by Jenni Sloane
“What’s the Station?” I asked on an impulse. “I heard Callahan mention it the other day.”
He made a sound that might have been an attempt at a laugh. “You want me to show you?”
“Now?” I was confused.
“We’ll ride back together once our shift is done.”
What the hell? What planet had I stepped onto? Why was Archer being nice…ish?
The fear that I was walking into a trap set in.
“Uh. Okay.”
He nodded abruptly, as though snapping back into his usual stoic, reticent self. “Let’s get back to work.”
And so we got back to work. When the shift ended, we both got on our bikes and rode side by side back to Strathmore. In silence.
After we’d signed in, Archer led me out of the main building, across the stretch of courtyard, and into the old chapel. I’d never been in here. The outside had always seemed cold to me, and the inside did little to change my feelings. It seemed barren, uncared for. Scuffed, aging pews, dull stained glass, peeling walls.
He led me toward the altar, then into the south transept. There, in the wall, was a tiny wooden door.
“This is it?” I asked.
“This is it,” he confirmed. He pried open the door, revealing a musty crawlspace not even big enough for a person to stand up in. “Rumor has it they used to use this as a punishment chamber. Back when you were still allowed to beat students and lock them up and shit. They’d shut kids up in here for half an hour, and the kids would come out literally insane. Gasping for air, babbling about ghosts.”
“Sounds lovely.” I stared into the darkness, not liking the feeling that crept into me.
Callahan had threatened Cole with a trip to the Station. Had she been joking? A horrible joke, if so. And if she’d been serious… I almost wanted to ask Archer what he thought. But as pleasant as he’d been this afternoon, he was still one of them. I couldn’t trust him not to lie to me. Not to be plotting against me. I wasn’t going to push my luck.
“Right?” He stared inside a moment longer, then shut the door.
I had goosebumps on the back of my neck. “Let’s go,” I said. “I don’t like it in here.”
I didn’t think about what I was saying. About the fact that I was flat-out stating what I wanted to a man I didn’t trust not to use my wishes against me.
But without mocking me, Archer turned to lead the way out.
“Oi!” someone called.
I turned toward the back of the chapel.
Ian was striding toward us. He ignored me and went right for Archer. “You said you’d be back ages ago.”
Archer’s expression had taken on an impressive level of impassivity. “Sorry. I had to show Amma something.”
Ian glanced over at me. The tip of his tongue flicked one of his lip rings, which glinted. There was a matching spark in his eyes.
My chest tightened. I was trapped. If Ian decided he wanted to do something to me, I had no doubt whose side Archer would take.
Ian turned to his brother again. “You can’t just leave me cooped up like a dog you don’t feel like walking. I had to sign three autographs for Marissa Corden alone on my way to find you.”
“You need a bodyguard to protect you from Marissa Corden?” Archer asked.
“That’s not the point,” Ian insisted. He cast me a glare. “What are you doing here with her?”
“Showing her around,” Archer replied calmly.
Ian’s gaze was locked on me. “I told you she can sing, right?”
“You did,” Archer agreed.
I resisted the urge to take a step back from both of them. I knew something bad was about to happen. But there was nothing I could do to stop it.
“She sounds a little like Meg,” Ian told his brother, still looking at me.
Meg?
“Ian, don’t,” Archer said softly.
But Ian didn’t seem to be listening. “Sing for us, Amma.” And as much as I hated myself for it, the sound of my name in his gravelly voice sent a shiver through me. “Show him.”
“No,” I said, fighting the strange ache of pleasure and anger inside me.
I pushed past him and started toward the door, but Ian grabbed my wrist. I gasped, whirling. His green-blue eyes were dark with something I couldn’t quite identify. “Just one song. Up on the altar. It can be one of your church hymns. Just let me hear you.”
How did he know I sang in church? Why was he staring at me with eyes that blazed and pled in equal measure?
“I told you, I don’t want to.”
He squeezed my wrist, and I struggled not to cry out.
