by Katie May
Shaking my head, I reluctantly follow Nana up the ladder, the wood in desperate need of sanding.
“Home sweet home!” Nana cheers once my head finally breaches the hole. She’s standing in the center of the desolate room, a wide, enigmatic smile on her face. “Well? What do you think?”
I think…
That this is going to be a long fucking school year.
I can tell that Nana and her men at least tried to clean it, but I still catch a myriad of spider webs hanging from the low rafters. It’s a large space, at least horizontally, though there are some sections where I’ll need to duck down in order to get by. A single triangular window rests against the similarly shaped wall. Ambient sunlight pours through, mixing its light with the single bulb hanging from the wooden ceiling. A bed sits directly beneath the window, with fresh blankets and pillows. Besides that, there’s nothing but a dresser, desk, and nightstand. It’s cute and practical, but not necessarily homey. There’s no mold, fortunately, but the wooden ceiling rafters look like they haven’t been dusted in years.
Still, it’s better than what it could be, and I know better than to take little things like housing for granted.
“I love it. Thank you, Nana,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around her waist. She startles in surprise, a soft noise escaping, before she hugs me back just as fiercely.
“I missed you, kiddo.”
“I missed you too.”
I don’t know how long we stay that way, but it’s long enough for Gabriel to clear his throat from down below. At least, I’m assuming it’s Gabriel. He seems like an asshole.
“Well…” Nana steps away and fidgets with the tie on her bathrobe. “I’ll let you settle in for a bit. Is there anything else you need? Anything at all?”
“No, I’ll be fine,” I reply, my mind already elsewhere. At this point, there’s really only one location it wanders—to them.
“Dinner will be ready in a couple hours. Polo is a great cook. Absolutely divine. If you don’t need anything else…”
“Get back to your boyfriends, Nana. I’ll be fine,” I assure her, my eyes latched on the immense trunk sitting at the foot of my bed.
“I love you, sweet girl. Always remember that.” With a tenderness I’m not used to seeing, let alone experiencing, she kisses my forehead. She trots over to perch herself at the edge of the hole and, forgoing the ladder, jumps into one of her men’s arms.
Honestly, I don’t know if I’m disgusted or proud of her relationship with three significantly younger men. I suppose that I should be happy for her. Love is love, after all, and they’re four consenting adults.
But damn, if it isn’t strange to see my nana getting her rocks off with three men only a few years older than me.
Once more shaking my head, I drop to my knees in front of the ancient chest before me. The black paint is chipped and turning a rustic red with age. A single lock secures the contents, a green tint surrounding it.
Licking my lower lip, I open my palm and aim my hand at the lock. The entire chest begins to vibrate as I push my magic into it with the intensity of a lightning bolt. After a moment, the lock drops to the ground with an audible clank and the lid flies open.
I peer inside at the contents, a wicked grin pulling up my lips. The first thing I see is a picture, freshly printed. My four tormentors pose for the camera, scowls marring their hideously handsome faces. With the pad of my thumb, I trace their features before pulling my hand away as if their pictures alone are poisonous.
“School starts tomorrow, boys,” I say darkly, removing object after object from my chest. Newspaper clippings. Photographs. Needles. An ancient spellbook. And then, finally, the four dolls I made just the month before. They almost resemble gingerbread cookies in shape, the brown fabric pulled tight over stuffing. Simple black buttons make up their eyes.
But wrapped around each of their necks, distinguishing one from another, are four different colors of hair. Red on one. Blond on another. Black on the third. Brown and purple on the final one.
“Let the games begin,” I whisper under my breath.
Come hell or highwater, the Devils of High Groves High School will pay.
Chapter 2
I wake up early on the first day of school, sliding out from beneath my covers and stretching my taut muscles. It’s still dark outside, the moon a tiny crescent shape in the velvety black sky.
Jumping to my feet, I make quick work of brushing through my white blonde hair. I debate whether or not I want to place it in a ponytail before deciding to leave it down. Nana has hung my dresses from one of the lowest rafters, and I quickly grab a long-sleeved black number with a sweetheart neckline. A splash of pink lipstick and some blush on my cheeks complete the look. As I gaze at myself in the mirror over the dresser, I can’t help but compare myself to the old me, the younger me.
I’m still the exact same but…different. I barely recognize the girl staring back at me. The only thing that has remained consistent is my amber eyes, burning like the flames of hell flicker within their depths. They were one of the many things that the students of High Groves Middle School bullied me for.
Freak, they said. Ugly. Unnatural.
For the longest time, those words would cut deep, flaying me open until I stood unloved and unwanted amidst a sea of monsters. But now, they ricochet off my skin, off my armor. I’m stronger because their taunts made me this way. You can only truly understand joy once you’ve experienced immeasurable pain.
Steeling myself, I blow a kiss at my reflection before grabbing my backpack off the ground.
Polo moving about the kitchen surprises me when I stop there to grab a quick breakfast to go. The smell of bacon sizzling on the stove assaults my senses first, followed immediately by the enticing, addictive scent of coffee brewing.
“Fuck, yes,” I breathe, gliding towards the pot.
