Bitter: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Wicked Brotherhood Book 1)

by Eden Beck

  I think he just doesn’t like hoodies.

  Doesn’t fit into the whole aesthetic he’s been trying to craft for me. The one thing I don’t mind is that he’s suggested I grow my hair out, just a bit. I’m looking forward to looking a little bit less like a wet rat all the time. A starved, jumpy rat that starts at every unexpected noise.

  Yet another side-effect of being here at Bleakwood.

  It’s one of these noises—a slamming locker that echoes too loudly down an empty hallway—that makes me stop for a minute to rest my head against the frame of a door. One hand clutches the middle of my chest, the other spreads to feel the texture of the wall beneath my fingertips.

  All this talk of injury has primed my mind to see things that aren’t there.

  For just a second, I swore I saw one of them. One of The Brotherhood.

  After these last few weeks, you’d think I’d be used to them. You’d think I’d no longer be scared.

  But that fear has grown inside me. Even though they’ve yet to do anything worse than shove me out of the lunch line, I know that isn’t where this is going to end. I know this is only the beginning. I saw it on their faces, that first day at the top of the stairs. There was a darkness in them. A hunger. And it’s there, still.

  I see it every time I look one of them in the eye.

  The feel of stone turns sharp beneath my fingers. My breath tightens a bit again, and I have to force it to slow down. Force myself to take a measured breath.

  Another locker slams down the hall while I’m focusing on the wall in front of me, and it makes me jump again. My head snaps so quickly in the direction of the noise that my neck aches.

  “Damn it,” I say to myself, through gritted teeth as one hand reaches up to massage the side of my neck. “Calm down, Alex. There’s no one there.”

  I should have asked Rafael to come with me, but I couldn’t tell him I’m as worried about The Brotherhood as he’s been worried for me. I couldn’t give him the satisfaction. He might be my closest friend here—my only real friend, since he’s the only one I don’t have to outright lie to every moment of every day—but he’s not exactly the nurturing type. He might be helping me hide my true identity, but I wouldn’t put it past him to sell me out if he realized it would suit him better.

  But I don’t need him. The Brotherhood is just a stupid fraternity. They’re just bullies. High school bullies who have it out for me, sure. But only bullies still.

  And they aren’t even here. Why would they be, after all, when they should already be sneaking around with girls like Olive?

  It’s with that thought that I finally feel my heartbeat slow and my mind clear.

  But this newfound peace doesn’t last.

  Because I was wrong. The Brotherhood is somewhere it doesn’t belong, and that place is here.

  “Alex!”

  Jasper’s voice pierces my head. My stomach drops and I freeze again. I want to turn around to search out the source of his voice, but before I can, both my arms are seized by the elbow and I’m hoisted a little off my feet.

  There’s be no peace today. I should have known. I should have trusted my instincts.

  Heath and Beck look down at me now, one on each side. I can’t wriggle out of their grasp. My feet hover a few inches off the floor as they start walking, taking me with them.

  After a few steps, Jasper appears in front of me. He walks backwards so he can face me while leading his boys.

  “Taking a little evening stroll?” It doesn’t faze him when I don’t answer. He grins at my confused expression. “We figured you could use a lift to the party.”

  Heath and Beck chuckle. They smell a little of alcohol, which probably explains why they thought that terrible pun was anywhere near funny. They’ve started early.

  “I wasn’t going to go to the party,” I say quietly, my feet swinging hopelessly beneath me.

  Jasper’s grin widens. “Can’t have that. The Brotherhood requires your presence. Need to keep an eye on you, after all.”

  That makes no sense to me, but there is precious little I can do about it, seeing as I’m currently being carted down the dark corridor like an overgrown child.

  Heath leans in closer, his boozy breath making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “We like to keep our pets close.”

  Jasper leads us outside and onto the back grounds, past my smoking spot. I continue to kick out my feet but succeed only in brushing my toes along the grass. Beck squeezes my elbow and practically growls at me, his manic blue eyes boring into me when I glance over at him.

  “What’s going on?” Jasper asks, after a moment.

