Bully (Angel & Demons Trilogy Book 1)

by Ashley Love

  "You think they'll be nice?"

  I shrug. "Small towns usually have their fair share of nice people in them. I don't see why the kids would be any different."

  She doesn't say anything to that, just bites her lip and rocks herself with her toes on the ground. I look down at her expression and then sigh, standing and stepping in front of her, crouching down. "Hey, come on," I say, holding her chin. "None of that, okay? They were stupid rumors back at your old school. Things will be different here."

  The inner city schools hadn't been kind to either of us. Sophia had been caught up in a rumor about stealing lunch boxes and hiding them behind the toilets at school. One would think city kids have better things to do than bully a sweet little girl. I feel bad for her. Sure, I'm the new kid all the time, but Sophia is too, and it's probably harder for someone so young.

  She chews her lip and sighs. "I'm staying away from lunch boxes for the rest of my life."

  I laugh at that. "Look, those were just a bunch of bullies at your old school spreading rumors about you. It was just a bad situation that you accidentally got caught up in. And it made you stronger, right?"

  She cocks her head to the side. "Did it make you stronger?"

  My eyebrows press together. "What, your lunch box fiasco?"

  "No," she grumbles. "I mean, what happened to you."

  I press my lips together, dropping my hand from her chin and looking down for a moment. "You always worry about what happened to me," I sigh. "That doesn't matter anymore. Just like the lunch box incident doesn't matter anymore either. This is a fresh start."

  She slumps a little, and I'm not sure whether it's out of defeat or relief. "I guess we've both had our fair share of bullies, huh?"

  I snort again and stand. "None of that matters now," I assure her, my fingers absently coming up and running across the raised bump of the scar on my lower abdomen, a hard ridge through my t-shirt. "I say we just hang out here, go to school tomorrow, and say fuck the world. How's that sound?"

  "You said 'fuck'," she teases. "Hypocrite."

  I roll my eyes. "I'm older than you. I can say whatever I want."

  "Yeah whatever, hypocrite," she snorts, scuffing her toe against the dirt ground.

  I huff a small laugh, glancing around. I spot the restrooms in a tiny building the size of a shed near the edge of the forest across the street. It seems everywhere we go in town, the forest is always there.

  "Stay here, I'm going to the bathroom," I tell her. "Will you be okay?"

  "Sure," she replies. "Being a hypocrite must make it hard to control your bladder."

  I glare at her halfheartedly. "You realize that makes no sense, right?"

  She says nothing, just gives me a wry grin, and I restrain the urge to flick her in the arm. Little sisters.

  I head across the street to the restrooms. The closer I get, the more dilapidated the small building looks, but it's the only public bathroom around here, so I pray that it's still useable.

  It's ten times warmer inside than outside, and smells like dust and fake lemon air freshener. At least they keep it semi-clean. I'm surprised to find graffiti and beer cans and old joint papers inside. It's the first sign of any teenage normalcy I've seen since arriving in town. I was beginning to think this place was filled with a bunch of straight-edge obedient kids, but maybe there's troublemakers everywhere.

  I only take a couple minutes in the restroom, washing my hands in the ice cold water from the tap and drying them on my worn jeans when I can't find any paper towels. When I return to the park, I'm surprised to find that Sophia is no longer alone. I straighten when I spot a boy with her.

  He's taller than Sophia, and lanky, awkward in a prepubescent way, with floppy wet-sand-colored hair that's cut uneven and swings when he moves. My first instinct is to walk over and intervene, protective-older-sister mode kicking in. But then Sophia throws her head back and laughs at something the boy says, and I can see dimples appear in his cheeks.

  I force myself to stop walking, and I watch them for a moment. The boy is talking animatedly, waving his hands in the air, and Sophia is grinning ear to ear. Maybe this is what she needs, to make a friend before her first day of sixth grade tomorrow. The boy is tall, but has a baby face that suggests he and Sophia are around the same age. Maybe they go to the same school.

  All at once, relief washes through me. Maybe Windsor Falls will be better for Sophia. Maybe she'll make friends easily. I don't expect to make many friends myself—I never do. But at least I won't have to worry about whether my little sister's happy or not.

