Noble Savages: A Dark High School Bully Romance Box Set

by Rina Kent

  We’d been afraid of Hunter.

  His dad owned most of the town, and so did Camden’s. They were partners and best friends, and they each had equally spoiled meathead sons to root for on Friday nights. But did they have enough money to buy off a rape charge? Surely not. Hunter wouldn’t even be at school today… or at least I’d been telling myself that as I sat in my red Corolla in the parking lot. The bell was going to ring in five minutes—about the time it took for me to walk to my locker.

  With a deep breath, I gripped the handle of my backpack and climbed out of my car. I wish Paige had texted me back. All weekend she’d been ignoring my texts and calls, but I’d chalked it up to her needing time to process what had happened. I’d need to talk to Jade as well, make sure she was okay.

  The bell must’ve already rung by the time I made it to the entrance. No one was outside killing time before they had to get to their first period. The bench that the jocks huddled around was empty. It was almost... peaceful. Maybe being late wasn’t such a bad thing.

  When I made it to my locker, my friend, Sebastian, was waiting by it, glancing around nervously before widening his eyes when he spotted me.

  “Hey.” I gave a small wave and frowned at his expression.

  “Hey, um. Don’t open your locker.”

  “What?” I reached for the handle, ignoring Sebastian’s words until he placed his palm over it to keep it closed.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Eden.” His eyes darted up and down the empty halls. We were, without a doubt, late. “Someone put something in it. I went to copy your history notes and just about had a heart attack. I was waiting to warn you, but we need to go get the principal.”

  Oh no.

  Hunter.

  Sebastian tried urging me toward the principal's office, but I shook him off and lifted the handle to open my locker. Whatever it was, I could take it.

  Or not.

  My hand shot to my mouth to stifle my gag. It was a dead rat. Not just dead, but disemboweled. Its blood and guts sat in a pile on my books while the body dangled from its tail tied to the jacket hook.

  “Get to class!” The voice came from Mr. Montgomery, the vice principal. Before Sebastian could call him over, I slammed the locker shut and adjusted the bag on my shoulder. I gripped Sebastian’s arm and shook my head before tugging him along to first period. Luckily, we had it together.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered, once we’d walked past the office that Mr. Montgomery had disappeared into.

  “We can’t say anything.”

  “What? Eden, someone strung a dead rat up in your locker! We have to say something.”

  “No.” I stopped and turned to face him. “Listen, something happened over the weekend that I can’t explain right now, but if I tell on who did this, it’ll only get worse. Trust me.”

  Sebastian’s brows wrinkled and his lips pressed together, but he gave a curt nod. “Fine, but you’re filling me in later.”

  “I will, I promise.”

  My first two periods passed in a blur. A sinking feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach made me want to throw up the blueberry muffin I’d had for breakfast.

  He knew it was me.

  Of course he did. I’d thrown open the door, screamed through it when he’d slammed it in my face, and on top of all that, Camden Knight had seen me make the call. It would be idiotic for him not to know it was me, and I’d be insane to think he wouldn’t retaliate. The dead rat in my locker was only the beginning, and each second that ticked by brought me closer to fourth period, AKA Senior English. Cam and Hunter were both in that class. So was Sebastian, thankfully. At least I had one ally.

  Paige!

  In the middle of Mrs. Morris’s lecture, I pulled out my phone and shot her a quick text.

  * * *

  Watch your back. The assholes are retaliating.

  * * *

  Three dots popped up, but then disappeared.

  “Eden.”

  I glanced up to see Mrs. Morris’s disapproving stare. Her finger still pointed to a triangle on the board.

  “Is there something more important that you’d like to share?”

  More important than trigonometry? You bet.

  “No, sorry.”

  Her frown deepened before she went back to the board. “See me after class.”

  I sank in my seat as a few kids around me snickered. This day was going to be entirely too long.

