Cruel Academy: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Princes of Ravenlake Academy Book 2)

by Nicole Fox

  “Agreeable or not, we’ll take care of your poor ass, Caleb. Just don’t lie to us anymore.”

  It feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest.

  Like I can breathe for the first time in days.

  Though in the back of my head, even as Noah shrugs out of our manly embrace and J.C. teases him for letting his emotions show for a minute, I can’t help but think that Haley was right all along.

  My friends aren’t mad at me. They didn’t abandon me. They didn’t turn on me.

  She told them the truth and everything isn’t ruined.

  In fact, it might even be better.

  42

  Haley

  Even though I called Caleb a coward, on Monday morning, I’m the coward.

  I can’t find it in me to get out of bed and go to school.

  I can’t find it in me to walk past Caleb, knowing he hates me.

  Knowing we’ll never talk or kiss or touch again.

  We weren’t even dating, and I know that. I know our friendship was built on secrets and lies and blackmail, but I’m still going to miss it.

  I’ll miss J.C. and Noah, too.

  I’d come to think of them as my pack. Even though I swore to myself I wouldn’t get attached, now I can’t imagine what life at Ravenlake Prep will look like without seeing them between classes.

  So, I don’t want to have to think first thing on a Monday. Reworking your social circle and making new friends is not the kind of work any human is ready for on a Monday morning. It will wait until Tuesday.

  Thus, I fake being sick.

  It works for a little while. Unfortunately, my mom isn’t content to let me live in denial for twenty-four hours.

  Late Monday afternoon, she knocks on my door and then slips into my room, closing the door behind her.

  “Is everything okay in here?”

  I hum my assent and try to focus on the reality TV show playing on my laptop. It’s a show about attractive young adults who are randomly assigned to work on the yachts of the rich. It’s absurd and distracting and surprisingly addicting.

  “Can you turn off the show for a minute?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “David and Rebecca are about to serve the owners of the yacht steak without any steak knives, and Mary-Beth and Georgia are supposed to be making beds while everyone is eating, but they’re making out in the linen closet. It’s kind of a bad time to stop the—”

  Mom closes my laptop screen with a definitive click and sits on the edge of my bed, ignoring my groans of protest.

  “What’s up with you, kid? You’ve been acting strange for a while, but now you seem really sad, and I just want to help.”

  I cross my arms and lower my chin to my chest, pouting.

  “Is it about moving schools?” she prods. “Is someone being mean to you? Is that why you had that bruise on your face? Did you get in a fight at school?”

  I’ve never been able to remain stoic during my mom’s fact-finding missions. As a kid, I’d swear on my life I wouldn’t tell her about the nail polish I spilled on the bathroom rug, but the minute she asked me about it and gave me a lowering of her brows, I’d crack like an egg.

  I can do a lot of things, but I can’t lie to my mom.

  Still, I try.

  “I didn’t get in a fight at school.”

  Technically true.

  “You hit a branch on a run, then?” My silence is deafening, and my mom sighs. “Come on, Haley. Moving here and getting away from your old school was supposed to be a new start, but you’re being secretive and moody, and your dad and I are worried about you.”

  “Dad is, too?”

  As far as my personal life goes, my dad likes to stay out of it. Once I turned thirteen, he decided I was well beyond his limited scope of expertise and defaulted on all matters to my mother.

  She nods. “We both are. All we want is for you to be happy and safe—it’s all we’ve ever wanted for you—but we can’t help you if you shut us out.”

  All at once, it hits me that I’m doing exactly what I accused Caleb of doing with his friends. I’ve been keeping my parents at arm’s length, lying to them and keeping secrets from them because I was afraid they’d be disappointed in me. I didn’t even give them the chance to help me. I pushed them away before they could do the same to me.

  I’m a coward.

  I don’t realize I’m crying until my mom leans in and wraps her arm around my shoulders. She smells like cinnamon, and I press my snotty face into her sleeve.

  “I’ve messed everything up.”

  She strokes a hand down my hair. “I’m sure that isn’t true.”

  I wipe my nose on my sleeve and sit up. “I’ve been lying to you because I didn’t want to disappoint you, but I can’t lie anymore.”

  “What is it?” she whispers, grabbing my hand. “Tell me.”

  And I do.

  I start at the beginning, telling her about John and the Hell Princes. I can see the disbelief and fear swirling in her eyes as I tell her about the drugs and the underground fights, but she stays quiet and listens.

  “He was mean to me,” I say. “Well, abusive. He was abusive. When we moved, I thought it would be my chance to start over, so I ended things with him.”

  “Good, good,” she says, nodding. “So, you’re still broken up? You aren’t with him?”

  I shake my head. “No, I’m not, but …”

  My mom’s dark brows knit together, and she urges me on, squeezing my fingers.

  “When we broke up, I went into his apartment, trashed the place, and took a bunch of his drugs.”

  Her eyes widen, and she glances around my room as though she is suddenly going to see a pile of heroin syringes lying on my dresser she didn’t notice before.

  “I didn’t take them. I stole them and flushed them,” I clarify. “I cost him a lot of money, and John has come to collect.”

