Like You Care: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Devilbend Dynasty Book 1)

by Kaydence Snow

  “Or a man,” Bonnie added, crossing her arms and leaning against the tiles next to the mirror. “Do you pee standing up like a man?”

  “Her name is Phil.” Steph giggled. It would’ve been a cute sound if they all weren’t looking at me with promise in their gazes.

  No, no, no, please no. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This year was supposed to be different.

  I dropped my gaze to the stained beige tiles and walked to the sink, drawing my shoulders forward to make myself as small as possible. All I could do now was be quiet and hope I could get out of there fast.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” Steph giggled again. “We’ve been calling you Phil this whole time, but you really are a man, aren’t you?”

  “Those tits must’ve cost a fucking fortune, then.” Kelsey spoke for the first time, her tone bored, her eyes on her phone. I was dying on the inside, and she was double tapping pics on Insta. Bitch. Her comment probably came from jealousy. She was super-model thin but flat chested, and I was comfortably filling out a D cup. Not that I’d ever say that to her out loud. It was easier to silently wait it out. They’d get bored eventually.

  “Oh my god.” Bonnie giggled, and the others all laughed with her. “Did you—”

  “No,” Madison cut her off. The laughter died. No one dared interrupt Madison. “She’s not a man.”

  I shut the water off. Steph was blocking my access to the hand drier. I decided to just leave with my hands wet.

  Each girl took a step closer to me, as if they’d practiced it, as if they instinctively knew I was about to bolt.

  I froze again, tried to calm my breathing so my boobs would stop heaving. I didn’t want any more attention on them.

  Madison kept speaking. “Can’t you see Philomena’s turned into a woman? Look how beautifully she’s done her makeup.”

  Her voice was so steady, earnest even, that my eyes snapped up in surprise. She gave me a warm smile, her own makeup impeccable. Her linen shorts and V-neck hung on her perfect frame as though they’d been made for her. She tilted her head slightly and took a strand of my hair, gently twirling it between her fingers. I’d gotten up half an hour early to put a slight wave in my usually dead-straight hair.

  I cleared my throat. This had never happened before. I had no idea what to do. My instincts were screaming to get the fuck away from these monsters, but Madison was saying nice things with a perfectly straight face.

  “Your hair is so soft,” she whispered, twirling more of it around her manicured finger.

  After an extended silence, I cleared my throat again and managed to croak, “Thanks?” It came out sounding like a question.

  Madison gathered more of my hair into her hand, tangling her fingers in it, and a heavy dread settled in the pit of my stomach. Her fingers scraped my scalp, and she yanked, making me wince.

  The others shifted—predators scenting blood.

  Madison laughed. It started out as a light chuckle and quickly turned manic, her wild eyes inches from mine as she laughed literally in my face.

  “Thanks?” she mimicked. “Fucking pathetic.” She punctuated her words with another yank. I cried out and instinctively reached up to wrap my hands around her wrist.

  The others moved, pulling my hands behind my back.

  Tears stung my eyes.

  “You’re not a man, Phil.” Madison shook her head, her eyes narrowed. “But you’re not a woman either. You’re fucking nothing. And we can’t have you walking around, lying, pretending to be something. You think covering up that hideous thing on your face makes you better? You’re a fucking joke. And we can’t have anyone forgetting that, can we?”

  No one said anything. My labored breathing echoed off the old, chipped tiles. The side of my head where Madison was still pulling on my hair stung like a bitch, and my neck was starting to hurt from the odd angle. A tear slid down my cheek.

  “Can we?!” Madison shouted into my face.

  “No.” I closed my eyes—the next best thing when I couldn’t move my head to lower them.

  “Good.” She released my hair and patted my head as if I were a dog.

  My eyes flew open as the bitches holding me pushed me against the sinks.

  Madison walked to the back of the bathroom slowly, calmly. She gripped the handle of a mop that had been left in a bucket in the corner and turned back to face us. What idiot of a janitor had left that out? Bonnie giggled again, as if someone had handed her a puppy. Kelsey took a break from her scrolling to snap a picture as Madison raised the mop out of the bucket.

