Dirty Fraud

by Eden Beck

  Dirty Fraud

  Hawthorne Holy Trinity Book Two

  Eden Beck

  Dirty Fraud by Eden Beck

  © 2019 Eden Beck

  All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of including brief passages for use in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  For permissions contact:

  authoredenbeck@gmail.com

  Ebook ASIN: B07T6SK26P

  Also by Eden Beck

  Hawthorne Holy Trinity

  Dirty Liars

  Dirty Fraud

  Dirty Revenge

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  A Note From The Author

  Chapter 1

  There is nothing so cruel as silence.

  Silence has become the sound of my summer … and all the days before since I was found out at the end of my first semester at Hawthorne Academy. I stole a life and paid for it dearly.

  Sadie White was everything I ever wanted—rich, powerful, loved—but it couldn’t last. I could only hide behind the face of a dead girl for so long. Teddy Price is nothing more than a charity case, a liar, a fraud.

  I’d grown comfortable with that life before. I’d known it was my lot. I was a degenerate, a loser, a light-fingered girl with no future ahead of her. But then that girl dared to dream … and like all dreams, eventually she had to wake.

  And the reality that came after was so much worse than before.

  My shift at the local movie theatre ended over an hour ago, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to go back to the foster home. This time the silence presses around me in the form of a late Thursday night after a long, thankless shift getting yelled at by blue-haired old ladies complaining that every day should be senior discount day. The only sounds are the buzz of a broken streetlamp that keeps flickering on and off overhead, and the crinkle of the plastic wrapping on the pack of cigarettes in my hand.

  The door to the back of the theater opens and light spills out over my figure hunched over the edge of the curb.

  “Jesus, Teddy … you scared me.”

  Rob’s shadow passes over me as he walks lazily over to the dumpster and throws the bag of two-week-old popcorn and even-older nacho cheese inside. His shadow jumps at the sight of a rat and he quickly shoos it away, much to the rat’s displeasure. It lets us know with a flurry of furious squeaks.

  “Careful, Rob,” I say. “He’ll bite you next time.”

  “Shit.” His voice is low. “I think he just did.”

  Shit. That’s the right word for it … just about sums up my entire life at the moment.

  My coworker and cautious compatriot for the summer comes to sit beside me on the curb. He lets out a long, exhausted sigh as he eases himself down beside me and tries to show me the bite mark on his ankle.

  I’m not really paying attention. I just keep turning over the pack of cigarettes in my hands as he talks over the crackle of the packaging.

  “… that’s crazy, right?”

  “Crazy,” I say, absentmindedly.

  Rob stops talking and leans forward, forcing himself into my line of vision. He waves one hand in front of my face, and I slap it away.

  “Earth to Teddy,” he says. “What’s up with you lately? I mean … you’ve always been a mope, but lately it’s like you’re off on another planet.” He stops and eyes me more closely, trying to get a good look at me in the dim light of the streetlamp overhead. “Are you on meth or something?”

  “Ha.” I almost choke out a laugh. That’s not the first time I’ve been accused of being on drugs … but the last time I actually was. Not quite meth caliber, but it did leave me in a hospital bed with my stomach getting pumped. The memory brings with it a stinging sensation at the back of my eyes.

  Rob’s hand snakes out and snatches the cigarettes from my hand. He tears off the plastic wrapper, gives the box a good smack, and pulls one out for himself. When he hands the pack back, he leaves his hand on mine for a moment too long.

  He’s really not a bad looking guy, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to think of him in that way. Not that he hasn’t made a move. He’s made it very clear that he’s into me, and I’ve done my best to keep him at bay over the last few months.

  I jerk my hand away and take out one of my own … only to realize I don’t even have a lighter. I’ve never smoked before. I only bought the pack to celebrate turning eighteen oh … fifteen minutes ago? It’s been a while since I got into any kind of trouble, but somehow buying the cigarettes didn’t bring me quite the thrill I thought it would.

  Rob, on the other hand, is a three-packs-a-day sort of guy. Within seconds, he’s spouting a stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth and cupping a hand to help light one for me too. The cigarette sizzles to life, burning with a tiny pinprick of orange light between my pointer and middle finger.

  His eyes linger on me as I take a cautious drag—only to immediately double over coughing. The smoke burns at my eyes and lungs, stinging like a thousand tiny needles pricking at my insides.

  “First time?”

  I blink tears from my eyes and look away, stifling another cough.

  Rob takes the opportunity to snake a hand between my legs. He starts mid-thigh and starts moving higher, his hand pressing against the cheap fabric of the unflattering work pants.

  “I bet there’s all sorts of things that’d be ‘firsts’ for you, huh?”

  The last time someone touched me like that, I was wrapped up in the arms of Astor, Blair, and Wills before Thanksgiving break. It was so, so different then.