  “He’s trying to wiggle away.”

  “I’m up off the ground. Can’t I just … walk?”

  Ahead of us, Jasper shrugs but doesn’t look back. “Sure. Let him walk.” Then he does turn, his eyes narrowing at me. “Just don’t dare try anything.”

  I’m abruptly dropped. I stumble, trying to keep my balance until Heath grabs my arm and yanks me upright.

  “Pick up the pace,” he snaps at me.

  I try to pull my arm away, but his grip is like iron. I give up and let him drag me along.

  We walk over the grounds, sticking to the tree line as we enter a forest full of hardy trees at the edge of the school’s property line. Ahead of us I can see flashlights bobbing in the darkness. Jasper glances over his shoulder and grins at us.

  We keep walking down an old, worn-down trail. Every so often I glance back to make sure I can find my way back to the school building if the boys abandon me. That would be a likely trick. Thankfully, the trail seems easy enough to follow.

  I just hope that I’ll be able to see it through the dark when I come back.

  Soon more boys are walking behind us and we end up level with the flashlight-carriers I saw earlier. We’re like migratory birds meeting up for the spring. The trees begin to thin and Beck pushes through a thicket, letting the branches swing back to smack me painfully in the face before we break into a clearing full of people.

  And in the middle of the clearing is what looks to be some sort of abandoned church.

  It’s actually a pretty cool place to have a party, honestly. It’s a small building made of grey stone with a tall pointed roof and a bell tower. From the looks of it down here, it’s missing its bell. Ivy snakes up the walls and past the faded stained-glass windows, out of which candlelight pours from somewhere inside. Both boys and girls mill around the outside and pass in and out of the open church doors with plastic cups in hand.

  “This way, runt,” Jasper grunts. Heath yanks me with him, and I stumble along in The Brotherhood’s wake as they make their way into the church.

  “You made it!” shrieks a voice, and Olive pounces on Jasper almost as soon as he enters. He returns the gesture with a hug that gets a little too handsy before Olive pulls away.

  I take the opportunity to look around. Look for any possible escape, should it become necessary. We’re in a somewhat bare rectangular room with nothing but worn stone slabs beneath our feet. The pews have been jostled from their places and now line the walls looking weathered and a little rotten.

  The remnants of a torn, wrinkled rug leads up the small steps to a dais where I assume the altar used to be. Now there’s a drink cart there. In an alcove behind the dais is a small campfire crackling beside an empty can of lighter fluid placed a little too close for comfort. I silently thank whatever gods exist that this place is stone, not wood.

  “You came, too!” Olive says excitedly, forcing me back to where I stand, stock-still in the middle of my captors as she leaps toward me. She pulls me into a hug and I’m ripped out of Heath’s grasp. I do my best to keep my hands limp at my sides. “Alex, right?”

  “Right,” I mutter in response. I try to look as disinterested as possible. I can’t give Jasper any more reason to hate me. To torture me.

  Somehow, this just makes her beam at me even more. I can see why Jasper likes her. She’s more than just your ty
pical queen-bee rich girl. There’s something … infectious … about her.

  “Yeah, we figured this runt oughta come with us,” Jasper says, stepping around Olive to put his hand on the back of my neck. “Didn’t we, pipsqueak?” His voice is a low growl, and his fingers curl to squeeze me just a bit too tight.

  “Yeah,” I manage to choke out.

  “Jas, you’re hurting him,” Olive admonishes him, smacking his wrist so he’ll let me go. He does so reluctantly, but not before giving me another squeeze.

  “That’s better,” she says, not taking her eyes off of me. “Now, how about a drink? What’s the point of being here otherwise?”

  She turns and flits away, determined to fetch me a plastic cup to match hers.

  She’s barely out of sight before Jasper grabs me by the collar of my jacket and yanks me toward him. “What did I tell you?” he sneers, jamming his face close to mine. He really smells like alcohol. “Or have you already forgotten?”

  It’s more than the whiff I got before. Maybe it took a little time to settle in, or maybe he chugged a whole bottle of vodka when everyone was paying attention to his little conquest.