  I spent the rest of the class copying what Mrs. Morris wrote on the board and trying to make sense of it. It was a hazy concept every other day, but today, there was no way I was getting it. She might as well have been speaking Chinese. My mind kept wandering off to visions of fourth period. Having to face Hunter. The rapist.

  He was the one at fault, not me. So why was I cowering in fear? Why was I the one dreading seeing his face? He should be ashamed to step foot in this school, if he was even here at all. Why was I scared of him?

  Fuck him. Fuck all of them.

  The only mistake I’d made was running away Friday night and not checking on Jade.

  I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened up my Instagram account. I didn’t have her number, but I still knew how to get ahold of her. The overachiever beside me gawked as he spotted me typing away under my desk after I’d already been caught.

  * * *

  I’m so sorry for not making sure you were okay Friday night. I hate myself right now. Can we talk?

  * * *

  The bell rang just as I hit send. I shoved the phone back in my pocket and gathered my things. None were actually for this class. My trig notes were in my locker, soaking in rat blood at the moment, so all I had was an extra notebook and a pen.

  Mrs. Morris erased the board and waited for the last person to leave before facing me. “I noticed you didn’t turn your homework in.”

  Also soaking in rat blood.

  “I forgot to do it… sorry.”

  “I find it odd that you’d apologize to me.” She placed a hand on her hip and frowned. It was the same displeased stance she’d given me throughout the last three years. But I liked Mrs. Morris. She was a ‘no student left behind’ teacher, and I admired her for it, so each year I requested her class anyway. “It’s not my future you seem intent on jeopardizing.”

  “With all due respect, Berklee College of Music doesn’t care about my math grade.”

  “Do they care about high school diplomas?” She sighed when I didn’t say anything. “Eden, have you thought about what you’d do if you didn’t get into Berklee? Do you have a plan B?”

  Plan B? I didn’t believe in plan B’s. All they did was distract you from plan A. Besides, I’d been working toward Berklee since freshman year. I had rehearsal every day during the week, and I practiced for hours on the weekends. Christmases, birthdays, it didn’t matter. The cello was my life, and I was going to Berklee. I knew my audition piece by heart.

  “I’ll be fine, Mrs. Morris. And I won’t miss any more assignments.”

  “Have Friday’s assignment on my desk by tomorrow.”

  I smiled and nodded. No student left behind. “Promise. Can I borrow a textbook?”

  Her head tilted. “Why?”

  “I misplaced mine... I’ll find it, I’m just not sure I will by tonight.” She was already moving to get a textbook before I finished the lie.

  “Work harder, Eden. I promise you won’t regret it.” I nodded again and took the textbook she held out to me. A kid kicking a soccer ball was on the cover, smiling ear to ear. Math books seemed to be the only ones that had covers that didn’t reflect the subject matter. Even the illustrators understood its unappeal.

  “I will.”

  Hugging the book to my chest, I turned and walked from the room, passing the first few students wandering in. I’d forgotten all of the dread that’d been clouding my mind, and I didn’t let it return. It was too ridiculous to hide from them when they were the ones in the wrong. Dead rat or not, they weren’t
going to see me cower.

  My chin jutted and shoulders squared as I entered the classroom for Senior English. Neither Hunter nor Camden were there, so it was mostly in vain, but a surge of pride rushed through me anyway as I took my seat next to Sebastian and let the textbook slam on the desk.

  “Um, wrong class.” Sebastian eyed me warily, the same way he had all of first period.

  I stuffed the textbook into my bag and pulled out my spare notebook.

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  I peered up at him and gave my best smile. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

  His forehead wrinkled and he shrugged like he didn’t know what to say. He probably thought I was crazy, and maybe I was. I’d been invisible all through high school, standing on the sidelines watching everyone else’s drama. Now, I was in Hunter O’Reilly’s crosshairs, my invisibility cloak lying on the floor.

  Fine. Bring it.

  I checked my phone to see if Jade or Paige had messaged me back. Nope. I hoped they weren’t being terrorized as well. I alone was responsible for the cops showing up at Hunter’s party, so I hoped he kept the blame on me. Or better yet, put it on himself.