“I need to hear you.” His voice was soft, but the threat was clear.
I found myself mesmerized by that gaze, by the heat in it. My head spun, and warmth drifted up my spine, as light and shivery sensation as a feather being dragged across my skin.
I was backing toward the altar in spite of myself.
What would one song hurt? If it made him wish for something he could never possess, wasn’t it a victory, not a humiliation? If it reminded him of Meg—whoever Meg was—then hadn’t I succeeded in weaving myself through his past? Forcing this self-styled god to remember that he hadn’t always been the man who stood here in this moment, able to command adoration?
But that cold surge of power had no sooner filled me than it faded. No matter how beautifully I sang, no matter what my voice did to him, I was still performing like a trained animal. He snapped his fingers, and I obeyed.
“Ian…” If it was a protest on Archer’s part, it was a halfhearted one. He watched me step up onto the stage, my head down, my whole body tense with shame. I loathed myself for caving. For letting them take this from me.
“Look up, darling,” Ian said. “I want to see you.”
When I looked up, I could barely see either of them for tears. This chapel was nothing like my church. I felt no warmth here, no comfort. Still, I opened my mouth and began to sing “Shall we Gather at the River.” My voice was steady. Lovely and pure. The only lovely, pure thing about me. The rest of me was trailer trash, was a meek little girl without the strength to stand up for herself.
I lost myself in the words, the notes. I let myself be transported home, to my church, my childhood. I let regret fill me and then pass away.
When I finished, my eyes were dry. I put the back of my hand to my nose and wiped. Ian and Archer were both staring at me like I was the Virgin Mother herself. But it made no difference. Ian had stripped the last, most crucial piece of autonomy from me. He had made me share something that had always been mine and only mine.
In this moment, he was worse than Cole and Bennett combined.
“That was stunning,” Ian said softly.
Archer offered his hand to help me down the step, but I ignored him. I was completely numb. “It was,” Archer whispered, with something like regret in his tone.
I didn’t even hear what else they said. Something about Meg. About angels. I didn’t care. I walked alone down the aisle and out into the dreary evening.
Ahead of me, the ivy-covered bricks of Strathmore stood as immutable as the school’s own savage history. Whereas I bent with the slightest breeze. Snapped like a twig the minute anyone applied pressure. What chance did I stand against this place?
“TT!”
I turned toward Cole’s voice, dreading whatever was coming.
He bounded up to me, and I made every effort not to flinch. Meanwhile, that sick pleasure I got from his presence infused me, turning my blood hot, my skin electric. He fell into step beside me. “Hey. I might need you to do me a solid. In exchange for me saving you from certain death by swimming pool.”
Was he making a joke? And not, like, a cruel joke, but a playful one?
“What?” I muttered.
He held out his hands. They were red and swollen.
I stared in shock. The damage was much worse that the last time. “I don’t think Rominsky was impressed with my impromptu div
e the other night. He’s got me polishing his personal trophy cache, in a secret room where I can’t interact with anyone.” He grinned. “But I hear he’s got big plans for his detentionees tomorrow night. He’s got a bunch of kids in his session, so he’s making us polish the bleachers around the track.”
My eyebrows went up.
“That’s right,” Cole said. “Polishing bleachers.”
“Sounds…awful.”
“And look, I know I’m all washed up, now that I’ve been demoted from captain. But I’d still like to be able to play this weekend. So…any chance you’ve got more of that magic shit?”
My heart began to hammer. This was my chance. Maybe.
If I played my cards right, I could get him to take the serum Kayle had given me. I could tell him it was the same stuff that had healed his hands, just that it had to be ingested. I could give it to him right before the detention. He and I would be together all evening…with witnesses…
This could actually work.
Unless he had a lick of common sense, and would question why a hand cream suddenly had to be ingested.
But common sense did not appear to be Cole’s forte. At all.