  A sickening pit forms in my stomach, and I shove him away and jump to my feet. This place suddenly doesn’t feel any better than home.

  “I have to go,” I say, reaching to grab my things from where I left them on the curb beside me.

  Rob catches my wrist and tugs me closer to him, his grip strong enough to bruise. This close to him, I can smell more than cigarette smoke on him.

  “C’mon Teddy,” he purrs. “I know you want me too.”

  I try to wrench myself free, but he isn’t having any of it. He grabs the back of my head with his free hand and uses it to smash my lips against his. I keep my lips pressed tightly together and try to push off of him with my other hand, palm flat against his chest. But he only tugs my hair, making me gasp in pain, and then shoves his tongue down my throat.

  I can’t even cry out. I can’t push away. It’s just me, and Rob, and the rat returned to the alley all alone.

  The sound of a motorcycle engine roars down the alleyway, startling Rob enough to loosen his grasp for just one second. And me? I bite.

  Hard.

  Metallic blood floods my mouth and Rob lets go entirely. I move in a frantic blur, grabbing my stuff and stumbling back and away as fast as I can. He calls after me, but I don’t look back to see hi
s reaction. I’m just running, running as fast as I can down the alley towards home.

  I have to stop several blocks over to vomit into a nearby bush. The taste of blood still lingers in my mouth, and the taste of him on my lips.

  I should’ve seen this coming. I should never have let myself be alone with him.

  No. I think, as I straighten up and wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. This isn’t your fault.

  I’ve taken blame for a lot of things in the last year. This, for once, is not mine to take.

  The streets leading back to the house are darker than usual tonight, or maybe it’s just me. I move like a zombie; my limbs numb and my mind reeling. I hug my arms across my body, the closest thing to affectionate touch since I lost everything last semester.

  Last year.

  It’s the end of summer, and it’s been one of the most difficult summers of my life. Coming from me … that’s saying a lot.

  I’ve been working as a ticket taker at the local movie theater to pay back Mrs. and Mr. White for the money I stole from the school account ever since I came back from Hawthorne Academy. Compared to my home life, which involves me taking care of the six other kids Ms. Martin, my foster mother, has in her charge … it’s been a godsend. Until now.

  I can’t go back. Not after that.

  After all, who’s going to believe my side of the story?

  Ms. Martin’s a mean old drunk who makes every moment in her house a living hell for me, but that too, isn’t the worst of what I’ve been suffering through.

  No. The worst has been an ironic juxtaposition of being so relieved to be away from school, and at the same time wishing with everything in me that I was already back. My plan to impersonate Sadie white and take her place at a prestigious prep school backfired epically, branding me as a social pariah not worth acknowledging.

  Literally.

  Aside from Dana, I was virtually invisible for the last whole semester at school. I never thought there could be a punishment worse than the ones Wills, Blair, and Astor came up with at the beginning of the school year—but I was wrong.

  The only thing worse than having their attention for the wrong reasons was not having it at all.

  For nearly six months I endured. Nothing I did or said could make them even look at me, so I kept my head down and made it through to the last day. I thought I’d be glad of the space between us, to not be hated and treated like I don’t exist for a couple months before I had to go back. I was wrong. All I’ve been able to do all summer is think of school.

  And of them.

  William Stryker, or Wills for short; the jock, king of anything he puts his impressive body to and fiercely protective. He saved me once from drowning, only for me to drown in the color of his eyes that matched the stormy waters.

  Blair Rashnikov; the flirt with hair dyed a silvery-white color and the most dazzling green eyes full of mischief. There’s a nearly androgynous beauty to him outranked only by the spit-fire spirit that made my body melt into his each time we touched.

  And then there’s Astor Hawthorne; the ringleader of the three, as well as the self-styled king of the school. His family founded the Hawthorne Academy about a century ago, and he’s not likely to let anyone forget it. It’s his legacy, and he guards it fiercely.

  He’s the kind of handsome with a jawline for days, with dark golden-brown hair and eyes to match. Like Sadie once did, he has it all; wealth, looks, popularity … but unlike Sadie, he also has brains. I got through his impenetrable wall and found the soul hidden within last year. In the quiet moments, it’s this that aches the most—the fear that I’ll never again see the real Astor. The real man I know lies behind that cruel facade.

  For a few, short weeks they were my family. I adored and was adored. Then they found out about my lies, about the theft of Sadie’s life, and none of them have spoken to me since. Their influence spread to the entire school until I became like a ghost; present but invisible to all.

  Eight months. Eight months of deafening silence, and finally here, walking under the streetlamps of my old, run-down town … and I finally realize it’s over.

  I can’t believe it took this long for me to see it. It took Rob—and that stunt he just tried to pull—for me to realize they aren’t going to swoop in and save me this time. My protectors have moved on. All that’s left is for me to try and do the same. It’s back to the beginning; Teddy Price, alone against the world.