  It splatted on the tiles. She dragged the sodden thing across the bathroom.

  “No. Please.” I started to struggle, but I had no chance. There were four of them, two of them holding me down. The edge of the sink dug into my lower back as my shoulders pushed against the mirror. “I’ll take it off. Just let me go, and I’ll take it off right now. Please, Madison, please, don’t do this.”

  She stopped in front of me and flipped the mop so the shaggy, dripping head was level with my face. The abrasive smell of bleach hit the back of my throat.

  I sobbed, pleading with them to stop, to let me go, but it was pointless.

  They held me down as Madison shoved the mop into my face. I coughed and spluttered, the bleach making it hard to breathe, making my eyes water and sting. She roughly wiped at my face with the scratchy, disgusting strings until she was satisfied the makeup had been removed.

  The mop clattered to the ground moments before they released me, and I collapsed next to it, sobbing, pushing away from them. But I had nowhere to go; the sinks were already at my back.

  On their way out, someone dumped the rest of the filthy gray water over my head.

  I gasped and spluttered again, the smell making me gag.

  The door closed behind them, and I was alone once again.

  I refused to look at myself in the mirror when I finally gathered the strength to pick myself up off the floor. I just wrung out my ruined hair and washed up with clean water, splashing it onto my face over and over.

  As I turned the tap off, the door opened again. I flinched and turned to face it, chastising myself for stupidly not getting the fuck out of there before they came back.

  But it wasn’t them. Jessica Miller stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening as they took in my appearance, the mop and bucket, the water all over the ground.

  She’d smiled back that morning, but now the status quo had been reestablished. She lowered her head, turned around, and walked back out of the bathroom without saying anything.

  In some ways, that hurt even more than what those bitches had done to me.

  I knew in that moment that nothing would ever change. Not until I left.

  Last year, I’d had hope that if I tried hard enough, I could fit in, make people forget why they hated me.

  This year, I’d given up.

  With a heavy heart, I rounded the corner, and Devilbend North High School came into view—patchy dry grass and cracked pavement framing the low brown building with bars over the windows.

  I arrived with just enough time to go to my locker and get to my first class. Keeping my head down, my hair draped over the birthmarked side of my face, I sat off to the side about halfway back—not in the back with the assholes who thought they were cool and rebellious, and not in the front with the kids who were constantly called on to answer questions. I didn’t speak to anyone or look at anyone who wasn’t a teacher. I did my best to remain invisible, and I managed to get to lunch unnoticed and unscathed.

  “Hi, Phil.” Madison’s voice was so close I almost flinched, but I somehow managed to calmly put my books away and close my locker, revealing her pretty, made-up face as she leaned on the lockers next to mine. Kelsey was behind her, on her phone; the others milled about nearby, mostly ignoring me.

  I turned to leave, but Steph and Bonnie blocked my path. Clearly they were paying more attention than I thought. I sighed and waited. The corridor was packed. They weren’t ab
ove doing something mean to me in front of other people, but even they weren’t stupid enough to pull a stunt as bad as the bathroom incident when teachers were close by.

  “Where are you going? I’m just trying to say hi.” Madison stepped around her friends to stand in front of me.

  I kept my gaze on her purple kicks and said nothing.

  After an extended silence, she leaned in and spoke low, close to my ear. “How was your summer?”

  I kept my mouth shut. There was no right answer. If I replied, it would be thrown back in my face. If I tried to defend myself and was as much of a bitch to her as she was to literally everyone else . . . I shuddered to think.

  “Nothing to say?” Madison tapped her foot as I remained still. “Good. We don’t want a repeat of last year, do we? That bleach really fucked with my nails.”

  With a snicker, she led her sheep away, and I walked off in the opposite direction. At least we agreed on one thing—I didn’t want a repeat of last year either.

