by Mae Doyle
Vindictive
High School Bully Romance
Kennedy Academy
Mae Doyle
Contents
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Five Years Later
This is a work of art/fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events, or places is purely coincidental. Any persons appearing on the cover image for this book are models and do not have any connection to the contents of this story.
All characters depicted in this work are unrelated consenting adults. This author assumes no responsibility for the use/misuse of this material.
© 2020 May Doyle
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Chapter 1
Clay
2 Years Ago
***
I never thought that this would be my life. I hate it.
I’m in the rain. Surrounded by friends and other people I barely know. Even though I have an umbrella, mud is caking onto my shoes. Every time I shift my feet, I feel it sucking at me. The wind’s blowing so hard that rain sprays into my face. I can feel it dripping down my skin, icy cold and biting, but I don’t try to wipe it away.
I’m watching my girlfriend get lowered into the ground.
Well, she’s not my girlfriend anymore. Not since the accident.
Tombstones stick up around us like teeth, angry and broken, but hers is bright white. Clean. Perfect. Like she was just a few days ago. Soon enough, though, I know that it will be covered with moss. Slowly, over time, it will crack and sink down into the ground, falling over on itself so that nobody can read her name on it.
“Pay attention, Clayton,” my dad hisses in my ear, squeezing my shoulder. “You need to look like you’re feeling a little remorse.” I’d love to turn and talk to him, but this is the most he’s spoken to me since I killed her. He and my mom can barely look at me. The only person in my house talking to me is my sister, Bethany.
As much as I’d like to, I can’t look at him. He has no idea how much remorse I feel that I’m the reason Tiffany’s cold body is in that casket.
None of them do.
It’s early afternoon, but the clouds are so low and heavy in the sky that it feels like it’s almost night. Everyone’s wearing black, except for Tiffany’s mom, who’s wearing pink. She looks out of place, but it is - was - Tiffany’s favorite color.
She looks like damn cotton candy. She teeters on skinny heels that keep sinking into the mud and has definitely had something to drink today. Her long hair is stuck to the sides of her face and her mascara’s running. Instead of looking like she’s mourning her daughter, she looks like she’s been out all night.
Partying.
I wonder what they’re going to do in her house tonight. Her parents have never been loud and outgoing, but I have a feeling that tonight they will be even more subdued. I can only imagine the cold silence that will settle over them as they think about what happened today.
And my house? Mine will also be quiet. I’m not grounded, not technically, but I don’t want to see anyone, and my parents sure as hell don’t want me around. Their son, the murderer. It’s better for everyone if I just lock myself in my room.
The pastor has finished talking and now people are throwing handfuls of dirt onto the coffin. It’s probably supposed to be romantic, but they’re clods of mud that fall with a wet thunk and hit the wood. I should take some and bury my girlfriend, but I can’t.
There’s already blood on my hands. I don’t need them to be muddy, too.
My feet are sinking into the dirt and I’ve given up holding my umbrella. Before I get even more soaked, Teague comes over and holds his over me.
“You don’t need to get dripping wet, man.” When I open my mouth to say something nothing comes out. I’m already dripping wet. I’m soaked to the bone, my suit sticking to my body like it was painted on. The chill from the cool air cuts through my skin and I shiver.
Teague gets it. He was there the night she died, although nobody else knows this. Nobody needs to know the real reason why Tiffany’s dead.
Now people are starting to leave the cemetery, but I have no desire to go. I want to stand here until I sink into the dirt. I want to die and be buried just like Tiffany.
Maybe then I can actually feel something again. The only thing I’ve felt since she died was cold.
Not happy, not horny. Nothing.
No remorse. I’m too far gone to feel remorse.
“Fuck the umbrella.” I grab it from Teague and throw it onto the ground. It splashes in a puddle, but neither one of us move to pick it up.
My dad is watching me, but nobody says anything.
“Fuck this.” I turn on my heel, mud caking to the bottom of my shoes.
“Where are you going?” Teague leaves his umbrella in the mud and walks to keeps up with me. “You need a ride home?”
I stare at him. “You think I can’t fucking drive anymore? That I’m a pussy after what happened?”
Teague pales a little but he doesn’t step back. I watch as rain drips down his hair and cheeks. It’s cold, but neither of us are wearing coats.
“No, you can drive. Shit, Clay, I was just trying to help you out.”
“I don’t want your help.” I push past him to the parking lot, digging into my pocket for my keys. “I just want to forget that any of this ever happened, okay? You think that you can do that for me? Just forget that any of this ever fucking happened.”
Teague lets me go, just like I knew he would.
We may be friends, but everyone’s scared of me now, even my best friend. We’ve been through hell, but he doesn’t want to risk getting too close to me anymore. This shit may be catching, and nobody wants a piece of what I have going on.
