by E. M. Snow
“What on Earth is going on here?”
I jump at our teacher’s thunderous voice. Glancing over my shoulder, I feel the blood drain from my face as he storms toward us, face flushed red.
“Ellis!” he barks, taking in the scene. “What did you do?”
I stare at him, my mouth hanging open like a fish, unable to speak. This is bad. This is really, really bad. I just hit Laurel, the student council president. I may have even broken her nose. And that motherfucker must have cost a fortune.
They’ll expel me for this! They’re going to expel me, and I’ll have to go back to Georgia.
“Mr. Norris, I…” I don’t know what to say. I can see my future flushing down the drain right before my eyes, all because I couldn’t keep my damn temper under control.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
“Ellis, you’re in so much trouble, I—”
“Mr. Norris, hold up!” I blink as Gabe suddenly appears at my side, slightly out of breath, his red hair spiked with moisture. Where the hell did he come from?
“Carlson? What do you want?”
Gabe holds his hands up. “I saw the whole thing, sir. You can’t blame Ellis for this.”
What. The. Fuck?
Have I stepped into a different dimension?
Did Laurel punch me instead and this is all a side effect of my concussion?
“What’d you see?” Mr. Norris asks, folding his arms over his wide chest.
“Laurel stole Mallory’s clothes and wouldn’t give them back,” Gabe quickly explains. “She was taunting her with them, sir. Mallory was just defending herself.”
Our teacher glances toward Laurel, who’s sobbing as though she’s dying, and arches a brow as he looks back at us.
“Defending herself? Seems a little extreme of a defense, don’t you think?”
Gabe looks at me for a second, then gives a one-shouldered shrug. “Maybe, but can you really blame her? I mean, Laurel’s not the best example of Christ-like behavior and she’s supposed to be president of the Student Christian Fellowship, so…”
The greedy televangelist’s hard-partying, sex-addict kid just dropped the Jesus card.
It takes all my strength not to snort out loud.
Mr. Norris appears to consider Gabe’s words for several moments. At length, he releases a weary sigh and shakes his head. “Justified or not, we can’t have students smashing each other in the face. Detention, Ellis. You’ll clean up the cafeteria after breakfast and dinner for the next week, got it?”
A breath of relief escapes my lungs so fast, my voice is squeaky when I reply, “Yes sir.”
At least I’m not expelled.
Mr. Norris goes to help Laurel up and takes her out of the gym. Her flock follows after them, crooning words of comfort her way, and throwing insults my way.
When they’re gone, I take a moment to collect myself before I turn my gaze to Gabe. “Thanks,” I say slowly. “That was … surprising of you.”
Bending down, he picks up my panties and twirls the scrap of pink lace and cotton on his finger.
“Nothing comes for free around here.”
“What—”
Before I can ask him what he means, he pockets my underwear and makes his way out of the gym without a backwards glance.
12
My perfect attendance is getting shot to hell, and it’s all Laurel’s damn fault.
When I reported for my first day of detention this morning after breakfast, I knew it was going to be hell, and I wasn’t wrong. People lingered in the dining hall specifically to mock me. Whatever reverence they might have felt toward me when they thought I was sleeping with Saint vanished the moment word got out the rumors weren’t true. I’m back to being reviled, and after what I did to Laurel, the target on my back only got bigger.
She was in the dining hall, waiting for me. Ready to make me miserable and torment me. She and her friends had spread out over three tables and destroyed the areas around them. Overturned coffee cups, syrup covering chairs, food littering the floor—each table looked like an army of toddlers had gone to town on it. I did take some comfort in the fact that Laurel looks like absolute shit. Her nose is hidden behind a plastic cast, and the dark bruises under her eyes made her look like a racoon. As haughty as she’d been as I was forced to my knees to clean up her mess, she looked pathetic.
By the time I was finally done cleaning, it was well past my hour for detention and I was covered in filth. Rushing back to my dorm, I’d had to shower and change as fast as possible, but it was no use in the end. I couldn’t make up the lost time.