“Cardinal told us you were a coffee addict,” Polo says lightly, scooping eggs and then a few pieces of bacon onto a plate. He slides it across the counter until it rests in front of me. “Gabriel went to pick it up last night.”
“Oh,” I murmur, suddenly feeling awkward. Still, I can’t deny the relief I feel at having the cup of liquid gold in front of me. Fuck, I have an entire arsenal of cheesy nicknames for coffee. Pretty sure I wrote an entire journal of them. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen is modern with granite countertops and top-of-the-line steel appliances. I half wonder if Nana bought all of these supplies when she discovered I would be staying with her. Wouldn’t surprise me in the least, if I’m being honest with myself.
“We wanted to,” Polo says firmly. Silence ensues as I sip from my mug and dig into the fluffy scrambled eggs. Nana is right—Polo cooks like a god.
When the man in question begins to wring his hands, I realize he wants to say more.
“Yeah?” I ask, quirking a silvery white eyebrow.
“I know this is weird for you,” he blurts out, and I gift him with a dry look. He gulps once before stubbornly forging on ahead. Man has balls, I’ll give him that. “We all just want you to feel comfortable. I know it’s not conventional… Okay, listen. We love your nana, and she loves us. It’s weird, I know, and not just because of our age difference. Though, technically, it’s not as much as you believe. We want you to feel comfortable here with us. We want to be a part of your life in any way you’ll allow us to.”
That’s just a whole bunch of nopes. Honestly, I can’t deal with this—them—now. What my nana does is entirely up to her, but I can’t say it’s not fucking weird.
“It’s fine,” I say evenly, when it appears as if Polo is still waiting for a response. “Just…just don’t let me see anything, okay? Like when she answered the door.”
Because yeah, the image of Christian groping my grandma is forever burned into my retinas. I might actually need bleach for that, thank you very much.
Polo has the decency to appear sheepish.
&
nbsp; “Sorry. That’ll never happen again. It’s just…Cardinal had just finished a spell…” He trails off again, raking his fingers through his brown hair.
I lift up a hand to stop him from speaking. “Say no more.” Please, for the love of all that’s dark and gloomy, say no fucking more.
My nana is a sex witch, one of the last of her kind. As such, she requires…err…certain stuff in order to perform her spells. Certain stuff that I shall not name out loud or else risk vomiting everywhere.
Polo chuckles softly, and I have to admit he’s handsome. Of course, I’m not attracted to him in any way, shape, or form—ew—but I can see why Nana chose him and his brothers. They’re definitely a catch.
You go, Nana.
“Do you need a ride to school?” Polo continues eagerly, as if my acceptance of their unconventional relationship gives him leeway to be a fucking grandfather to me. Honestly, I have no idea what he’s playing at.
“Nah. It’s only a twenty-minute walk. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, anxiety bleeding through his voice. “I don’t want anything happening to you. And it can get cold in the winter.”
“Fortunately for me,” I pause to stick a piece of bacon in my mouth, holding it between my teeth as I pour my coffee into a to-go mug, “it’s not winter, and I’m a badass witch who can look after herself.” Once I grab everything I need for my first day, I lift my free hand and wiggle my fingers. “Toodles.”
High Groves High School is significantly larger than the middle school, having been recently updated. It’s a single story building that branches in all directions like the spindly legs on a spider. You would think that a small town such as High Groves would have a petite brick building as their high school with a single flagpole erected on the front lawn. Instead, the modernistic school has a single row of windows sprouting down each hallway, showcasing their expensive electronics and appliances. The walls are a mash of brown, red, and even some green bricks, the combination surprisingly easy on the eyes. The main entrance stands taller than the rest of the school, sans the auditorium, with a shingled roof that curves steeply upwards.
While High Groves may be a small community, it’s still a rich one. Every kid over the age of sixteen has their own car, and I can’t think of one house that doesn’t have a heated, outdoor pool.
But these rich fucks are about to get what’s coming to them.
With a swagger to my step, I march right through the front doors as if I own the building. At this hour, there are only a few people scattered about. I recognize a chapter of the NHS meeting in the cafeteria, and a male and female couple sitting side by side in front of a stone wall.
I head to the main office and offer a sincere smile to the secretary.
Patricia Brooks had once been the secretary at the middle school before she transferred here. She was my only supporter back in the day, the only one who saw through the Devils’ bullshit.
“I don’t know if you remember me—” I begin sheepishly. Before I can even finish speaking, her mouth props open and she jumps up from her swiveling chair.
“Peony Simone! Is that you?” she gasps, waddling towards me with her arms outstretched.
“I missed you, Pat,” I whisper, accepting her embrace. “And you’re pregnant!” I pull back to get a good look at her, surprised to see the generous baby bump pushing at her cream-colored sweater. Her cheeks darken in a blush as she flickers her gaze down towards her belly.
“Met him two years ago,” she whispers, her voice taking on that wistful, dreamy quality all new lovers seem to have. “We’ve been inseparable ever since.”
“Good. I’m really happy for you.”