  I spent lunch in a back corner of the library. Food wasn’t technically allowed in there, but if I was quiet enough between the bookshelves, no one noticed. I ate my sandwich as I scrolled through my Instagram feed, which was mostly filled with makeup pics and baby animals. I followed every person doing makeup I could find, but I never posted anything, and I had no followers. I was a lurker, too scared to post any of the hundreds of pics of my own makeup I had hidden on my phone.

  Despite the horrible thing Madison and her friends had done to me, I hadn’t abandoned my makeup hobby. There was something cathartic about focusing on a single task and being able to see the finished product—about pretending to be someone else for the few minutes before I wiped it all off again.

  On my way out of the library, I heard that confident tone, the ocean-deep quality that wrapped around the smooth timbre of his words. For the first time that day, I lifted my head and looked for the guy I’d spent hours talking to on my balcony. The hallway was packed with students making their way to class, and I couldn’t see him anywhere.

  Then I rolled my eyes and remembered I had no idea what he looked like.

  It was just my pathetic heart hoping against hope that I might have something positive at school for a change. I didn’t even know if he went to school. He was probably older and way out of my league.

  I dropped my gaze again and wished for a hoodie for the millionth time that day.

  As I settled into my seat for my last class, I heard it again.

  I was just reaching into my bag to grab my English textbook when that voice made me pause, hunched over, my hand tightening around the book’s spine.

  “Yeah, we moved to Devilbend last week,” he said. There was no mistaking it this time. It was definitely Turner, and he was definitely walking right past my desk.

  “Yeah, nice.”

  I clenched my teeth. Jayden. The only person who made my life hell as much as Madison.

  “You gonna try out for the team?” Jayden asked.

  “Which team?”

  The two chairs in front of me scraped, and they sat down. I straightened and placed the book gently in front of me, keeping my eyes on the desk but straining to listen.

  “Oh, yeah.” Jayden laughed. “The football team.”

  “Yeah, I’ll think about it.” Turner sounded friendly, pleasant, like any guy having a normal conversation with a new person.

  I chewed my lip to hold in the sigh, fighting to keep the scowl off my face.

  Mr. Chen came in, demanding the class’s attention, and Turner and Jayden stopped talking. When I was certain everyone’s focus was on the front of the room, I slowly raised my eyes.

  My heart thudded in my chest. He sat directly in front of me, Jayden on his left. There were those broad shoulders I’d seen only in silhouette, the white cotton of a collared T-shirt stretched over them. He had dark blond hair, cropped short at the base of his neck but wavy and growing just past his ears on the sides. He needed a haircut.

  He reached up to scratch the back of his neck, and I nearly jumped as I looked away. But not before I noticed how long and strong his fingers looked, his nails square, the muscles in his arms flexing from the movement.

  I made sure to look only directly at my desk and the teacher for the rest of the class, as I usually did. All I needed was for someone to notice me staring at the new guy.

  It was lucky it was only the first day and we spent most of the class going over the syllabus, because I hardly heard a word Mr. Chen said.

  I was in so much trouble.

  I went straight to the balcony after school, but he never showed up. It was probably for the best—I had no idea what to say. I just had an irresistible urge to speak to him.

  I couldn’t do it at school though—they’d find a way to ruin it. Of course, once he realized who I was, what I looked like, the flirting would stop, but I wanted to at least stay friends. That meant ignoring the fuck out of him at school and staying out of his way.

  I still caught glimpses though. Anytime I heard his voice in the halls, I couldn’t help looking up. He was friendly, talkative; I saw him chatting to several seniors and even a few juniors, but I never hung around long enough to hear the conversations.

  He didn’t come to the balcony for several nights, and I started to think maybe he’d already realized who I was. But that wasn’t possible.

  I was so determined to avoid him at school I didn’t get a proper look at his face until my shift at the diner on Wednesday night.

  He came in with his dad—a taller, frownier version of Turner with gray hair at his temples. They sat in a booth, thankfully not in my section.