My lungs burn with my effort to make it to English class on time, even as my brain works to make peace with the fact that I won’t.
My classroom is just around the corner, and as I go careening around it, I barely avoid running into a broad back making its way down the hall at a more leisurely pace. I stumble and nearly fall, but a strong hand catches my arm and helps me find my balance again.
“Thank…” I trail off as I realize it’s Liam standing next to me. I don’t know anyone else with a tattooed wrist, and I creep my gaze up his navy blazer until my blue eyes lock with his deep brown irises. He frowns down at me, his dark brow wrinkling as he quickly releases my arm.
“Watch where you’re going,” he growls, tugging his blazer sleeve back down to cover the ink.
“Sorry,” I mumble, feeling awkward and unsure of myself. This is the first we’ve spoken since the night of the beach party. I’d never even thanked him for saving me.
He’s already resumed walking toward class, so I hurry to catch up. I want to ask him why he’s late too, but I don’t dare. It’s clear he’s not interested in rekindling our lukewarm relationship, and I don’t want to push him and make him dislike me anymore than he clearly does. When we both wander into class, well after the bell has rung, all eyes turn to stare at us.
Including our teacher, Miss Stewart. She doesn’t look pleased as she folds her arms over her chest and taps a finger impatiently against her elbow.
“Thank you for joining us, Ellis, Halloway. You made it just in time to be assigned as each other’s partner.”
“What?” we both blurt out in unison. I glance toward Liam, and his eyes are wide.
Miss Stewart gives a slow nod and stares at us like we’re idiots. “You’ll be writing a collaborative paper and presenting on the works of Charles Dickens. I suggest you quickly make arrangements to meet up after school and take your seats.”
This day just gets better and better.
We drag our feet to the back of the class, but before we part ways to find our seats, Liam pauses.
“You free tonight?” he grumbles, successfully avoiding direct eye contact, as if looking at me might infect him.
I nod but of course he doesn’t see it. “Yeah.”
“Meet in the library at seven?”
“Yeah. All right.”
It’s clear those few words are more than he wanted to have to say to me. Without sparing me another glance, he gives me his back and goes to his seat. I watch him get settled for several seconds before releasing a sigh of frustration and disappointment, and then make my way to my desk as well.
I make it a point not to be late to our meetup. Thankfully, Laurel and her crew got into big trouble for trashing part of the dining hall this morning, so the mess I clean up after dinner is way more manageable. I’m able to get to my dorm, get changed, and head to the library with plenty of time to spare. It’s a relief, as I’m not sure Liam will take kindly to being left waiting.
When I arrive at the library, there aren’t many people around, which isn’t surprising for a Thursday night. A lot of Angelview’s students start their weekends a day early and show up to their Friday classes hung over, if they show up at all. It shouldn’t be hard to find him.
I wander around for a little while, but Mr. Tattooed, Dark, and Brooding is nowhere to be found.
“You better not stick me with all the work, dick,” I grumbl
e under my breath. I come to the end of a row of bookshelves and turn around the end to head down the next aisle, but I freeze in my tracks at the scene I stumble upon.
Jon Eric and Finnegan, the two douchebags from the football team, are standing in the middle of the row, and they have another kid pinned by his throat against the shelves. The guy is smaller, likely a freshman, and his face is red and wet with tears.
“You’re a pretty little bitch, aren’t you?” Jon Eric sneers. It’s his hand around the kid’s throat, and I see his big fingers flex as he squeezes. “Too pretty to be a guy. If we checked, would we find a cock between your legs, or a pussy?”
“My bet’s on pussy,” Finnegan chuckles, his eyes flashing with a horrifying mix of excitement and cruelty. I watch as he cups the poor kid between his legs and jostles his hand, and my chest goes cold. The freshman whimpers and struggles to break free of them, but it’s no use. They’re bigger and stronger, and he doesn’t stand a chance.
