Bully (Angel & Demons Trilogy Book 1)

by Ashley Love

  "Jesus, kiddo, you look like a lovestruck puppy!" Mason laughs, snapping his fingers to get my attention.

  I blink and tear my eyes away from Zane. "What?"

  "You have to stop looking at Zane Peterson like he's a sandwich," Charlie says with a sympathetic smile, patting my arm. "Trust us when we say he's not a good guy to get mixed up with."

  I start to deny it, but then I realize they're right. I sigh, dropping my chin to my hand, daring one last glance out the window.

  "There are lots of cute guys in theatre," Charlie offers encouragingly.

  "I'll sign up tonight," I say, giving her a half-hearted smile. "I'll find someone to sign the parental consent portion."

  "Yay!" Charlie cheers, clapping her hands, at the same time as Mason whoops, "Hells yeah!"

  I smile at their enthusiasm, and as we make idle chatter for the rest of the lunch period, I force myself to not once look out that window and watch Zane with his friends.

  Even when I swear—with my crazy, overstressed mind—that I can feel him staring right at me.

  4

  When Zane gets home that night, it's to a quiet and dark house. Mike must be out at the bars late again. Zane wonders how long he'll be gone this time. A few hours, a few days?

  He's stopped caring really.

  The front door is unlocked, and creaks on its old hinges as he opens it. He leaves it unlocked so Mike doesn't get pissed off and break it down in a drunken rage later when he return—if he returns. It's happened before. Zane's learned how to adapt. And how to fix doors.

  "Liam?" he calls out as he drops his backpack in the tiny front hall, then thinks better of it and scoops it back up again, carrying it to his bedroom where it'll be safer.

  "In my room!" Liam calls from the back of the house.

  Zane makes his way back there and pushes Liam's door open, slipping inside. "Dad home?" He already knows the answer to that, but he has to hold onto hope.

  Liam just gives him a pointed look, as if to say, what do you think?

  "Right," Zane mumbles, flopping back on Liam's bed and tucking one arm behind his head, staring up at the chipped ceiling. The light in Liam's room has been broken for a couple years now, so he uses candles and a lamp without a shade to light the place. At night, he has those glow-in-the-dark stars and moons stuck to his ceiling that give him a sense of peace. Sweat is already beading on Zane's brow. The candles make the room about twenty degrees hotter than the rest of the house.

  "Where were you?" Liam asks distractedly, scribbling something in what looks like a math workbook. Good kid, always doing his homework.

  "Went to hang out with Noah at Ghost Town," Zane replies, glancing at the digital clock on Liam's nightstand guiltily. He should have been home hours ago. It's already dark outside and his little brother's been alone all this time.

  "You guys shouldn't be hanging around out there at night," Liam scolds.

  "Why? Because it's haunted?" Zane teases, tossing a ball of lint at Liam's fluffy head that he found on the fraying comforter. It sticks to Liam's hair. He doesn't notice.

  "No jerk, because there are wild animals that get into those old train cars," Liam says matter-of-factly. "It's stupid to go out there."

  Zane chuckles, picking the lint out of Liam's hair before he notices it's there. "I appreciate the concern, bro. Gets me all tingly when you care like that."

  Liam scoffs. "Shut up."

  Zane grins, rolling onto his side, picking at the lint with his blunt fingernails. His clothing reeks of cigarettes so badly he can smell himself. He wonders how Liam doesn't mind it.

  On the outskirts of Windsor Falls, no more than a mile or two from the high school, there's a group of old abandoned train cars where hooligans like Zane go when they want to get away from adults and authority. The cops don't even go out there more than once a month or so. No one does, as far as Zane can tell, except for him and his friends. As such, the area has been nicknamed Ghost Town, and it's one of Zane's friends' favorite places to go.

  Liam finishes scribbling the last couple notes into his workbook and then flips it shut, sighing heavily and tossing it aside on the floor.

  "All done?" Zane asks, unable to stop the swell of pride in his chest. Liam is only in seventh grade, but he can tell the kid is going places.