Nobody’s going to press charges against me, the fucking prince of the town. My dad is the judge, and nobody wants to piss him off.
Everyone knows that I’m the reason that Tiffany Morris is cold and dead in the ground, but nobody’s going to say a damn thing.
I slam the door to my car and feel the water soaking into the seat. The leather is supposed to be smooth and supple under my touch, but I’m sticking to it and I run my hand through my hair, flinging water to the passenger seat.
Fuck it. Fuck my new car that my parents bought me after the accident. Fuck everyone here who acted like they were close with Tiffany while she was alive.
She’s all I want and now she’s gone forever.
She was the only thing helping me hold it together. Now I don’t give a shit about anything. I broke the one good thing in my life and now I have nothing.
Chapter 2
Elle
There’s nothing pleasant about moving. Everything about it is hard, from packing boxes and hoping that nothing important breaks to unpacking and realizing that no matter how hard you try, your old life isn’t going to fit in with your new one. There isn’t any way to bring along all of the memories that you had with your friends.
In a b
ox in the corner of my room I still have stacks of photos that I haven’t bothered to unpack. It doesn’t matter if I do – none of my friends will come to visit me here. My family moved, and in doing so, I disappeared. It sucks.
This house, this town, everything about it sucks. Glancing in the mirror one last time, I tuck my hair behind my ear and try to smile.
The face looking back at me looks haunted and hollow. I consider swiping on a little mascara, but I don’t think that there’s really anything that I can do to fix the way I look. My cheeks are pale and my skin is dry because I’m not yet used to the new water at the house.
I could do with a complete makeover, but it wouldn’t help. It would still be the same me under the makeup, and I have a feeling that that person isn’t ever going to be enough.
Frankly, I look like shit.
Running my fingers through my hair, I pull it back and into a ponytail. Even my hair has lost its usual shine. Ever since I found out that my mom was going to be marrying Ted and we’d be moving, I haven’t really felt like myself.
That doesn’t bode well when moving to a new school. Leaning forward, I wipe a bit more of the fog off of my bathroom mirror and then take a step back. I’ve lost some weight in the past few weeks and my face looks more gaunt than normal.
So much for making a good first impression.
Even my tank top hangs off of me like it’s two sizes too big. Normally I’m happy with how I look, but the itchy fabric leaves me plucking it away from my skin and I feel hot and stifled in my outfit. I turn, checking myself out in the mirror, trying to imagine what the other kids are going to think when they see me.
I can’t imagine that it’s going to be nice.
I’ve never met any of the kids I’m going to go to school with, but I do know one thing: teenagers can smell blood in the water. That’s why I’m spending more time than I normally would trying to get ready. I want to make sure that nothing about me really stands out. If I can just blend in, make it through the rest of the year, and then graduate, then I’ll be good.
I’ve got this.
Well, that’s what I keep telling myself, but quite frankly? I still look terrible. On second thought, maybe a bit of mascara would help. I brush some on and then slap my cheeks, trying to bring some color back to them. If I didn’t look so fucking pale, like a corpse, maybe I could fit in better.
We’ve moved enough that I should be comfortable with it, but one more time in the middle of my senior year? Well, it sucks.
Taking one last look around my room before I leave, I sigh. We’ve only been in town for a weekend, and as much as I begged my mom to let me have the week off to get settled in before going to school, she said no.
Probably because she’s too excited to be spending the day breaking in her new bed with her new husband. He’s the reason that we moved states away from my hometown, and he’s the reason that I’m now being shipped off to Kennedy Academy.
“Only the best for my new daughter,” Ted had crowed when he handed me the information packet. What a load of shit. All high schools are the same, and calling it a prep school for advanced kids doesn’t make it any more special than any of the other high schools in the area.
No matter how much I pushed back against going there, he and my mom stood their ground. “We’re a united front honey,” she’d whispered to me later, when he wasn’t listening.
After he’d left my room.
I shiver and try to forget the way that he looks at me. Ted married my mom, for God’s sake, but the only thing he wants to do is stare at me. Even though he’s not with me, I still cross my arms on my chest and shiver. It’s impossible for me to disappear completely, no matter how hard I try.
I hate that my room doesn’t look like my space and it won’t for days. There are boxes stacked up against the wall and the movers lost my bed frame, so my mattresses are on the floor. It’s hard to relax and feel like this place is home when all of my things are still packed away.
It’s not like we were rich back in Florida, but even though our house was small and kind of shitty, we were happy. At least, I thought we were.
Maybe my mom hasn’t been happy for years. It just sucks that I have to trade my happiness for her to finally be happy.
Even though most of my things are still packed up, I did unpack my old teddy bear, which has made it through all of the moves I’ve been through. He’s perched on my bed next to my pjs. I’m already counting down the hours until I can come home and put them back on. In addition to my bear, my violin is probably my favorite possession in the whole world.