“Our favorite game is fucking up little shits like you,” Jon Eric declares. “You don’t get to be on our team without paying the admission fee. Isn’t that right, Finnegan?”
“That’s right.” Finnegan reaches for his zipper and my stomach turns. They’re not just harassing this boy. They’re going to assault him.
A thought enters my head that feels like a revelation. I remember what Loni told me about Nick, and how in addition to being beaten, he was … violated. Everyone assumes it was Saint and his friends, but I can’t see them doing that to someone. They’re assholes, but I don’t think they’re monsters. Not like this, anyway.
It wasn’t them that hurt Nick.
It wasn’t Saint.
It was these sick fucks.
My feet begin moving before I fully comprehend what’s going on, and my mouth drops open to announce my presence.
“Hey!” I bark, charging down the aisle. “Leave him alone!”
I’ve startled them enough that Jon Eric releases the kid’s throat. He doesn’t waste any time as soon as he’s free. Turning, the freshman takes off down the aisle, disappearing from sight. I can’t blame him, even if he did just leave me alone with these animals.
It seems to be a common theme around here.
Jon Eric and Finnegan don’t seem to care about the Freshman now. They’re attention is focused solely on me. “Hey, bitch,” Jon Eric growls. “You just interrupted our good time.”
“Yeah, well, can’t say I’m fucking sorry,” I growl, coming to a stop. The kid is safe and away, and it’s my turn to do the same. I begin backpedaling, intent on making a hasty exit, but Finnegan is too fast for me.
He lunges at me and snags my arm, yanking me toward him. I crash into his large chest and his fingers dig into my biceps painfully. He turns me and presses me up against the bookshelves in the exact spot they had the Freshman pinned.
Oh, shit.
Oh, fuck.
This is bad. This is really, really bad and suddenly, I can’t quite breathe as panic shoots through me like lightning.
Finnegan makes room for Jon Eric, who wraps his hand around my throat. This is nothing like when Saint did it, this cuts off my air, making me feel like there’s a slowly inflating balloon in my head. The guy must get off on choking people. And I can see by the crazed look in his eyes that pain, not dominance, is his number one goal.
“This is our lucky night, Finn,” Jon Eric chuckles and alarms blare in my head when I catch a whiff of the booze on his breath. “I’ve been wanting a taste of this girl’s cunt. Want to find out why she’s got Angelle so twisted up, the prick.”
“Let me—” I start, but he squeezes his fingers, stealing my words and breath and any last threads of courage. I struggle and claw at his arm, but he doesn’t relent until stars start exploding in my vision. Before I can pass out, he lets up his grip and I gasp air into my desperate lungs.
“Did you fuck them all?” Finnegan asks, reaching out to sift a strand of my dark hair between his fingertips. “Halloway’s got it bad for you, too.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s let them all go at her at once.” Jon Eric vibrates his hand a little and I gag. “Is that it, slut? Do you let them all fuck you? Is that why they all seemed so fucking pussy-whipped? Wonder who gets which hole…”
“Go to hell,” I manage to spit out.
Jon Eric squeezes again and my lungs burn. I dig my nails into his arm, drawing blood, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. He’s smiling like a madman as he chokes the life out of me, and I think he might be capable of actually killing me. Finnegan’s certainly not going to stop him. I try to kick out at them, but I’m growing woozy and weak.
“Careful, she’s going to pass out,” Finnegan says, though he doesn’t sound at all concerned. In fact, he sounds … thrilled.
“That’s fine,” Jon Eric replies. “I don’t need the bitch conscious. Not as long as I’ve got spit and—
“And just what do you think you’re doing, touching something that belongs to me?”
Jon Eric’s hand instantly loosens, and air rushes back into my lungs. It burns but is such a relief I let out a cry. He and Finnegan turn to glare down the row, and after taking myself a moment to catch my breath, I also look to see who just saved my damn life. My eyes go wide, but I shouldn’t be surprised.
Standing at the end of the aisle, his face dark with quiet fury, is Saint.