  "Done," Liam sighs in relief, pushing himself to his feet, knees popping as he does. He crawls over Zane and collapses on the empty side of the bed closest to the wall. Zane rolls over so he's on his side facing him, and throws the lint ball at him again. It hits him in the face this time and Liam snorts and brushes it away, sticking his tongue out at him. Zane just laughs.

  "So I saw that girl Sophia at school today," Liam says.

  Zane stiffens a little. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah," he says. "I didn't really get a chance to talk to her since she's in sixth grade. They keep all the grades separated so I only spotted her in the hallway a couple times between classes."

  Zane clears his throat, swallowing back the taste of cigarettes on his tongue. "Hm," is all he says.

  Liam looks over at him. "Did you see her sister at school today? Ariel?" he asks, eyeing him. "She seemed nice."

  Zane keeps his eyes down, fiddling with the comforter, wishing he had that lint ball still to keep his hands busy. "Yeah, I saw her," he mutters. "Didn't get a chance to say hi though."

  He feels bad lying to Liam, but what is he supposed to say? He doesn't want Liam to know that he's a dick and a bully and that his friends have inadvertently chosen Ariel as their new target of choice. Sure, maybe he has some say in the matter, but he'd rather not fight with his friends.

  Ariel is a loser. A beautiful loser, but still a loser. And Zane and his friends don't associate themselves with losers. No—they beat them down, show them their place. They're the lowest of the low on the food chain. And if Zane wants to retain his rank, keep his bad reputation from getting any worse, he'll remember that fact every time he sees Ariel and wants to ogle at her big blue eyes instead of slapping her books out of her hands.

  "Zane, you okay, man?" Liam asks, eyeing him.

  Zane blinks and looks at his brother. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, dude," he says, brushing off Liam's worried look. He pushes himself up from the bed. "You want some dinner? I'm assuming you haven't eaten yet."

  Liam sits up and scratches the back of his head, mussing up his shaggy hair like a dog shaking its ears. "Yeah sure, I think there's some leftover Hamburger Helper."

  "What a treat," Zane drawls sarcastically, his stomach already hating him for what he's about to do to it by eating the processed crap.

  They wander out into the kitchen, the cheap linoleum crackling underfoot, and it takes Zane no more than a few minutes to heat up the Hamburger Helper. It's slimy and gooey and all kinds of awful, but they force themselves to eat it since there's really nothing else in the house.

  A few hours later, Liam decides to call it a night after they've sat up and watched crappy late-night TV. Zane elects to sleep in Liam's not-quite-a-queen-but-bigger-than-a-twin bed tonight with him just in case Mike happens to come home and isn't in a good mood.

  His brother passes out almost instantly, snoring into the wall, no doubt exhausted from all the hard work he's been doing. The kid is a genius, straight A's since his teachers started letter grading. And before that it was nothing but gold stars and certificates of achievement that he was to bring home and show his parents. Liam had always brought them home and showed them to his brother instead. Zane has a whole folder of them tucked away somewhere safe in his closet. It's where he'll keep Liam's diplomas, and other awards in the future.

  Zane doesn't personally expect to excel like that, but he has Liam to be proud of anyway.

  He sighs and stares up at the glowing stars and moons and planets on the ceiling, little green dots in the darkness of the room, and he forces himself to pretend that the last thing he thinks of before he falls asleep is not an origami beetle.


  5

  It's been a week. It's been one week, and already I've learned so much.

  That's not to say that I've learned things that are at all useful per se, but I've learned one thing for certain: Windsor Falls is unlike any other place I've ever lived before. But in some ways, it's also remarkably the same.

  The whole concept of having friends is new to me. Charlie and Mason so far are turning out to be strangely loyal. And Bonnie Baker next door has certainly proven herself to be every bit as motherly and eccentric as I first pegged her to be. Me and Sophia have already received two casseroles, one of which contained pickled quail eggs.

  I didn't even know those exist. Apparently they do.