  Chelsea took their order while I stared at the beautiful boy so clearly out of my league. He had that defined jaw—not square exactly, but strong—and a heavy brow. Gone was the smiling, open guy who talked to everyone at school. This Turner matched his dad’s posture, leaning forward on the table with his shoulders hunched, his brow furrowed. I couldn’t even tell what color his eyes were.

  As soon as Chelsea walked away, they leaned back into each other, but not before Turner cast those dark eyes about the diner, as if checking for anyone listening in, or maybe looking for someone.

  I turned away to clear a table.

  “Philly, can you pour table three’s coffees for me?” Chelsea caught me just as I unloaded a tray of dirty dishes. “I’m busting for the toilet.”

  She ran off without waiting for a response.

  Shit. I picked up the coffee pot and swallowed around the ball of anxiety lodged in my throat. My gaze stayed on the ground as I approached their table.

  “. . . you sure?” Turner’s dad’s voice was as deep and gruff as it had been on the balcony the other night.

  “Yeah, Dad. But it hasn’t even been a week. I’m still learning the layout—” Turner cut himself off as I poured the coffee. He glanced up at me, my every nerve aware of him in my periphery as I hoped like hell my hand wouldn’t shake and spill coffee all over them.

  “Thank you, miss.” His dad gave me a small smile. I smiled back and nodded, the effort not to look at Turner directly almost crushing.

  Then I walked away and avoided Chelsea until they left.

  On Friday night, I walked out onto the balcony hardly even expecting him to be there. Maybe the feet smell had come back and they’d moved.

  “Hello?”

  His voice made me jump, my hand flying to my chest. “Fuck. You scared the crap out of me.”

  He chuckled. “Hey, neighbor.”

  I drew my cardigan closer, hunching against the light breeze, and smiled. “Hey, stranger.”

  “How was work?”

  “How’d you know I was at work?” Had he seen me? Maybe heard me talking to another customer? Fuck!

  “Uh . . . lucky guess? It’s late and . . . I swear I’m not an axe murderer, Mena.”

  Oh god—my name on his lips, uttered so casually and confidently. I wanted him to end every sentence he spoke to me with my name.<
br />
  “No, you’re just a stalker, Turner.”

  He laughed lightly and shifted, knocking the bamboo screen. It was getting a little cold, but I moved the chair out of the way and sat next to him, against the wall.

  “So? How was work?” he asked again. His light was off, and I couldn’t even see his silhouette. I reached up and flicked my light off too. For some reason, it felt easier to say what I wanted to say in the dark.

  “Work was fine. Same old.” I chewed on my bottom lip and blurted it before I chickened out. “How was school? It can be hard being the new kid, but I have a feeling you’re handling it just fine.”

  There was a beat of silence. My heart hammered in my chest, my throat, my whole damn body.

  “Now who’s the stalker?” He sounded amused, if a little wary.

  “It’s not stalking if I have a legitimate reason to be there.”

  “So, you go to Devilbend North High? What year are you in? Shit! Are you a teacher? I mean, not that it matters—to me. I wouldn’t care. Although that would be technically illegal, I guess. But I am eighteen, if that makes any difference.” As abruptly as he’d launched into his rambling, he cut himself off.

  My head swam a little, even as the grin spread over my lips.

  He cleared his throat. “Did I just make shit really awkward?”

  “What would technically be illegal, Turner?” I wasn’t sure why I was making this conversation even more awkward for him. Maybe I liked seeing a hint of him being just as nervous about this as me—at least in this moment. He was so damn confident and self-assured the rest of the time.

  He took a deep breath—he was so close, just on the other side of the screen. “It’s illegal for a teacher to have a relationship with a student, isn’t it?”

  “Is that what this is?”

  “Maybe it’s what it could be. Maybe it’s what I’d like it to be.”

  So fucking confident. So not what I was or ever would be. My smile drained away along with any excitement I’d had about this conversation, leeching out of me and into the cold concrete under my ass. “You don’t even know me.”

  “I know enough that I want to know more. Can I see you?” The bamboo screen shifted, his perfect fingers gripping the edge.