13
The air is thick with deadly tension as he stares down Jon Eric and Finnegan.
“I’ll ask again,” he growls, the embodiment of menace, “what are you two doing playing with my toy?”
I’m so relieved he’s stopped them, I don’t even care that he’s referring to me like I’m his property. In this moment, all I want to do is run to him and hide behind his broad back. He’s an asshole, but I know he’ll keep me safe.
He wants to be the one to break me, after all.
I can tell Jon Eric and Finnegan are nervous by the stiffness of their shoulders, but when John Eric speaks, his tone is surprisingly casual.
“Hey man, we’re just having a bit of fun.”
Saint takes a menacing step forward. Raising his hand, he crooks a finger.
“Come here, Mallory.”
I don’t hesitate to obey, which speaks to exactly how terrified I am right now. Shoving past the psychopaths, I hurry to Saint and slip behind his back. The stare-down between all three of them continues for several moments more, but Jon Eric finally sniffs and shakes his head.
“Shit. No bitch is worth this. Come on, Finn.”
The two make their way down the aisle toward us, but Saint doesn’t move, forcing them to squeeze around him. I grab onto the back of Saint’s soft t-shirt and bury my face against his back as they pass by, the scent of his cologne filling my senses. They don’t try to touch me as they continue on their way, but I don’t let go of Saint.
We stand in total silence until his low voice rumbles, “They’re gone.”
Exhaling, I immediately release him, like I’ve been burned, and take a step back. He slowly turns to face me, his eyebrow raised and full lips quirked.
“Didn’t take you for the clingy type.”
“I didn’t take you for the hero type,” I murmur, gazing up at him, feeling oddly shy.
He scowls. “I’m not your fucking hero. Like I said, I don’t like others playing with my toys. They needed to be made aware that if they touch you, I’ll kill them.”
He sounds so serious, a shiver races through me.
“What are you even doing here?” I ask, massaging my fingertips over the spot that Jon Eric had gripped. Is he following me now?
His nostrils flare in irritation, and he turns his gaze away. “Liam asked me to come down and tell you he wasn’t going to make it. Something came up.”
He would have surprised me less if he’d said he wanted to dress me up like slave-girl Princess Leia, with the chain and everything. Passing on a message for his friend just seems so … normal. Nothing about
Saint ever seems normal and I wasn’t even aware that word existed in his world.
“Okay, well … I guess I’ll go back to my room, then.” I don’t know what else to say, and I’m not about to admit I’m scared shitless to walk outside in the dark by myself now. What if Jon Eric and Finnegan are out there waiting for me? Fear grips my insides, and before I can stop myself, a tremor vibrates through me.
Saint lets out a heavy sigh. “Fuck. Do you want me to walk you back?”
The irony of this situation isn’t lost on me. Saint, the person I should fear most, is offering to escort me to my dorm to protect me from people even more terrible than him.
Better the devil you know, I guess.
After a beat, I nod, then glance away from him. “That’d be really … really nice of you.”
I look at him again in time to witness the roll of his stunning eyes, as if he finds the very notion that he could be nice revolting. “Don’t get the wrong idea. This doesn’t change anything between us.”
“Of course not,” I immediately agree out loud, even if I have my doubts.
“Let’s go, I don’t have all night.” His tone is gruff and impatient, but he doesn’t hurry ahead of me as we begin making our way out of the library. He keeps pace with me, and stays close, though not so close that he’s touching me. It’s comforting without being overwhelming.
When we step out into the night air, I stumble slightly as my trembling increases. For a moment, I’m not sure I can keep going. What if they’re out there? What if they’re hiding, waiting?
“Stop doing that.” Saint’s large hand falls on my shoulder. The weight grounds me and I feel my fear dissipate enough that I can think straight again. I glance up at him, and he’s looking down at me. He doesn’t seem concerned, necessarily, but he doesn’t appear annoyed either.
I suppose that’s positive.
“Get your shit together, Ellis. I’m not going to carry your ass.”
