Manic: A Dark High School Bully Romance

by Savannah Rose

  “That’s awful,” Arlena whispered. “You were robbed.”

  “I thought that once,” I said. “But then I did some math and realized something.”

  “Math?”

  I nodded. “The year that Damon turned fifteen, my mom had a crisis on her birthday. She was sobbing to her friend that her life was over, she was an old lady now—because she was turning thirty.”

  Arlena frowned for a second, then her eyes widened. “She had you guys when she was fifteen and sixteen?”

  “Yep,” I said. “And I never knew my grandparents. My dad waited until she was nineteen, just barely old enough to sign a lease on her own, before he left her. Yeah, Damon and I were robbed. But so was she. She’s never gotten over it, either. I don’t know if she ever will. She resents me and my brother and my dad because she never got to have a youth.”

  Arlena was quiet for a long time. “That doesn’t make what she did right,” she said.

  “No,” I agreed. “But it’s an explanation. I can forgive a lot of shit if I understand where it comes from.”

  “Ah,” she said. “Is that why you keep putting up with Sam?”

  I laughed. “I guess so. I know how to talk to her. She’s a lot like my mom—or what my mom would have been like if she hadn’t gotten pregnant when she did.”

  Arlena blew out a breath. “Well then let’s not disturb your mom,” she said. “Take me home.”

  “Arlena, come on. What about your parents?”

  She chuckled softly. “They aren’t going to kick me out or beat me or have me arrested for trespassing. They won’t do anything bad to you either, once I tell them that you’re the reason I’m okay. You have to understand, Blayze. My parents desperately wanted me. They spent tens of thousands of dollars on fertility treatments just to have me. Going to a degenerate house party and getting my car trashed might be the worst thing I’ve ever done—but I still know with absolute certainty that I’ll be safe at home with them.”

  Deep, sucking envy battled with a light breezy joy inside of me. I would have killed to have that kind of security growing up. Hell, I would have killed to have that kind of support right then. Arlena wasn’t the only one who was in way over their head, and I didn’t know how to untangle my mess any more than I knew how to extract her from hers.

  “Do you want me to come inside with you?” I asked as I turned the car around to head to her place.

  She took a deep breath and blew it out. “No,” she said. “But please walk me to the door. And—one more thing.”

  “Okay?”

  “I’m going to tell my parents about the car. They’re going to want to file a police report. The insurance company is going to need that as proof that I didn’t do it myself. If I do that now, it’ll send the cops to Eddie’s place. They’re probably going to investigate, knock on doors, see if anybody’s seen anything. I’m telling you this so you can warn him, so he won’t think that I’m trying to get him in trouble.”

  I frowned, thinking about that. “That’s a problem,” I told her. “A big problem. If cops start sniffing around Eddie’s house, he’s going to sell everything and disappear for a few months. He’s done it before. It’s part of the reason he hasn’t graduated yet, because he keeps having to do that.”

  “And if he does that, it’ll leave you without a place to say,” she finished for me.

  “Yep. But—” I hesitated.

  “What?” She asked.

  “Well—if the car isn’t at Eddie’s place, the cops won’t be there, and Eddie won’t have to be warned about anything.”

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “Well—I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the engine. The rims will hold up for a couple blocks if I drive slowly enough. Why don’t I just move the car?”

  She tapped her chin, scowling thoughtfully, then shrugged. “I can’t think of a reason why you shouldn’t,” she said. “I mean, it’s not like you’re stealing it.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “All right, one more detour. You should wait in the truck.”

  “Okay.”

  It wasn’t until I was sitting behind the wheel in Arlena’s ruined car that the reality of the situation struck me. Whoever had done this was beyond pissed. This was no random bullying effort put forth by a pawn of a nameless, faceless, internet dictator. Whoever did this had a personal grudge against Arlena.

  Sam was the first person I thought of, again, but she’d been stuck to me all night except for the few times that I went to refill her drink. I had never been away from her side long enough for her to do all this. She had friends, of course, but I didn’t think second-hand rage would have done all this damage. I really didn’t want to take Arlena home. It was the first place someone would look for her, and I wasn’t convinced that they’d satisfied their need for revenge.

  I had a lot of time to think about it as I crept the car slowly away from Eddie’s place. I left it in an alley behind a grungy shopping center a few blocks away and walked back, turning the problem over and over in my head. She trusted that she was safe with her parents. I didn’t. I wanted to press the issue with her and with my mother, and make her crash at my mom’s for a day or two.

  But when I got back to the truck, Arlena was busily texting. She smiled at me as I climbed in. “My mom woke up and didn’t see me, so she texted to make sure I was okay. I told her I’m okay and that I’m on my way home.”

  I nodded. That settled that, then. “Okay. Make sure you lock all the doors, all right?”

  She gave me a searching glance, then nodded. “I will. I always do.”

  I took her home and dropped her off, walking her to the door as she asked. I waited until I heard the lock click into place, then walked back to my truck. I texted Sam.

  Crashing at my mom’s, I told her. See you in the morning.