  And then there are the Five Cancers. That's what I've taken to calling them, Zane and his friends. I don't want to include Zane in that category, but he's giving me no choice. I'd wanted to believe that there was something more to him than what his reputation holds, and frankly, I still believe there is. But it's a side of him that he's not showing anybody, let alone me, and he has no reason to either. We don't know each other, no matter how breathtaking that smile at Hartley's Bend had been when I'd first seen him.

  So I consider Zane part of the Five Cancers. Every high school has them, those little flaws that make things less than perfect. Those people that ruin the good, or at least mar it, for everyone else. I've made it a point to learn their names, their methods of torment, and to avoid them at all costs. It's for the best. If I see them coming, I walk the other way.

  But, naturally, I couldn't avoid them forever. We do go to the same school after all.

  I've been able to get away with icy glares and the occasional shove in the hallway from the Cancers so far. Sometimes it's all five of them together, and sometimes it's only two or three. I see them messing with other students too. I'm thankful I'm not the only one they've chosen to target, but I do feel bad for the other kids. Maybe I shouldn't, because I'm on their same level; I'm a target too. But I feel bad anyway. I can't help myself.

  I also can't help the fact that every time I see Zane Peterson, I feel a little weak in the knees, and not weak-in-the-knees-scared like I should be, but weak-in-the-knees-lovestruck-teenager. Which is just all kinds of sick. Maybe I've finally cracked. Maybe I've grown to enjoy being treated like a wad of gum on the sole of some bully's shoe.

  And it doesn't help that me and Zane are in the same math class. But so far, he's left me alone in there. We sit on opposite sides of the classroom, and apart from the occasional awkward eye contact, we're perfect strangers. And maybe that's a good thing. Maybe that's progress, since it seems that Zane is only really mean to me when he's with his friends. He never taunts me when the other Cancers aren't there.

  It's Monday morning and my second week of school. The days are getting colder as September draws to an end, and I huddle in on myself as I approach the high school visible through the break in the trees ahead. I'd originally been waking up much earlier than necessary to get Sophia to school on time on the handlebars of my bike, but then Bonnie told me that she's a nurse at the K-8 school, and had offered to give Sophia rides in the morning. Sophia had grumbled and complained, saying that Ethan keeps playing pranks on her in the car, but then relented when she saw how tired I was after only a week of my senior year.

  It rained the night before and the ground squelches and shines underfoot as I break free of the trees and begin making my way across the parking lot towards school. I smell cigarette smoke in the air but disregard it. I'd learned last week that the place is called The Docks, the spot where all the smokers, including the Cancers, hang out to get their fix. I have to pass by it every day on my way to school.

  My shoes splash in tiny puddles left over from the rain in the parking lot as I walk, but after a few moments, I realize that it's not just my footsteps I'm hearing. Someone is following me.

  My stomach drops a little. It could be anybody—just another student heading to school like I am. I'm not the only one who uses that path through the woods to walk to school after all.

  But something tells me it's not just another student. I glance over my shoulder, suppressing a shiver of dread when I see three of the Cancers following me. Gordon and Slate, if I remember their names correctly, and of course, Zane himself. Gordon and Slate lead the pack, about ten feet or so behind me, with Zane trailing behind them, sucking on the last remains of his cigarette before flicking it into a puddle.

  Slate gives me a toothy grin when he sees me peek over my shoulder at them, and I swallow hard, facing front again and continuing forward, holding onto the straps of my backpack a bit tighter and picking up my pace. I don't know why I think that they'll stop following me if I just get to the school and get inside, but I've got to have a little hope and a goal in mind, so I eye the door and make that my destination.

  Get to the door, get to the door, get to the door, don't look back, just get inside.

  I know this won't end well. Know from years of experience with Cancers just like these ones. It was only a matter of time.

  "Hey Ariel, wait up!" I hear Gordon's voice call out. "We wanna ask you something."

  I don't respond, walking faster, and gritting my teeth when I hear them pick up the pace too.

  "Come on girl, don't be like that!" Gordon laughs. "We just wanna talk!"

  Sure you do, I think to myself, my shoe landing in a particularly large puddle and splashing water up on my leg. I glance down at it and grimace.