  She sighs audibly. “He contacted you?”

  I tell her about the note on my car and the attack on my run the week before. Despite my outpouring of honesty, I keep the camping trip a secret. There’s no reason for her to know quite how deeply my dishonesty runs.

  My mom runs a hand over my cheek, where the bruise used to be. It is faded now. “How did you get away?”

  “Caleb.” Saying his name feels both familiar and strange, like looking down to realize you have a strange tattoo on your arm—both yours and not yours at the same time. “He has been taking care of Finn’s house next door. I know him from the underground fights, and he is an amazing fighter. He taught me to defend myself. He trained me and it saved my life.”

  I know how my mom feels about the Golden Boys—she warned me against them the first day I ever snuck out to train with Caleb—but she doesn’t get angry.

  Instead, she takes a deep breath, runs a hand through her hair that is just as curly as mine, and then claps her hands on her knees and stands up.

  “Okay.”

  I bite my lip. “Okay?”

  “Okay,” she repeats. “It seems the first thing we need to do is take care of your debt to John or Bumper or whatever his ridiculous name is.”

  I chuckle in surprise. “You sound like Caleb. He hates Bumper.”

  “If he likes you and hates Bumper, then Caleb has good taste,” she says.

  I don’t know if Caleb likes me anymore—my guess would be that he doesn’t—but I don’t really want to think about it right now.

  “How much do you owe him?”

  “I don’t want you to have to take care of my mess for me,” I say, pressing my hands between my thighs nervously. “I’ll get a job and save up allowance and—”

  “I’m not going to let this punk torment you until you have the money,” Mom says, interrupting me, eyebrow arched. “Consider this a loan. You’ll be paying me back … with interest.”

  I smile, relieved that my mom still sounds like my mom. Even after everything I just told her, she is still sassy and stern.

  She stil
l loves me.

  The relief flows through my chest and down my arms, blanketing me in warmth. I never realized how heavy my lies had become, but now that I’ve dropped them, I feel one hundred pounds lighter.

  I feel free.

  Tears burn at the backs of my eyes, and I try to blink them away, but they force themselves out and down my cheeks. My mom kneels in front of me and grips my face in her palms, wiping my tears away with her thumbs.

  “Everything is going to be okay, Haley. We’re going to fix this, okay? It will all be okay.”

  I cry even harder. Because I believe her. For the first time in months, I really truly believe that things will be okay.

  43

  Haley

  After months of dodging my texts and calls and only messaging me when she was spying for John, Estefania responds within a minute.

  What money?

  The money I owe John, I say. I assume if I give it to you, you’ll get it to him.

  She is one of his lackeys now. As much as I wish it wasn’t true, Estefania has been roped into the Hell Prince drama, so when I wanted to get in touch with them about paying my debts, I texted her. Even after the betrayals, I’d rather talk to her than Levi or John.

  When? Where?

  Now. The park.

  Going back to the park where I was attacked should be scary, but in a way, setting the meeting there feels like reclaiming the story for myself.

  The last time Estefania and I were supposed to meet there, I was attacked by two Hell Princes and narrowly escaped without being kidnapped or seriously injured.

  Now, we are going to finally finish the meeting that never happened and I’ll be able to put two traumatic parts of my past firmly and forever in the past: my relationship with John and Estefania’s betrayal.

  I want to do this.

  I need to.

  My parents know the truth now. But when I leave the house Saturday night, I don’t tell them I’m going to meet with Estefania. My mom made me promise that I wouldn’t meet up with anyone to make the exchange alone.

  I’m breaking that promise now.

  The most important reason is that getting my parents involved is dangerous. The less they know, the better.

  If I want this payment to John to be my last contact with the Hell Princes, then I need to handle this alone.

  Plus, I want to talk to Estefania. I don’t have any delusions about the two of us becoming friends again, but I want to force her to look into my eyes and reckon with what she did to me.

  I want her to feel guilt and remorse, but I also want to warn her to be careful.

  Even if we are no longer friends, I want her to know there is hope on the other side. If she does ever manage to get out, she can be okay.

  All of these thoughts and hopes and expectations and nerves are roiling around in my stomach when I pull up to the park.

  Fall in South Texas is only a half-step down from summer in terms of temperature, but the aesthetics are a world apart. The blinding white sun shifts to a soft yellow and everything looks picturesque, bathed in a warm glow.

  Cicadas hum and frogs from the narrow creek hidden away in the trees croak loudly enough that they almost drown out the sound of cars driving down Main Street.

  I pull into a parking space along the road but stay in the car. I don’t plan to wander into any hidden areas or meadows this time. I reached out to Estefania again, but I won’t let her fool me.

  I’m going to stay in full sight of Main Street the entire time.

  A car pulls into a space a few down from mine, but the angle of the spot keeps me from seeing the driver’s face.

  Only when she gets out do I see Estefania’s recognizable high pony.

  She glances in my direction and then walks slowly to the back of her car, leaning against the bumper, making it clear she doesn’t plan to go any further. I get out and lean against my door.