When I met her as a hormonal pre-teen contemplating suicide, she told me a little bit about her life. Back then, she’d been in her late twenties and had just gotten out of an abusive relationship. I’m extremely happy that she was able to find someone to love her. Pat’s a great woman, and I know she’ll be an amazing wife and mother as well.
After all, she saved my life, and she didn’t even know me.
“I heard you were coming back, but I didn’t believe it,” Pat exclaims, moving to once more sit behind her desk. “Are you here to pick up your class information, sweetie?”
“You know it.” I lean indolently against the counter before spotting a bowl full of jelly beans. Popping one in my mouth, I wait for her to print out my class schedule. I could’ve easily looked up this information online…if my mom or even Nana believed in a computer or internet. As it is, I’ll have to travel to the local coffee shop with my laptop in order to complete my assignments.
As she passes me the still warm paper fresh from the printer, her hand lingers on mine.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she whispers, casting glances in both directions. “Those bullies of yours…”
“I’m better now,” I promise, hoping to put her fears at ease. She has a right to be worried, but not for me this time. I refuse to be a victim again. I’m better than that, stronger than that, and the last thing I want or need is to venture back to the dark place that almost killed me five years ago.
“Good. That’s good,” she whispers, but she doesn’t sound convinced. There’s a slight furrow between her brows, as if she’s attempting to calculate a difficult math equation. “You’ll come to me if you need anything, right?”
My heart thumps erratically in my chest at her words. At the sheer prospect that someone actually cares about me in this hellhole.
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” I say, using my finger to create an X over my chest. “I’ll even pinkie promise if you want me to.”
She rolls her eyes at my dramatics before shooing me away.
“Go. Get ready for class.”
“Yes, ma’am.” With a two-fingered salute, I duck out of the office and into the hallway. It’s already busier than it was when I first arrived less than ten minutes ago. Students, like me, are carrying cups of coffee and are rubbing sleep from their eyes.
I understand school. I honestly do.
But why the fuck do classes need to start so early in the morning? It’s not even light outside, for fuck’s sake.
As I walk through the halls, heading towards the gymnasium, I can’t help but notice the appreciatory stares I get from both guys and girls alike. They’re not hateful as they had been years ago. They’re not even calculating.
It’s nice to be the recipient of attention that isn’t cruel or domineering.
I stop in front of the wing of the school that houses the three gyms, weight room, and aerobics classroom. If my calculations are correct…
With a spring to my step, I venture into the weight room first, where both the football team and cheerleading squad are hard at work. My eyes survey all of the occupants quickly before landing on my two targets.
Karsyn Alder and Mariabella Stevens.
The quarterback of the football team and his perky, beautiful cheerleader girlfriend.
Karsyn currently has his back to me, deep in conversation with a man I recognize to be his tight end. Mariabella is giggling with one of her friends, blonde hair slicked back into a tight ponytail and perky breasts on display in her skin-tight sports bra.
I chance another glance at Karsyn, but he’s still oblivious to my presence. That’s okay, I suppose. He’ll come to see me soon enough.
With considerable effort, I wrench my gaze away from his sweat-soaked gray shirt and focus on the cheerleading coach, Mrs. Watson. I memorize her face briefly before stepping back out.
My heart hammers a mile a minute as pain—thick and cloying pain—cascades through me. I thought seeing Karsyn would be like eating a bad taco. You feel nauseous for a second, but then get over it. Instead, it’s as if every bandage I painstakingly applied to myself has been ripped from my skin. The once scabbed over wounds are now open and bleeding, visible for the world to see.
Fuck!
I press my head against the wall to control my eccentric
breathing before willing myself to relax.
I didn’t even see his face, and already, it feels as if my world is shattering around me.
Why did I think that this would be easy?
Life, I have come to realize, is never easy. It’s a fucking landmine, and one wrong move can send everything into flames.
Hands shaking, I remove my notepad from the side of my backpack. It’s spelled so no one will be able to read my words unless I let them.
Next to Karsyn’s name, I write, In weight room, 7:23 AM. With Mariabella.
The next name on the list is Cassian Jereome.
Where, oh where, will I find my little musician at this hour of the day?
Without preamble, I head in the opposite direction of the gym, towards the auditorium. According to my research, the builders added several practice spaces adjacent to the band room. The first two I find are empty, but the third…
I wasn’t able to get a good look at Karsyn, but I am able to see Cassian Jereome. His dark skin glints in the radiant LED lights up above, his eyes closed in pleasure. A guitar droops from his fingers as a girl kneels between his legs, sucking his cock. He moans slightly, tightening his fingers in the girl’s rich red hair. I know I should look away. I want to, but I can’t prevent my eyes from tracing every contour of his devilishly beautiful face, similar to the person I once knew and despised, yet so, so different. Older. Handsomer. No longer a boy, but a man.
When the girl releases his cock and begins to lick it like a lollipop, I can’t help but note how large it is. I’m not even sure my entire hand will fit around it.
You know, for the sole purpose of pulling it off and tossing it to feral dogs.
According to my research, Cassian doesn’t have a girlfriend, so this must be one of his groupies. While he’s not well-known throughout the world or even the United States, he’s a household name in this area. Half the population believes he’s going to be the next big thing—bigger than even Queen or the Beatles.