  “I didn’t do anything,” I say, as calmly as I can, “she talked to me.”

  “Well, make yourself less noticeable!”

  “You dragged me here,” I snap. “I didn’t even want to come—I don’t want to be noticeable!”

  He pushes me away from him without replying, and I stumble back. Some of the pews—a small amount, maybe one or two—haven’t been moved away from the middle of the room, and I end up crashing into one. I rub my bruised hip, wincing. At least I didn’t lose my footing.

  I’m going to have really good balance by the end of this.

  Jasper doesn’t respond. He knows I’m right.

  “Jasper!” Olive cries out. It’s clear from the tone of her voice that she saw the last little bit. I can’t tell if her voice is teasing, or if it’s just the subtle slur of liquor on her tongue.

  “He was provoking me,” Jasper says.

  Olive appears at my side and hands me a red plastic cup full of an amber liquid. It’s definitely beer, but I still find myself wary.

  “Thanks.” I eye her suspiciously. I don’t want to drink it.

  She hands another cup to Jasper, and he brightens considerably and throws his arm around her shoulders. He and Olive walk off together—little Alex momentarily forgotten.

  And for that, I’m thankful.

  Heath turns to me as Beck wanders off, his eyes glinting as he focuses on a pretty girl with long brown hair by the drink cart.

  “Enjoy the party,” he says, a menacing grin spreading across his face before he gives me a mocking salute and sidles off. “Don’t wander off on us.”

  “Sure,” I mutter to myself. I watch as he slinks into the small crowd. The last thing I’m going to do is sit here and wait for them to come back, so I clutch my full cup and head toward a door off the side of the altar.

  As much as I hate having to be at this party, there’s something about the church that keeps making me look upward, admiring the architecture. It’s cute, or quaint, or whatever. The side door leads up a flight of stairs to a balcony over the sanctuary. From up here, I can pick out Beck’s platinum-blonde head, Heath’s dark one, and Jasper’s shaggy curls. I also recognize a few other guys from different classes, but none of them are paying any attention to me.

  Finally.

  There’s a strange peace in being able to watch, unobserved. Up here, no one can surprise me. I may be the prey, but I have my eyes on the predators determined to hunt me.

  I keep my eyes on them for a while, but it’s not easy to keep track of all three of them in the swelling crowd. There aren’t that many students from the two schools here, but the way they’re moving around in the candlelit twilight makes it increasingly difficult to keep track of Jasper, Heath, and Beck among them.

  Someone set up a couple seating areas up here using folding chairs and plastic tables. They’re mostly empty except for one girl sitting on a boy’s lap as they make out furiously, their drinks forgotten on the table nearest them. I glance down at the party again, and seeing no sign of any one of the three boys, move up the center of the balcony to a door that looks like no one’s opened it in ages.

  I find myself on a small wooden landing between two sets of stairs as I pull the door shut behind me, blocking out the dull rumble of noise from the party below. It’s cold out here. I shiver as I pull my jacket closer.

  The stairs snake their way around the perimeter of the walls of this enclosed square room. A glance down the middle looks straight down to grass overgrowing the bottom floor.

  This must be the bell tower.

  Above me, the ceiling is flat concrete and below my feet the wooden stairs creak. I test my weight before taking a step. The floor squeaks, but it seems sturdy. With no one here to watch me, I pour my drink over the side of the railing, listening to the splash of beer on the ground down below. Better to stay sober. I need my wits about me. Tonight is far from over.

  Part of me feels the slightest twinge of guilt for the small act of vandalism. I have to remind myself of the debauchery taking place on the other side of the door. Speaking of which …

  The swell of music and voices rises from beyond. The party is in full swing now. I don’t like to think of Jasper drinking more, not to mention Heath and Beck. They’re bad enough in the sober light of day.

  Someone’s voice, still too muted to make out, bursts into laughter on the other side of the door. I consider hiding at the bottom of the bell tower for a moment, but then decide it would be better not to be cornered like a rat down there.