  Seeing her feels like a dream. It’s something I’ve thought about for months, usually with cotton-candy visions of us hugging and apologizing to one another and forgiving each other for all of the misunderstandings and drama.

  But that was before.

  Now, I can’t even think of a single word to say.

  “Hey.” Estefania flips her long ponytail over her shoulder with a wave of her hand and crosses her arms again.

  She is tense, but doing her best to look casual, and I should be doing the same. I have no reason to be awkward.

  I didn’t betray my ex-best friend.

  I didn’t lure her to a park to be attacked by two men.

  I didn’t tell her abusive ex-boyfriend where she was at so he could swing by for a surprise visit and threaten her.

  As the charges against Estefania accumulate in my mind, I finally let myself feel the anger I’ve been pushing down.

  It wasn’t even a conscious pushing away of anger. I did it to survive. Because I couldn’t focus on staying safe and also remember all the betrayal and heartbreak and anguish.

  But now, with nothing else to think about, it all comes rushing back in a wave so large I worry I’ll fall over.

  I lower my arms and press my palms on the side of my car, holding myself in place, trying to ground myself.

  “Hi.” The word squeezes out between clenched teeth. “I’m surprised to see you. I half expected a hit man to show up and take me out.”

  Her eyebrows lift in surprise at my anger, but then the cold mask is back in place. “You said you had the money?”

  Part of me wants to hand it to her and be done with it. To throw her the cash, walk away, and never see her again.

  But another part of me needs more closure than that.

  “Why did you do it?” I take a step forward into the empty space between us. “You were my best friend.”

  “Exactly. Past tense.” She shrugs. “You left, and I had to make new friends.”

  “I moved across town, ‘Stef. Stop acting like I chartered a rocket to a new planet.”

  She stands tall, rocking slightly on her high heels, and turns to me. “You did! A planet where you date a Golden Boy. And live in a mansion.”

  “So you thought my dad getting a new job means I should be attacked by bikers? Awesome. Glad to know where we stand.”

  “No, you stealing from my boyfriend meant you should be attacked by bikers,” Estefania spits back.

  It takes me a second to understand her meaning. “You’re dating John?”

  I knew Estefania was helping him, but I assumed she was being manipulated or threatened. Her actions still made me angry, but I thought there still had to be some kind of explanation. Something that would cause her to turn her back on me.

  Love for my abusive ex-boyfriend never once crossed my mind.

  “John and I have become … close,” she said. “You left us both, so I guess I can thank you for the fact that we bonded.”

  I blink at her, unable to formulate words. My stomach twists and flips. I feel like I might be sick.

  “Do you have the money or what?” she asks, crossing her arms.

  I’m done.

  Absolutely, entirely done.

  I don’t want closure or explanations or apologies—as if I’d get an apology anyway. I don’t want anything from Estefania except for her to get out of my sight. I reach into my back pocket and pull out the envelope.

  “Take it and get the fuck out of my face.”

  Estefania doesn’t move. She just holds out her hand, and I don’t have the energy to be as petty as she is. The sooner I get the envelope in her hand, the sooner I can get out of here and put this all behind me.

  I swallow my annoyance, cross the space between us, and slap the envelope into her hand. The second her fingers close around it, her face changes. Regret wrinkles her forehead, and she takes a few stumbling steps away from me.

  Then, the back door of her car opens and a man lunges at me from the floor of the back seat. He’d been hiding there throughout the entirety of our conversation.

&nb
sp; I’m too stunned to react at first.

  By the time I think to turn and run, it’s too late.

  The man’s arms are around me and a second car is pulling up along the curb.

  I flail my legs, trying to hit the man strategically between his own legs since my arms are pinned to my sides, but I can’t manage it.

  Drills and defensive choreography flash in my mind like a flip-book, but one piece of advice sticks out more clearly than the rest. It was a flippant remark Caleb made one day, but it stuck.

  If all else fails, scream.

  So I do.

  I throw my head back, managing to hit my attacker in the nose, and scream like my life depends on it—since it very well might.

  I get out one loud yell before the man holding me puts me on the ground and slaps a hand over my mouth. The doors of the idling car in front of us burst open and more men are moving towards me.

  This time, I recognize them.

  Levi and the man he brought with him the last time he tried to attack me.

  And John.

  “Good work, Estefania,” John says, winking at her over my head.

  Then he turns to me. His golden hair is glowing in the sunset, but even the sun’s rays can’t penetrate his dark black eyes.

  They look even emptier than usual.

  “What do you want?” I mumble against the hand over my mouth. I’m not sure if John can understand me, but it probably doesn’t take much deduction to figure it out.

  “Consider this my callout.” He smiles. “If your boyfriend wants to fight, then we’ll fight. On my terms.”

  44

  Caleb

  When I pull into the driveway and see my dad’s car, I want to turn around and leave.

  J.C. and Noah don’t hate me and, in fact, have been cracking jokes all week about the underground fights and my money issues, so that is one bullet dodged. I’m not sure I’m lucky enough to dodge more than one.

  I certainly didn’t dodge Haley’s bullet. That one hit me straight in the chest and has been lodged there all week. I don’t want to worsen it.