  The boy with the dog-like hair and the white, white smile leads Sophia over to the lone slide, helping her up the ladder and then watching as she slides down the smooth silver metal. It's the kind of slide that no one dares go near in the summer, because the metal grows boiling hot in the sun. I lower myself to the grass, sitting cross-legged there and watching the boy and Sophia take turns going down the slide. Sophia laughs when the boy slides too far and ends up on his back in the dirt. She helps him up and brushes the dust off his shirt.

  I have no idea how long I sit there, watching them talk and play, but I feel peaceful. The breeze is gentle and slides through my hair like ghostly fingers, and rattles the browning leaves on the trees in the forest, clinking them together like chandelier crystals. For a moment, I can forget about the fact that tomorrow is my first day of school. I can forget about the fact that our house is full of unpacked boxes. I can forget about the fact that my parents aren't here, and won't be here for months. I can forget about the fact that we're the new kids in town, again. Because unlike in the city, the sun is warm, the breeze is crisp, and the air is clean here.

  And that's when I smell the cigarette smoke. I don't realize my eyes have slipped closed until the smell of the smoke interrupts my tranquil thoughts. I open my eyes and it takes all of half a second to spot the newcomer on the other side of the playground.

  My breath catches in my throat.

  I consider myself a rational teenager. I know that there's no such thing as love at first sight, or angels, or sirens of any sort. But all that rationality seems to drain from my mind when I see the boy standing across the park.

  The first thing I notice is his dark leather jacket, out of place in the gentle September atmosphere. He's wearing washed-out dark jeans, a t-shirt, and the leather jacket, a cigarette pinched between his thumb and forefinger. But that's not what strikes me. What strikes me is that not only is this boy gorgeous—classically so, like a marble statue, with tousled brown spikes of hair, a chiseled sharp jaw, and eyes so green they look like beacons even from this distance—but he's staring straight at me.

  His stare is unwavering, and I'm caught so off-guard that I can do nothing but stare back. We stare at each other for what feels like hours, long enough for my heart to declare war on my ribcage. Long enough for me to convince myself that, hey, maybe angels do exist. And this boy was made just to turn my rationality into mush.

  All thoughts leave my brain until there's nothing left but green. Those eyes are vibrant, energetic, alive, like spring grass at the crack of dawn, just as the golden sun hits the dew. Like melted emeralds. Like moss. And the boy's hair is perfectly imperfect, messy and sticking up every which way like he's been running his fingers through it, shards of shiny strands like copper on fire. The hard cut of his jaw becomes sharper as his pale lips wrap around his cigarette and pucker white when he takes a long smooth drag, never breaking his stare with me.

  I swallow hard, gulping embarrassingly, and I almost miss the way the guy smirks a little as I force myself to tear my gaze away, scanning the playground distractedly for Sophia. She's still with the floppy haired boy, but they're at the merry-go-round now, hanging on opposite sides, pushing at the ground with their heels to get the screeching rusted thing turning. It groans under the strain.

  Shit. I did not want this to happen. I've been very good my whole life at talking myself out of having fee
lings for anyone. It's just easier that way. We're always leaving town, moving after a year or two. No time or chance to form real connections with people. No need to put my heart on the line. But how can I very well be expected to concentrate on being invisible when there's a guy who looks like that walking around? It's just not fair.

  I sit there pouting in the grass, and stare down at my hands, picking at my fingernails, making it a point not to look at the guy again. For several long minutes I sit there, pretending not to feel the hairs on the nape of my neck sticking straight up because I just know the guy is still staring at me. I can feel those green eyes on me.

  An immeasurable number of minutes later, two pairs of small feet suddenly appear in my line of vision and I raise my eyes, finding Sophia and the little boy standing in front of me, grinning and breathing heavily in exertion. I'm thankful and mournful all at once that they're blocking my view of the gorgeous boy across the park.

  "Ariel, this is Liam," Sophia introduces with a toothy grin, nodding towards the floppy-haired boy. I blink at him a couple times, shaking myself out of my musings, and then I clear my throat awkwardly. Very eloquent.