“I don’t have any more of the cream,” I said, surprised by the steadiness of my voice. I’ve got the same stuff, just—you have to drink it.” I rushed on before he could think too hard about that. “I can get it to you tomorrow just before detention. It’ll help bring the swelling down and protect you tomorrow night during bleacher duty.”
My heart hammered. I was sure he’d be suspicious. Would accuse me of trying to poison him or something.
But he just said, “Okay, sweet.”
What the hell?
“Same spot as last time?” I was sure he must be able to hear my heart. Or see it pounding through my sweater, like I was a cartoon character.
“Yep. See you there. Thanks, TT.” And he took off.
I watched him go, unable to believe my luck. By tomorrow evening, I’d either have Cole’s public confession that he couldn’t get enough of me. Or the whole plan would have backfired, and I’d be even worse off than I was now.
Or, worse…nothing would happen, and I’d just be the same TT—punching bag to the bullies of Strathmore Reform. Caving again. And again. And again.
He actually showed up. On time.
I felt a little guilty. And a lot justified. And somewhere, deep down…maybe a little touched that he trusted me. Which of course made me feel guiltier.
But he took the vial and inspected it only for a moment before asking, “So I drink this, and it helps my hands?”
Not the brightest crayon in the box, are you, Cole?
I nodded. “It should work just as well as the cream.”
He knocked it back in one gulp. Kayle had told me this dose would last about two hours. Plenty of time for him to get real with me during detention. “Thanks, TT. See you at the track, I guess.”
I let him get a head start. Then I made my way out to the track.
Cole hadn’t been kidding. Rominsky had eight students in detention tonight. He equipped all of us with threadbare rags and bottles of that horrible polish. Then we set to work wiping bird shit off of every bleacher in the stands. I finagled it so I was working close to Cole. I don’t know what I was expecting: for him to get down on one knee and propose to me? To suddenly hoist a boombox onto his shoulder and blast a ballad while he declared his love? He acted mostly normal. In that he ignored me for several long moments, then finally sneered, “You following me, TT?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, asshole.”
“Oooh!” He laughed. “The claws are out tonight.” He wobbled slightly, swiping ineffectually at the bleacher seat. Was that the serum taking effect?
“Is it true you’re in detention because you refused to participate in the talent show?” I asked, keeping my focus on my scrubbing. I’d covered my hands in the actual protective ointment, so I barely felt the burn of the polish through the rag.
He laughed. “I’m here because Callahan is a wrinkly old bitch who hates my guts.”
“What’s the matter? You don’t have any talents?”
He looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “I have one or two. But I doubt Callahan would approve of me demonstrating them onstage.” He looked me up and down. “I could offer you a private demo, though.”
My heart sped up, though whether from the suspicion that Kayle’s potion was working, or because the suggestion sounded strangely, humiliatingly appealing, I couldn’t say.
“Oh yeah?” I forced myself to say it boldly. Even though my voice and body wanted to shake. Even though I couldn’t even let myself imagine Cole Heller demonstrating his “talents” on me. “I think you’re all talk.”
He laughed again, a genuinely delighted sound that made me realize that, if this guy wanted to, he could be a real charmer. Instead of a bigheaded douchebro swinging his dick around at every opportunity. “There you go again calling me a coward.”
I didn’t answer.
“You’re right, though,” he said.
I looked up. “I am?” Be cool, Amma.
He nodded. His eyes looked simultaneously hazy and overly bright. “If I had a set of balls, I’d have already done something about this.”
“What do you mean, ‘this?’” If he meant an attraction to me—and if he was about to say so—then what exactly did I plan to do? There were a couple of students nearby, but they weren’t paying attention to us. And even if I could get Cole to declare his undying love for me and sweep me up in a passionate kiss, probably all it would get me was another week’s worth of detention for fooling around when I was supposed to be scrubbing bleachers.