  The bell rang and Mr. Gordan closed the door. I relaxed into my seat and flipped my notebook open, settling on the fact that Hunter was indeed not at school. He’d been arrested, expelled, and was awaiting trial. It was only his minions that I had to deal with, and that’d be simple enough. Especially once word got around that Hunter was a rapist.

  But then the door flew open, and in walked the devil—or devils—themselves. They were laughing about something, and a little bit of that dread I swore I wouldn’t feel flushed through me. I couldn’t help but sweat thinking I might be the butt of their jokes.

  Mr. Gordan glared at them, but said nothing as they slammed the door and took their seats a few rows from me, toward the back. Neither one tossed me a glance, but I swore I felt their gazes burning into the back of my head each time their muffled laughs reached me.

  I sat up straighter and gripped my pen, listening intently to a lecture on Macbeth. English was my favorite subject. It and history. There was something beautiful about weaving together a story—even if nonfiction. Studying the mechanics of the written word stroked a part of my brain that craved art in its many forms.

  I didn’t hate school. Far from it. I only hated math.

  Something pointed pricked the back of my head and I jumped in my seat, catapulted from the world of Macbeth into the world of Lincoln High. Super.

  I reached behind me and pulled the paper airplane from between my back and the chair. I didn’t bother to look behind me. I knew who had thrown it. More chuckling came from the back of the room, and Mr. Gordan turned from the whiteboard to glare at Camden and Hunter.

  I unfolded the airplane and cringed. It was a crude picture of a rat with ‘x’s for eyes and red ink swirling from it onto the head of a stick figure girl. Wow. I wasn’t the only one with an appreciation for art.

  I rolled my eyes and crumpled the paper before tossing it into my bag. Sebastian caught my attention and mouthed ‘Are you okay?’. With a single nod, I leaned back in my seat and tried to refocus my attention.

  When class was let out, I turned to Sebastian while people shuffled around us. “We need to find Paige.”

  “Is she okay?”

  Before I could answer, Hunter planted his hands on my desk and leaned forward. “What’s up, Thompson?”

  Camden was standing behind him, an amused grin plastered on his face.

  “What do you want?”

  His brows rose. “I should ask you the same question.”

  What?

  He didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he grabbed my bag and threw it over his shoulder before nodding toward the door. “Let’s take a walk.”

  “Give that back to her.” Sebastian stood and stepped up to Hunter, his chest pushing out. Hunter was about a foot and a half taller, so whatever intimidation Sebastian was trying to exude, it didn’t quite stick. But it was sweet.

  Hunter laughed and tossed Camden a glance. Before they could communicate in douche code how to handle Sebastian, I stood.

  “It’s okay,” I said, giving Sebastian a warm smile and hoping he understood how grateful I was to have him as a friend.

  But I could handle this asshole myself.

  I turned to Hunter and gestured toward the door. “After you.”

  Hunter led the way and when Sebastian took a step forward, Camden blocked him with one strong arm. “Not you. Go practice your flute.”

  “He doesn’t play the flute,” I snapped, rearing back at Camden.

  The arrogant smile widened and he nodded toward the exit. I faced forward and stared at Hunter’s back while Camden’s gaze burned a hole in my head. There was only one set of footsteps behind me, reminding me that my only ally had stayed behind. It was just me… sandwiched between a rapist and an adulterer.

  Some of my bravery fizzled, and I slammed to a stop. Camden crashed into me a moment later, and he gripped my arms to shove me forward.

  “You want to talk, let’s talk,” I said, adding as much bite as I could muster.

  Hunter slowed to a crawl and tossed a glance at me over his shoulder. There was anger there… a lot of it. But a hint of amusement was there as well.

  He looked to Camden and paused a moment before nodding and continuing forward through the abandoned hallway. Everyone else had gone in the opposite direction toward the lunchroom. We were headed outside.