Outside my window I have a great view of the garden, which right now is mostly a dirt patch with some half dead roses growing in it. My mom promised that I could get some money from her to buy new plants, but now that we’re here, I don’t know that I’ll actually see a penny of it.
She’s great at making promises, but really shitty at following through on them. Not like that mattered when I was younger. I could always just spend time with my friends, but now that I don’t have anyone to rely on, it sucks.
I know that I should head downstairs for school, but I take a moment to look out my window. The trellis under my window looks old but I have a feeling I could still climb it without it breaking if I really wanted to. I’m smaller than a lot of kids my age, not only because I’m thinner than usual after the stress of moving, but I’m only 4” 11’.
Yeah, that makes for some fun times at school and some nicknames that I was glad to leave behind.
“Elle, the bus is almost here!” My mom’s voice carries easily through the paper thin walls of our new house and I grab my backpack and violin case before heading downstairs.
“You going to make new friends today? Gonna have a great day?” She offers me a piece of toast, but I ignore her, instead pouring myself a cup of coffee and dumping in some sugar. The white of it disappears into the swirling hot liquid and I give it a quick stir. I’ve been trying to train myself to drink my coffee black ever since I saw a detective on TV do it when I was younger, and while I was able to give up the creamer, I haven’t been able to pass on the sugar.
Especially because my mom seems to brew it strong enough to have legs of its own. The first time she made coffee and I had some, I’d choked and sputtered on it for more than a minute before she slapped me on the back and told me to grow up.
My mom looks happier than I’ve seen her in a while, and she actually has clothes on. Well, not that I’d count a mini-skirt and a tank top on a woman her age as real clothing, but she’s not wearing lingerie.
I’ll count that as a win. She also has on a full face of makeup and a huge necklace that Ted said came from his mother before she died. It’s got both pearls and sapphires on it and hangs down heavy on her neck, resting right between her cleavage. The first time I saw it, I swore that it was costume jewelry, and my mom had slapped me.
I wasn’t ever supposed to be rude to Ted.
The coffee is strong as I knew it would be and I take another sip, feeling the caffeine run through my veins. Fortifying me. Helping me prepare for the shit day ahead of me.
Ted is leaning on the counter. “Don’t you see that your mom made you breakfast, Elle? I don’t think that you have any reason to be rude to her.” He’s got on cowboy boots, which is ridiculous, since he works in sales, and has combed his hair to the side to hide his bald spot.
Every time I look at him, he makes eye contact with me and grins. I hate the way he licks his bottom lip, the tip of his pink tongue snaking out and grazing over his skin. I swear, I have no idea what my mom sees in him, but for some reason, she believes that he’s what she needed.
He got her out of Florida and into this dump, so it’s not what I’d call a win.
“She toasted a slice of dry bread, Ted. I hardly think that that counts as cooking. Or parenting.” I take a huge sip of my coffee and stare at him over the rim, daring him to respond.
He opens his mouth to say something, but I push past him
and walk outside. As soon as I do, I know that I’ve made a mistake.
Fuck, it’s cold. Florida was never this cold, but Massachusetts is my own personal hell, so of course it’s going to be sweater weather.
I don’t own a sweater. Since we moved so quickly and I didn’t really have a chance to go shopping before our trip, I didn’t bring acceptable clothing with us. I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb at Kennedy Academy.
Yeah, like I wasn’t going to already. Like my mousy hair, the fact that my clothes hang off of my body, and the fact that I live on the shit side of town aren’t putting me apart from the rest of my peers, I have to contend with wearing a damn tank top in the freezing weather.
At least it’s not snowing, right?
The bus appears at the end of the street and I watch with apprehension as it comes closer. No senior should have to ride the bus in high school, but here I am, a new kid, about to get onto the stinky bus with other kids who don’t have cars.
Ted offered to drive me to school, but I don’t want to spend any more time with him than I have to. He gives me the creeps after he crawled into my bed our first night here. Now all I want to do is escape. Escape my house, escape this town, escape Kennedy Academy.
Escape my life.
I used to have a car and that’s all I can think about as I board the bus and look around. If my mom hadn’t sold it before we moved well…
I’d still be here in Blacksburg, but I wouldn’t be getting on this damn bus, that’s for sure.
Everyone grows quiet as I stand at the front and look down the aisle. This is something that they don’t teach you in class – where you sit matters. What you wear? It matters. How you breathe?
Everything.
They also don’t tell you how much a bus smells. Hormones and sweat. It’s disgusting and I can’t help but wrinkle my nose when I catch my first whiff.
I choose a seat towards the back and scrunch up against the window. I know that I don’t look like a senior. Everyone here probably thinks that I’m a stupid freshman, and that’s okay with me. I just want to make it through the rest of this year alive.