  "Are you ignoring us, Ariel?" I hear Slate's nasally voice ask, sounding a lot closer than before. "You know that's rude."

  I flinch when I feel a bony hand at my elbow and I instinctively yank my arm free. Bad idea.

  Next thing I know, two sets of hands are grabbing me, and I'm spinning around, coming face-to-face with Slate and Gordon, my backpack falling off and landing somewhere on the ground. They're both smiling, but it's an ugly smile. They grip my arms tightly.

  "Look, I don't want any trouble, okay?" I hear myself say pathetically. "Please, just leave me alone."

  Gordon and Slate both laugh, and I'm shocked to hear Zane laughing too from behind them. I don't know why I'm surprised that he's playing along. He's just another Cancer. I have no idea why I have this weird faith in the guy. I shouldn't.

  My eyes search for Zane, but I can't see over Gordon or Slate's shoulders where they've come together hovering in front of me, holding me in such a way that I'm leaning back, tipping off balance.

  "Now is that any way to treat your new friends?" Gordon asks. "We just wanted to talk."

  I swallow hard, trying to subtly slip my arms out of their grips, but they only hold harder. "What do you want?" I ask, and God my voice sounds a lot more pathetic than I thought it would. And holy shit, I realize I'm actually scared right now. Whether it's past experience sending off warning bells in my head, or the fact that I just really, really don't want to deal with bullies again, my heart is pounding in my chest, and my throat is dry.

  "All I wanted to know was where you got this shirt," Gordon says, eyeing my simple plain black t-shirt. "Because Zane here's been looking for one just like it."

  My eyebrows press together as Zane comes forward and steps between Slate and Gordon right up in my personal space. "Yeah, you know, it's a really nice shirt," he drawls. "I'd really like to get one. Can you help me out?"

  Zane's fingers come up and run along the collar of my shirt, and for a moment, I can't breathe. This is the nearest I've ever been to him, and up close like this, in the gray light of morning, he's even more beautiful than I thought. And it hurts how unfair it is.

  When I say nothing, his mossy glittering eyes flick up to mine, and there's something there, something communicated for a brief moment, but I don't catch it before that mask is back up and in place and he's playing along with his friends again.

  "I don't really think it's fair that Ariel gets to have a nice shirt like this when you can't, is it?" Slate says to Zane, and I see a
brief flittering dislike flicker across Zane's face when Slate addresses him directly, but that too disappears behind the mask again. God, there is so much going on in this boy's head that he doesn't let people see. Except, I can see it, especially up close like this.

  Zane's fingers drop away from my collar, and I mourn the loss of the touch. "No, you're right, it's not fair," he agrees, locking eyes with me again.

  "What do you think, Ariel? You think that's fair?" Gordon asks.

  I don't know what to say. I stare at Zane, swallowing convulsively, my heart pounding. And I know that no matter what I say, these guys are going to carry on doing exactly what they planned. It doesn't matter what I say now. This I know from experience. There's no way to stop this from running its course.

  My lack of response earns me a smack on the side of my head from Gordon. "She's ignoring us again!" he exclaims. "Can you believe this bitch?"

  I blink a couple times, my brain catching up to the fact that he just hit me. The first hit, I think. I feel pathetic for not fighting back, but that's something that I never do. I don't fight. I'm not a fighter. That's something I don't believe in. So no matter how many Cancers I have to to deal with in my life, I will never fight back. I promised myself that a long time ago. I will not hurt another human being, even if they're hurting me.

  One of Slate's bony hands releases my arm, coming up and taking my jaw in a tight grip and turning my face towards his. Slate looks older this close up. I'd heard somewhere that he's twenty-one, and has just been held back in high school for a couple years. I didn't believe it at first, but now, up close like this, seeing the age difference, I realize it's true. I don't know why the fact that Slate is older makes this more scary, but it does.

  "The way I see it is, you got one of two options," he says, suddenly very serious, like this is the most relevant conversation and situation in the world. "You can either give Zane your shirt and take the generous route, or you can keep the shirt but make it so no one wants it. Make it ugly. It's your choice."