  I start up the stairs instead.

  They’re narrow and steep. They don’t look like I’ve always imagined a “spiral staircase” to look—not in a tight circle following a central pole up. Instead, they’re boxy, moving around the walls with landings in the corners. The aged sag of each step, beaten down by time and footsteps, makes me wonder how old the church really is.

  And how long ago it was abandoned, left to rot and eventually turn into a destination for many a teenage pregnancy scare.

  The top of the stairs leads to a flat floor in a somewhat open area. The bells and their mechanisms have been stripped from the tower, leaving an empty space in the high pointed ceiling above me. I set my empty cup down on the floor and walk over to one of the windows. The panes have long since been shattered, leaving the glass glittering like sand in the grass down below.

  The party has spilled out of the church and onto the grass outside. I lean my face against the glorified hole in the wall and watch the black silhouettes moving in the dark.

  The people below me look so small and far away. Everyone’s too distracted by drink and pheromones to look up, so no one notices when I lean out of the window to feel the cold mountain breeze brush across my face. It’s pretty spacious up here. Honestly, I’m surprised I’m alone. It’d be a good make out spot, at least. Much better than the balcony below, where just anyone can glance up and see everything.

  Not that I’m going to be doing any of that anytime soon.

  I think for a second that I recognize the silhouette of Heath’s shoulders down below. Of all the boys, he’s the most distinctively shaped. Too tall and too broad for someone our age, his shoulders rounded with muscle.

  A slight shiver races down my spine.

  Stop. I shouldn’t be thinking about that. Not here. Not now. And certainly … not Heath. Not any of them.

  I close my eyes to ignore the figures down below for a moment and just focus on the cool air on my skin.

  I stay here for a long time, enjoying a long-forgotten peace, long enough to need to rest my arms on the high windowsill and set my head on them. Down on the ground, a few couples have started dancing as music drifts out from somewhere inside the church. Someone’s brought out more flashlights, and the way they sway and bob looks like fireflies darting between the bases of the trees.


  I’m not sure how long I stand here, gazing down at the fairy lights while the breeze numbs my face. The cold of the stone wall sinks through my jacket and into my bones, numbing me into a lull that only the sharp stab of voices draws me out of.

  Familiar voices. Drunk familiar voices.

  I look frantically around the empty room. There’s nowhere in here for me to hide. I turn and press my back close to the wall as heavy footsteps thump their way up the stairs. It’s too late to run. Too late to think of a plan.

  All I can do is try to look small and compliant and hope that’s enough.

  Jasper spills into the room, his arm around Olive’s waist, followed closely by Beck and Heath. All my efforts in trying to make myself look small are wasted when Olive spots me immediately.

  “Alex!” she slurs happily, stumbling out of Jasper’s grasp. “I was wondering where you—hic—where you went.” She comes to me and grabs my hand to pull me against her. Her eyes are glazed, her grip both painfully tight and yet unsteady. She looks into my eyes with a glassy stare and lips carelessly parted, her breaths coming out in short gasps.

  “Dance with me.”

  That elicits a growl from Jasper, and he scowls as he walks over. “I’ll dance with you, Olive.”

  “I can’t dance.” I slip away from her, taking a step toward the exit. I just want to be wherever these guys aren’t.

  “Everyone can dance,” Olive says, gushing with misplaced enthusiasm. I wonder briefly if she knows what she’s doing.

  She has to know what she’s doing, right?

  “So can I,” Jasper slurs at her, and he catches her by the waist again, making her giggle. “Why do you wanna dance with this—this little, this—runt?”

  Good insult, I think dryly. Definitely worth all that brain power it took to get there.

  Not that Bleakwood actually seems to require much. Not like I was promised. This school for the gifted, the talented … it’s really turned out to be a school for the lineage-inclined.

  “He’s not a runt,” Olive replies, still seemingly oblivious to the trouble she’s causing.

  I take another step toward the exit.

  “Where you goin’?” Jasper asks angrily, lurching toward me. The alcohol has made his words slur even more. He barely sounds like himself.