  Then I settled in to watch Arlena’s house. She might feel safe, but I was going to make sure that she was.

  21

  I felt like I’d scrubbed my face and body for hours, but the words were still there. Sure, the marks had faded a bit, but if you looked close enough, the insults were still readable. I’d slept in late and went straight to the shower, so I hadn’t seen either of my parents yet. I’d been hoping to get rid of some of the evidence before talking to them, but the permanent nature of the marker was conspiring against me.

  Eventually I gave up. It was Sunday and the house was full of delicious scents—Mom liked to go all out on Sundays because it was the one day of the week when she knew we would all be home. Breakfast was always an event—a long one, full of conversation, with phones and newspapers strictly banned. I already knew how this conversation was going to go.

  Dad watched me with hawk-like eyes as I sat down at the table. Mom smiled, but her eyes were wandering over the faded words on my face. She loaded up our plates with food, poured the drinks, and sat down.

  “Where were you last night?” dad asked. He had his lawyer voice on, and my mom frowned at him. He shrugged defensively in her direction.

  “I went to a party,” I said.

  “She told me she was going to a party,” Mom jumped in. “I knew she was going to be out late, and she texted me when I got worried. She isn’t in trouble.”

  “Not yet,” Dad said. “Tell me about all that stuff on your face. You and your friends have a face-painting roast party?”

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t know who did this.”

  Mom froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. She put it down on her plate and gave me a hard look. “Maybe you’d better tell us the whole story,” she said.

  “And don’t leave out the part where your car isn’t in the garage,” Dad added.

  My heart pounded hard in my chest. I took a deep breath and let it out again. “I was drinking.” I let my confession hang in the air for a long time, waiting for a reaction. They didn’t give me one. I swallowed hard and kept talking.

  “I drank too much. I passed out in the bathroom. When
I woke up, I had words written all over me. Blayze drove me home. He didn’t bring my car home because there isn’t much of it left. At some point during the party somebody trashed it. Smashed the windows and tore up the interior and slashed the tires and spray painted nasty words all over it.”

  I bit my lip and looked down at my plate. I could feel my parents having a conversation with their eyes.

  “Why?” Dad said finally.

  I looked up at him, confused. “Which part?”

  “Why did someone trash your car?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “Did they trash anybody else’s car?”

  “No.”

  “Did anyone else pass out?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did any of them get words scribbled on them?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  Dad narrowed his eyes at me. “So you were targeted specifically. Why?”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. How could I tell him that it was because of him? Mom sat patiently, but I could see her breathing hard. She was dying to tell him, “I told you so,” but she wouldn’t say anything about it unless I asked her to. I wanted to, I really did. It would have been so much easier to sit there and watch passively as she argued on my behalf. But I couldn’t do that anymore. It was time to grow up.

  I inhaled deeply. “A lot of the people at school have friends and family in jail and prison right now who wouldn’t be there without you,” I said. “A lot of them are concerned that I’m passing information on to you, and you to the cops. I have a couple of friends who are well-liked by everybody, and they threw the party to show the others that they didn’t consider me a threat. It backfired.”

  A thoughtful spark lit dad’s eyes. “Now that’s interesting,” he said. “You know, I have noticed a lot of the defendants are about your age. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea to get you involved with them. You wouldn’t even have to remember anything, just wear a wire and don’t pass out again.”

  I stared at him. Mom stared at him. This time she didn’t hold back. “Are you out of your damn mind?” she demanded. “Our baby has been miserable all school year because of bullies who are convinced that she is betraying them, they attacked her, they left a dead cat on the porch, they ruined her car, and your response is to tell her to do exactly what they are accusing her of doing?”

  “I said it was an interesting idea,” he said calmly. “I wasn’t telling her to do it. And what’s this about a dead cat?”

  Mom shot me an apologetic look, then sighed. “I didn’t tell you because I knew it would worry you. Someone left a dead cat outside by the door, that’s all.”

  “Hm,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her like he didn’t believe her. “I see.” He ate a few bites, then looked back at me. “Where is your car now?”

  “I’m not really sure,” I told him. “It’s in an alley somewhere around 5th and Oak.” I should have asked Blayze, I thought, but Dad didn’t seem fazed.

  He nodded. “I’ll handle it.”

  “I know what will help with the marks,” Mom said, patting my hand. “I’ll mix it up for you after breakfast.”

  And that was that. Conversation moved on to Mom’s projects and Dad’s work, the weather and how it was starting to warm up, and where we should take our vacation that year. There was no talk of punishment, though if anything I’d ever done deserved it, I thought this did. But that wasn’t how they did things, not with me. Which was strange to me, seeing as Dad’s entire job was to ensure that other people were punished.

  I didn’t think too hard about it. I already had a splitting headache, I didn’t need to make it worse. Later that day, Blayze texted to offer me a ride to school the next day, with the stipulation that he’d be dropping me off a block away. Of course I accepted—my only alternative was the school bus, and there was no way I was going to trap myself like that. Not if I could help it.