  “Look, seriously.” This time, I turned to Camden. I wasn’t stupid enough to think he was any better than Hunter. Camden was always the one pulling the strings. But at least he was less pissed. “You think I’m a rat. I got it. But he’s the one who needs punishing, so whatever you guys are planning to do—”

  Camden placed a finger on my lips and clucked his tongue. His other hand gripped me tighter as if sensing my urge to flee. “You talk too much, Thompson. That’s the problem.”

  Hunter pushed open the side door that led to the football field and Camden shoved me through, finally letting go of my arm. I stumbled and almost crashed into Hunter, but he slid to the side, revealing that we weren’t alone.

  Jade, Trey, and Paige stood in a half circle waiting for us.

  My eyes locked onto Jade first, confusion swirling in my mind when I noted her arms defensively crossed over her chest, her nostrils flared. When I looked to Paige to try and make sense of it, she wouldn’t meet my gaze. She bit her lip and stared at the cement.

  Jade’s voice snapped my attention back to her. “You have exactly one chance to explain yourself, Thompson. Make it count.”

  “What? Jade, are you okay?”

  She snorted. “Cut the bullshit. I already got your Instagram message, so let’s just skip to the part where you tell me why you tried to claim that Hunter raped me. Are you really that desperate?”

  My jaw dropped in disbelief. “Desperate? Jade I was just trying—”

  “You were trying to cause problems. And congrats, it worked. Cops shut down the party. But do you really think we’re just going to let it go?” She motioned toward the group slyly forming a circle around me.

  “Jade, he raped you! You were unconscious. He…” I looked to Paige and waved a hand at her new friends. “Tell them.”

  Trey stepped in front of her and puffed his chest out toward me. “Leave Paige the fuck out of your lies.”

  “You can’t rape the willing, Eden. God, you’re so pathetically jealous, aren’t you?” Jade said.

  “Jealous of what?” By that point, I was yelling. I didn’t even care that a six foot four boulder of pure muscle was clenching his fists at his sides a foot away. I don’t know what Paige told Trey, but she wasn’t on my side. Neither was Jade.

  “Of Hunter fucking Jade instead of you.” The circle went eerily silent as the voice of their king permeated the air. My brain was too cloudy to comment on the ludicrousy of that statement. Somehow, someway, they’d managed to
turn it around on me. But their reasoning made no sense.

  Footsteps sounded behind me until Camden came into my line of sight. He patted Trey’s shoulder, calming whatever rage had been incited. Trey stepped back with the others and Camden turned to me. “I told them.”

  That I called the cops on Hunter? Yeah, I figured.

  “Okay.” I drew the word out and glanced around at the others’ faces. Their lips were drawn in a tight line while they waited on Camden to finish whatever he had to say. He didn’t look nearly as angry as the rest of them. In fact, he didn’t look angry at all.

  “It’s okay, you don’t need to be embarrassed.”

  “Embarrassed about what? What Hunter did was wrong, and if you peo—”

  “Shhh.” Camden placed a finger on my lips to silence me again. I was getting tired of it, and I jerked away, ready to keep going, when his next words jumbled my thoughts.

  “I told them we slept together.”

  What?

  “I know, I promised you I wouldn’t, but I told them about your secret fantasy of sleeping with the football team too… I felt Jade deserved to know why you’d be angry with her for having sex with Hunter. He’s not interested in you, babe.”

  I was lost for words. My mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, but nothing would come out.

  This wasn’t Hunter’s doing. It was Camden’s. Or did they know he was lying? Maybe I was the only one not clued in on what he was trying to pull.

  “And as sweet as that is,” Hunter mocked, stepping up to me—too close. “You can’t just go around accusing people of rape. Do you know what that could’ve done to my scholarship?”

  He was there! He was fucking there! There was no way he actually believed the bullshit he was spewing.

  “You know what you did.” The statement came out far less intimidating than I’d meant it. My voice was barely loud enough for him to hear.

  “Jade,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you willingly have sex with me Friday night?”