  I stick out my hand. "It's very nice to meet you, Liam."

  The boy—Liam—smiles, and those dimples appear again as he accepts my handshake. "Sophia told me you guys just moved here. Did you move into that old house on Coolidge?"

  I push myself to my feet. "Yeah, just last night."

  Liam bobs his head a couple times in understanding, glancing at Sophia and smiling. I can't help myself. I briefly glance over their heads at the mystery boy across the park. He's still staring over here, but he's straightened up from where he was leaning against a tree, and is now watching more intently, chewing lightly on his cigarette.

  "Are you going to the high school?" Liam asks me, successfully drawing my attention away from the boy, for which I'm thankful.

  I nod. "Start tomorrow."

  "Cool," Liam smiles. "My brother Zane is a senior there." He gestures behind himself at the mystery boy.

  Great, I think. Now I really can't avoid him.

  I use the small introduction as an excuse to look up at Zane again where he hasn't moved from the other side of the playground. He glances down briefly to flick his cigarette away and scuff it out with the sole of his black work boot. It's the first time I notice the faint crescent-moon bruise circling the outer corner of his right eye. I wouldn't have noticed it had I not been so tuned in to everything involving the guy at the moment.

  I lick my lips and look back down at Liam and Sophia. Liam is almost my height, but up close it's even easier to tell that he's still young. His elbows are knobby with youth.

  "Do you go to the middle school?" I ask him, trying so hard not to watch the gorgeous guy—Zane—in my peripheral vision.

  Liam nods with another smile. Damn, this kid smiles a lot. "Well, it's a K-8 school, but yeah, I'm in seventh grade. So I guess I'll be seeing Sophia there tomorrow." He grins down at Sophia and nudges her shoulder. She blushes and smiles at the ground.

  "Yes, you will," I agree, another wave of relief cascading through me. God, I'm happy Sophia's made a friend so quickly. She pulls in a breath to say something else, but she's interrupted by a voice across the park.

  "Liam! Come on, we're gonna be late to Susan's!"

  I knows it's Zane's voice even before Liam turns to acknowledge his older brother's request. I barely hear Liam whine, "Can't we stay five more minutes?" because I'm too busy reeling over the husky deep voice that just came out of Zane. It's like melted chocolate and wood burning and it sends signals straight to my heart. Damn it.

  It's just not fair.

  "'Fraid not, dude. We'll come back some other time," Zane replies from across the way, turning and bending down to pick up what looks like a book from under the tree he was just leaning against. I get a nice view of his jean-clad ass as he does, and I have to quickly look away before I do something stupid like lust after it.

  Jesus Christ, this is horrible. I'm not usually this easy to level, and the guy isn't even doing anything. I must be tired.

  Liam grumbles in disappointment, and then turns back to us. "Catch you guys later," he says.

  I watch as Liam gives Sophia a high five, making me smile again, and then he turns and runs over to his brother, taking the book from Zane's large hands and hugging it against his chest. Zane leads him away with an arm slung around his bony shoulders, ruffling his shaggy hair with one hand.

  I watch after them, and almost flinch when Zane glances back over his shoulder at me. When he sees that I'm still staring at him, his soft lips curl up in a small smile, and God if that isn't the most endearing smile I have ever seen. I don't even get a chance to snap out of it and smile back before the two of them disappear around the corner down the next block.

  I stare at the spot where they disappeared until Sophia pops into my line of vision. "I think I'm in looove," she muses with a dramatic sigh.

  I roll my eyes. "You're eleven, you don't even know what that means."

  "Oh really?" she teases. "Because I'd call that look in your eyes love, if I didn't know any better."

  I finally look at her with a little glare that's mostly teasing. "You don't know any better. And I have no idea what you're talking about," I snort with finality, grabbing her arms and pulling her along with me.

  "So...Zane," Sophia begins as we head back to my bike.

  I bite my lip, glancing in the direction where the two boys had vanished, as if I'm hoping that they'll suddenly reappear.

  "What about him?" I reply, lifting Sophia up and setting her on the handlebars again, mounting my bike carefully and pushing off the tree to head home.

