? You need to leave or you’re going to end up with the same fate as poor Javier Morgan,” Quinn says, reaching out and brushing some food from my cheek. I shiver and pull back at his touch, but he doesn’t look surprised or offended.
That’s the name again. He and Mr. Stanfield were talking about Javier, but I don’t know who that is. I’ve tried to research him this week, but no matter what I looked for online, I hadn’t been able to find anything.
“Who is Javier Morgan? And why wouldn’t I want to end up like him?” I don’t know that I want to ask this question, but I can’t help myself. If I’m going to survive whatever hell the students at Trinity Prep have planned out for me then I need to make sure that I know exactly what’s coming my way.
Quinn chuckles and my stomach twists at the sound. It’s just not fair that everything about him makes my body feel like it’s on fire. I can barely get through a conversation with him without thinking about him pinning me up against the wall and taking whatever he wants from me.
“Javier Morgan was a student here, Abigail, a long time ago. Long before you or I even thought about coming to Trinity Prep, in fact. He’s the first and only other student who had open season declared on him, and he didn’t come out of it in one piece. You think that you can do any better?”
“You killed him?” Horror cools my body and I feel like my heart actually starts pumping slower. My blood feels thick and uncomfortable.
“Did you not listen?” Quinn asks, with a sigh. “He was here long before you and I were. So, no, I did not kill Javier Morgan. He’s more like a warning that you need to heed. Now, what you do with this information is totally up to you, but if I were you, I’d leave.”
“Then why did you tell Mr. Stanfield that I should be given a chance? If you think that I should leave then why even try to
keep me here? Do you want me to die?” Instinctively, I take a step back, but my back is against the doors to the cafeteria. There’s literally nowhere for me to go.
Quinn sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Of course I don’t want you to die, that’s fucked up, Abigail. But I do love a good game. If you leave, then where’s the fun of even being here for my senior year? But if you stay…well, if you stay then you and I can play this fun little game.”
“But I might die,” I snap back, moving out of the way when he reaches out to brush my cheek again. I want to feel his hands on me, dammit, but I also know that it’s stupid.
“You might die,” he agrees. “But I have a feeling that you’re stronger than that, am I right? You may be strong enough to survive open season, but if not, then there’s no hard feelings, ok? I have hope, though, Abigail. I think that you may be stronger than you think, and if I’m right, then this year is about to get a lot more interesting.”
“That’s easy for you to say! Nobody’s trying to drive you out of the school!” I’m yelling, but I don’t care if everyone in Trinity Prep hears what I have to say. This place is fucked up and I’m really thinking now that I never should have come.
“That’s the beauty of it, Abigail. Nobody dares to drive me out of the school. Remember when I told you that I’m the fucking god? It’s true. Nobody will stand up to me and nobody is going to stop me, not even the teachers. You want to stay here and try to take my internship from me? You want to refuse to give me the thing that I won in our bet? Then you’re going to stay, you stupid cunt. You’re going to stay and you’re going to fight for your life. I’m tired of being nice. You exhaust me.” There’s nothing kind or caring about his smile.
“I don’t want to fight you or fight for my life! I just want to go to classes and be normal! Why won’t you make this stop?” I don’t want to beg, I don’t want to plead. I need answers, and I have no idea how I’m going to get them if he refuses to give them to me. He’s the only person who can answer the questions that I have, and my biggest fear right now is that he’s going to turn and walk away from me.
“Why would I make it stop when it is literally the most fun that I’ve had since coming here? You have no idea what it’s like to have your life completely planned out for you, do you?” When I shake my head in response, he grips my chin and holds it so that I’m staring him in the face. “I do. My entire life has been planned out for me, and now I finally have a little control. What do you think that you would do if you had some control, hm?”
“I guess that I’d stay at school and ruin the chances that you had of landing the internship.” I don’t know if it’s the wrong thing to say or not, but I don’t care. He can’t get away with this shit for any longer.
Like my skin is burning him, he drops his hand from my chin, but then he reaches out and slaps me so hard that my head spins to the side. My cheek tingles but I won’t let myself reach up to touch it. I won’t let him see that I’m weak.
“Then you better hope that you’re a stronger person than Javier Morgan, Abigail. He thought that he would stay, too, and he didn’t even have it as bad as you.”
“Why not? Why didn’t he have it as bad?” I hate him. I hate Quinn, but he has the answers that I need. I only hope that he’ll bite and talk to me instead of storming off down the hall.
“Because, you stupid cunt, Javier Morgan wasn’t fighting me.”
It takes me a minute to understand what he’s saying, but when I do, I feel chills run through my body. Quinn thinks he’s worse than whatever they put Javier through. He died before he could leave Trinity Prep, but Quinn still thinks that he can make my life here even worse.
Chapter Twenty-One
So, no breakfast. I ran away from Quinn as fast as I could, and now I’m sitting in Professor Thiel’s class waiting for everyone else to show up. I never thought that I would take refuge in here, but I have to hide out somewhere. I have to get away from the other students and I hope that being in a classroom is the best way for me to protect myself.