  22

  I was exhausted by the time I got back to Eddie’s Sunday morning, but it was worth it. Nobody approached Arlena’s house and her dad was an early riser, so I was able to get out of there by six, confident that she was in safe hands. Sam was curled up on my bed, dead asleep, but Eddie believed in the kind of luxury which included putting sofas in the bedrooms, so I crashed on the couch.

  I managed to get a few hours in before I was awakened by a pillow hurtling at light-speed into my face.

  “Where did you really go?” Sam demanded.

  “What?” I blinked up at her dark, angry silhouette, half-blinded by the sunlight streaming in through the window behind her.

  “I talked to your mother,” Sam said snottily. “She says you—and your friend—never showed up. Who’s the friend, Blayze?”

  God damn it. I’d forgotten that Sam still talked to my mother occasionally. More often than I did, honestly, not that the bar was set particularly high. I rubbed the sleep out of my face and sat up stiffly, then looked at her and sighed.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you have to listen to the whole thing before you go off. Deal?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me. “No,” she said. “I’ll go off when I fuckin’ feel like it. You better tell me who your friend is and where you were last night, and you better tell me now.”

  Here we go. “I spent the night in my truck.”

  She scoffed. “Uh-huh, sure you did. Why? Why would you spend the night in your truck when you could have spent the night here, in bed, with me? Speaking of which, why did you crash on the couch when you came back? The bed is right there! It’s not like we’ve never shared a bed before!”

  I winced.

  “Oh, what, does that memory disgust you? Why even be with me then, if I’m so gross? You were out there fucking someone else, weren’t you, someone a little more your type?”

  “Come on, Sam, stop it.”

  “Stop it? Stop what? Stop telling the truth? You don’t want to fuck me because you’re still stuck on that stupid bitch Arlena. How ‘bout you admit it already and stop playing with me?”

  “Okay,” I said.

  She opened her mouth to say something else, then stopped. “What?”

  I shrugged. “You’re right. I still have feelings for Arlena. I always have. I didn’t want to, trust me. I wanted to hate her, but I couldn’t. Still can’t. And it doesn’t feel right to sleep with you when I’m feeling this way about somebody else.”

  She cocked her head to one side. “Are you still with her, Blayze?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “I heard rumors.”

  I nodded. “I know you did. I didn’t cheat on you with her. I wouldn’t do that to either of you. She asked for my help, and I gave it to her. She’s been really scared, so I hugged her. People see what they want to see. You know how things are around here.”

  She tensed up like she was going to start yelling again, then made a disgusted noise and flopped down on the couch next to me. She slid a pursed-lip look in my direction, then rolled her eyes. “God damn it, Blayze.”

  “What? You think I’m lying to you?”

  “No,” she said begrudgingly. “I know you’re not, that’s the problem.”

  I frowned, confused. “Why is that a problem?”

  She sighed at me. “You’re too good, Blayze. You always have been. You’ve got this whole moral character thing going on, with this knight in shining armor complex.”

  I thought that over. “I’m really trying to understand the problem, Sam. I swear I’m not playing dumb. I don’t get it.”

  She smiled sadly, shaking her head. “You’re too good for me,” she said softly. “You get angry. That’s your flaw. One flaw, and you don’t even dive into it. You’ve never hit me, and I know I deserved it sometimes.”

  “Sam—”

  “No, shut up. Don’t tell me I never deserved it, I know better. I’m all chaos and you’re like this…this…I don’t know… this stream of water, with rapids every once in a while. If I’d been born in you
r shoes, I wouldn’t have turned out like you. I know that. You’ve got something inside of you that keeps you from going off the rails like the rest of us.”

  “I don’t know about that—”

  “You don’t have to,” she said. “It’s true. It’s factual. You managed to grow up through this dumpster fire and come out on the other side stable. It’s not fair, but it is what it is.”

  “What are you saying, Sam?”

  She sighed. “I’m saying that I’m ready for you to tell me what happened last night.”

  I told her. I didn’t leave anything out, but I watched her face while I talked. She didn’t react to anything immediately, which made me wonder if she already knew about the things that had happened to Arlena. When I was finished, I waited. She sighed heavily and shook her head.

  “You see?” she said. “That’s some shiny knight shit right there. You rescued the girl and guarded the castle. And I was here, passed out drunk, hoping you’d come in here and take advantage of that.”

  I frowned. “Hoping? Sam, I would never—”

  “I know you would never,” she snapped. “But maybe that’s what I want. Maybe I want you to push me around and fuck me when I’m stupid drunk and scream at me in the middle of a party. Maybe I want you to tear me apart.”

  “Why?” I asked, horrified.

  Her big eyes were shiny with tears. “Because I deserve it,” she said. “Because I need it. Because there’s this—thing inside of me that needs to fight, always needs to fight, and sometimes needs to lose. Because it feels inevitable.” A tear slid from her eye and I reached out to brush it away, but she slapped my hand. “Don’t,” she said.

  So I didn’t. We sat in silence for a while, then she let out a shaky sigh. “I’m gonna go raid the fridge,” she said.

  “Okay. I’m going to go talk to Eddie. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on Arlena last night.”