  The front door to the house is unlocked, even though it’s well after midnight at this point. Mrs. Martin is passed out on her bed with the door cracked open, as she’s want to do this many bottles in. Her snores rattle the cheap pictures hanging on the walls. She didn’t want to let me come back at all this summer, but she needed the money to keep funding her drinking habit.

  Lucky me.

  I’d planned to sneak past her straight to bed, but I spot a couple of the younger kids sitting in the corner of the kitchen floor eating dry cereal out of a plastic bag. They’re dirty and poorly dressed. I sigh and give them a smile.

  “What are you doing up this late?” I ask, squatting down to their level and glancing over my shoulder towards Ms. Martin’s room. She’ll throw a fit if she finds them like this. These ones are new to the house and don’t know better. I catch sight of Cassie and Rachel peeking out from the bedroom down the hall and beckon them out too.

  None of them say anything. They just look up at me with wide, terrified eyes.

  “C’mon. I’ll make you something to eat.” I get them settled at the table and scrounge through half-empty beer cans until I find some leftover hotdogs from the back of the fridge to microwave.

  All the while that I’m cooking, if it can even be called that, all I can think is that no one like Ms. Martin should be caring for children. I’m bitter about all the money I was blackmailed into sending to her so she’d keep her mouth shut about my identity at the school last year.

  I’ve gotten a lot of it paid back, but I still owe some. What kind of a woman does that? But then again, what kind of a person steals the identity of a dead girl so she can go to school and have a different life?

  A desperate person, that’s who.

  I guess I shouldn’t throw stones at glass houses, but then I look at the kids hungrily scarfing down expired, rubbery hotdogs like they haven’t eaten in a week. At least I’m trying. My lies were discovered. I owned up to them, and I’m paying the price.

  I used to think it could be worse, but now I’m not so sure. In a way, I’m the lucky one. I’ll be at school in days, and I don’t plan on ever coming back. They still have a whole life ahead of them. If it isn’t here—it’s somewhere else.

  As if awakened by my thoughts, there’s a groan as Ms. Martin throws open the door to her bedroom and stumbles out, bleary-eyed and fuming. I step up to block her path while the kids shove a last mouthful of hotdog into their mouths before scattering.

  Her voice is dry and raspy.

  “What’re you doing here?” she snaps, blinking down at me like I’m a piece of garbage she forgot to throw out.

  I can smell her, even from here and through the taste of cigarette smoke on my tongue. She’s clearly still drunk from the way she stands on her feet. Her robe hangs off her bony figure, revealing a thin and tattered nightgown beneath it.

  One wrinkled, chalky hand points my way accusatorially.

  “Leave them alone,” I say, glancing over my shoulder as the last of them ducks into one of the bedrooms. “You’re drunk.”

  “You don’t—” she grunts and hiccups, “get to tell me what to do.”

  She stops for a second and stares at the microwave for a long, teetering, moment. Now that the others are out of harm’s way, at least for now, my work is done. I start turning away, planning to head to bed before she inevitably passes out and starts puking on the kitchen floor again, but her next words make me freeze.

  "Get out.”

  I stop and shoot her a look. “I’m just going to bed—”


  “No.” She burps and stumbles towards the door, which she flings wide. “Get out. Now.”

  I glare at her. “What are you talking about? It’s the middle of the night!”

  A hateful smirk forms on her three-day-old makeup-caked face. “Damn straight, it’s the middle of the night. I think some birthday congratulations are in order, Theodora.”

  I can’t stand that name, and she knows it.

  Her smirk turns into a wicked grin for a moment. “So, happy birthday. You’re eighteen now. Time for you to get the hell out of here.” She lurches over to the sink and thrusts a plastic garbage bag at me. “Here. Pack your crap and get out.”

  Panic shoots through me and my eyes grow wide. This is the last place on earth I want to be, but it’s the only place I have.

  “I can’t leave right now, I don’t have anywhere to go!”

  “That ain’t my problem, kid.” She turns and loses her balance, reaching for the countertop to save herself from falling on the floor.

  “Look, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to be, but if you kick me out before Monday, I’ll be on the street!” My heart is racing and the icy fingers of fear grip me. I always knew this would happen. Eventually, it’s where people like me always end up. The unwanted. The delinquent. I just didn’t think it would be right here, right now.

  She shrugs. “Like I said, it ain’t my problem. As of two hours ago, I don’t get paid squat for you, so you’re out. You’re an adult now. Go find your own way in the world.”

  My mind is racing. Even if I did have a place to go, I don’t have a way to get in touch with anyone. I don’t have a phone or access to a computer. I’ve even been banned from the public library thanks to Ms. Martin’s tendency to use books for doorstoppers. Not that they’d be open at this hour.