I understood with a sinking heart that this had been a stupid plan. Cole had already suggested that he wanted to sleep with me. But it came off as him having all the power. He said to make me feel like prey. Even if it was true—that he did want to sleep with me—that alone wouldn’t hurt his reputation. He could claim I was a pity-screw, or simply a conquest. It was only if his feelings ran deeper…
Which, of course they didn’t. That was stupid.
I was stupid.
He shrugged, scrubbing too aggressively. “Callahan,” he muttered.
Callahan?
He stumbled on the bleachers again. “Callahan won’t let me go see my brothers.”
Not at all what I was expecting.
“I raised them,” he went on. “I raised them because she wouldn’t.”
“Who? Callahan?” I was very confused.
“My mother,” he said dully. “And he would have killed them. And now I’m here at this fucking school—because of you, TT—and I can’t see them. I don’t know if they’re okay, living there with him. The youngest one, Sam, is sick. But I’m not allowed to go home, even for a few days.”
Was he serious? Cole Heller, this absolute nightmare of a human, was waging war with the school over wanting to visit his brothers? I assumed the “he” in this equation was Cole’s stepfather, Reed Lawrence. Who sounded like a real asshole. But then…like stepfather, like stepson, I supposed.
“It’s not my fault you’re here,” I said firmly.
But Cole didn’t even seem to be listening. “He told the school not to let me leave. I know he did. He sent them a check and told them to keep me locked up here.”
“If that’s true, then I’m sorry. But you don’t get to take it out on me.”
His eyes blazed. “If I had any fucking guts at all, I’d have walked out and gone home. But if I do that, my chances are shot. I can’t get a job that lets me support them. And Strathmore will make sure they can’t get good jobs either. Everything will be fucked.” He spread his arms slightly. “So here I am.”
He looked at me with eyes that shone with longing. But not longing for me. Longing to see the brothers he’d raised. Longing to be where he could protect them.
I was such a fool. And really, I’d known that about myself for a long time. But it particular
ly hurt now. I had nothing. No bargaining chip. No revenge. No…
What had I been hoping for?
I didn’t want to say it to myself.
“Here I am, TT,” he repeated.
Stop saying that. Unless you’re offering yourself to me, stop saying that.
I sighed and turned away. I had to face the facts.
The serum had loosened Cole’s tongue. It had strengthened his desire.
But that desire had nothing to do with me.
Chapter Fourteen
The first day of the talent show dawned gray and stormy. I made the mistake of taking my favorite shortcut along a narrow gravel path that was covered in puddles. I could feel the mud splashing up my khakis as I tried to dodge and jump. Overhead, the gray clouds seemed to press lower and lower.
The weather inside me wasn’t much better. I’d told Kayle about Cole’s revelations under the influence of the serum, and even sunny Kayle hadn’t had a positive spin to put on that. What I didn’t tell her was that Cole’s story had made me feel some sympathy for him. Even though I knew that was dangerous. That in the past, anything humanizing he told me about himself turned out to be a trap.
But I couldn’t forget his eyes as he’d spoken about wanting to see his brothers. I’d seen that same vulnerability and barely-hidden fear when he’d offered me his hands that day so I could apply the ointment.
When Cole Heller let his guard down, he wasn’t so frightening at all.
Bennett, on the other hand, seemed to have picked up the slack Cole had left as far as making my life miserable. Our first tutoring session had focused on calc, and I’d thought it was going well. I’d seen a lot of the material before, and Bennett had seemed surprise by my knowledge. At one point, I’d even had to correct him on an equation. That hadn’t gone over well. He’d been outright cruel to me for the rest of the session, humiliating me over the smallest mistakes. I’d had a small vial of the serum with me, and had eyed his coffee mug several times. But after my failure with Cole, I wasn’t in a hurry to try again. Maybe I needed to take my situation at face value: The boys had no feelings for me beyond contempt. Cole hated me for landing him in here and taking him away from his brothers. Bennett hated me because he had some weird love-hate relationship with Cole. Ian hated me because I wouldn’t share my voice with him—willingly.