I just hope that I’m not wrong.
By the time that everyone else files in, my stomach has been rumbling so loudly that Professor Thiel comments on it. “You know, Abigail, you need to eat breakfast in the morning if you’re going to keep from being a distraction in class. Run along to the cafeteria and grab something, then get back here as quickly as possible.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice, and I dart out of the room as quickly as possible while making sure not to make eye contact with any other student.
The cafeteria is completely empty when I walk in, and I run over to the food to get something to eat. There’s still some bread and jam out, and I make a quick sandwich and grab an orange for later. If breakfast was any indication, I have a pretty good idea that I may not be welcome back in the cafeteria for a while.
The thought is terrifying.
They could starve me out. If I can’t eat then I’m surely going to have to leave Trinity Prep, right? This is what occupies my thoughts as I take my time walking back to Professor Thiel’s class. The problem is that without access to food I’m not going to last more than a few days here.
Sliding into my chair, I reach down to slip my orange into my backpack, but it’s not there. Surprised, I turn in my seat, looking for it, but it’s not kicked behind me, either. It’s gone, and I swear that I brought it to class with me.
Professor Thiel is in the middle of explaining the difference between cash-basis accounting and accrual-basis accounting, but I raise my hand anyway, giving it a little wave when he doesn’t immediately stop talking and look at me.
“Excuse, me, sir?” Calling out to him is what makes him finally sigh and turn to me. I know that he’d seen me raise my hand, but he wasn’t going to let me interrupt him until he had to.
“Abigail. Is there another problem you wish to discuss?” He asks, sighing obviously as he does.
“Yes, sir. My backpack was here when I left for the cafeteria, but it’s missing.”
He doesn’t say anything in response, so I try again.
“I think that someone took my backpack while I was gone.” The entire class is quiet behind me. Nobody dares to move or make a sound, but that doesn’t make me feel any more confident that they aren’t the ones behind taking my stuff.
It was Quinn, I have no doubt.
“And you’re accusing one of your classmates?” Professor Thiel sounded bored before, but now he sounds a little excited.
Does everyone here get off on fucking with other people?
“I’m just saying that it’s odd that it was here…and now it’s not.” I spread out my hands to make my point.
“Do you have a student you want to accuse?” Professor Thiel crosses his arms and leans back on his desk like he’s really enjoying this. My face burns as I think about turning around and pointing right at Quinn.
Although, with the way that things are going now, who knows who it was? If he’s really managed to turn everyone in the class against me then it could be anyone.
I don’t know how to handle that.
“I don’t. I don’t know who it was, but I know that someone here has it. We could just ask everyone to come up and look for it, if that works for you.” It’s a last-ditch attempt for help, and he and I both know it.
“Listen, Abigail. I’m sorry that you misplaced your backpack, but I’m not going to invade the privacy of the rest of the class to try to make you feel better about it. It’s not their fault that you can’t seem to hang onto your possessions, so let’s continue.” He turns his back on me and continues teaching.
That’s that.
I really have nobody here who will help me.
Crossing my arms, I sit back in my desk. No paper, no pencils, and my homework is definitely gone forever. If the god of Trinity Prep and his fucking followers really want to drive me out of their school then they’re doing a damn good job of it already.
***
The next wee
k is the same. I had to redo all of the assignments that I’d already completed for class, which was a nightmare since my wrist still hurts every time I touch it. Honestly, I’m beginning to think that I made a mistake trying to stick it out with my broken wrist. I have no idea how I’m going to keep up in my class, especially art.
Mr. Stanfield practically ignores me. The way that he fawns over Quinn is enough to make me sick. It’s one day while he’s extolling the virtues of the techniques that Quinn used that I make up my mind.
Sure, they can do their best to keep me from eating in the cafeteria. And throw mud at me in the quad. Corner me in the bathroom. Steal my backpack.
But who’s to say that I can’t fight back? It won’t be pretty and it sure as hell won’t be easy, but I’m done just laying down and taking whatever they want to dish out for me.
I may look scared on the outside, but on the inside, I’m not only trying to survive, but also figuring out how I can fuck things up for everyone else. Especially Quinn. And Alice.
And, heaven forgive me, Madeline.
Hers is the betrayal that hurts the worst.
“You’ve been really quiet recently, little cunt. Care to share what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Quinn catches up to me in the hall, which isn’t hard to do, since everyone else gives me a wide path as I walk to and from classes. Before I can even turn and look at him, he thumps me on the side of the head like he’s checking to see if I’m ripe.
“Just biding my time,” I tell him, cutting through a group of students who immediately step out of my way so I can take the shortcut through the quad and avoid being in the halls for much longer. The air is brisk outside and I shiver, pulling my jacket a little tighter around my body. What I don’t expect is Quinn to put his arm around my waist and pull me to him.
Immediately I pull away. There’s no way that I want to be close to him. Not after all of the things that he’s done and said to me.