  "You guys were totally having eye sex," she comments, and I sputter.

  "We were not! He barely looked at me twice!"

  She snickers. "He was handsome."

  "Whatever," I grumble, not even bothering to deny it, because the guy was handsome, painfully so. So much that I can't even really focus on the road in front of me, because all I see is green.

  We make it back to our new house quickly, mid-afternoon. In the small yard next to ours, a heavyset black woman is out tending her garden, despite the fact that it's September and the flowers will be wilting soon. A small pale boy is out with her, no older than seven or eight, and obviously of no relation to the woman.

  Me and Sophia look on curiously as I slow my bike and wheel it to the side of the house, out of view of the street, in the hopes that it won't be stolen. We're not in the city anymore though; maybe bikes don't get stolen as much.

  "Ethan!" a bird-like voice calls out from behind me, just as I hear small pattering footsteps coming up while I lift Sophia from the handlebars once more. I turn to see the little boy from next door standing a few feet behind us, a cautious but excited gleam in his eyes.

  "You're new here, aren't you?" he asks, in a high voice, wide innocent eyes flicking between me and Sophia with unfiltered curiosity.

  I smile a little as I see the older woman pushing herself up and making her way over to us. "We just moved in last night," I explain to the little boy—Ethan.

  It seems I'll be explaining this more than once in the next few weeks. Yes, we're new here, and yes, it's a small town. We're the strangers, the outsiders. But we're also painfully used to that. Painfully used to change.

  Ethan holds out his hand. "Nice to meet you!" he grins, and there's a sort of wolfish look to him, mischievous.

  I politely extend my own arm and shake his hand, only to pull away with a small yelp as a sharp buzzing zaps through my palm. Ethan bursts out laughing, a high-pitched gleeful noise, opening his hand to reveal a small silver buzzer, the kind bought at magic shops and toy stores. I shake my hand a little, willing away the tickling feeling of the buzzer, and then let out a chuckle. "Very clever."

  Ethan shrugs through his laughter just as the older woman from the neighboring house catches up. "I'm sorry abou
t him," she says, shaking her head and scolding him with a little flick to the shoulder, pushing him back towards their yard once before turning back to me. "He gets a little carried away with all those pranks sometimes."

  I nod in understanding. "It's alright, I don't mind. I used to love magic too."

  The woman rolls her eyes and holds out a hand. I extend my arm for what feels like the hundredth time today, shaking her warm, and surprisingly motherly, hand.

  "I'm Bonnie," she introduces herself, and I briefly wonder how the hell I'm going to remember the names of all the people I've met today. Everyone here seems so outgoing, and it's just another thing I find different between myself and the rest of the world. I guess I truly am an outcast.

  "Ariel Riley," I reply. "And this is my sister, Sophia."

  Bonnie gives me a warm smile. "I haven't seen your parents around yet, sugar. Where are they?" she asks, looking at me with unwavering eyes. She has the kind of eyes that see right through you, and I swallow down my immediate unease.

  "Working," I respond shortly. "It's just us two for now."

  Bonnie hums a bit, eyeing us both with pursed lips as if that disappoints her for some reason. "Well if you need anything, we're right next door," she says. "It was very nice to meet you."

  I give a slightly strained smile and nod, scooping Sophia up in a piggyback hold and carrying her to the front door. I can feel Bonnie's eyes on me the whole way in, and it makes me uncomfortable, despite her kindness. Then again, nearly everything makes me feel uncomfortable.

  "Don't tell me you thought that Ethan kid was cute too," I tease Sophia once we're inside and the door is shut and locked.

  Sophia slaps my arm. "He's way too young."

  I slap her arm back and pick her up, swinging her around until she's dangling upside down by her legs.

  She screams and laughs and batters her little fists against me until I relent and set her down carefully, nudging her with my foot as I walk past into the living room. The house is tiny; an old blue Victorian style place. The first floor consists of a small kitchen, living room, bathroom, and a tiny spare room that I figure will soon be a bedroom. The second floor is just two bedrooms and one bathroom. It's dark and cramped inside, but it's home now, and therefore comforting in a way.