Victoria’s eyes bulge like they’re going to explode.
Duke’s eyes go dim like he’s dying inside.
I want to tell him she’s not worth it, I am. But I can’t say that! I would never say that!
“Is that true?” Duke whispers, his eyes begging me to change my answer.
“She’s lying!” Victoria shrieks and charges toward me, her claws out.
Considering my face is already gouged up, I don’t need more gouges. I duck and dart to the side. Smash right into the other guy. Duke’s burgundy brother. This guy isn’t quite as tall as Duke, maybe an inch shorter, but he’s at least six feet tall and solid. A wall of muscle and abs I can feel through his burgundy jacket.
I look up into his smoky topaz eyes. Oh, wow. He’s fashion model material. His brown hair is a luxuriant umber and it’s screaming at me to run my hands through it. I would if he wasn’t grabbing my wrists. He exudes the exotic and mesmerizing scent of musk and myrrh and it’s making me giddy. In a seductive voice, he mutters, “Where do you think you’re going, little miss mugshot?”
I titter, “I was just—”
“Throw the lying bitch over, Chase!” Victoria rages. “I was not kissing Skill! Throw her!” She means the railing. “Toss her onto her head!”
What is wrong with her?! She’s acting like I’m lower than any animal, less than an ant, a mere microbe, and she’s the queen of all creation.
Mr. Mugshot grins at me with his smoky eyes. “Should I?”
“Throw me over?” I giggle, quickly forgetting my fears as I’m hypnotized by this boy’s beauty. No, he’s hardly a boy. He’s older than me by at least a year, if not two.
“Throw her, Chase!” Victoria demands. “It’s the least she deserves for lying about me! I would never cheat on Duke!”
“She’s just a gutter slut, Chase,” Jacqueline adds. “Nobody’ll care.”
Clearly, Mr. Mugshot with the smoky topaz eyes holding me is named Chase.
“I’ll care,” Chase says, eyes locked on mine. “I haven’t had my fun with her yet.”
“What?!” I snort.
“You heard me,” his low voice a steamy secret suggesting dark places and wet hot throbbing.
“You did not just…” I can’t even finish my sentence because I almost like the sound of whatever it is he’s suggesting, which is absurd because he’s toying with my life like I’m the devil’s plaything, meaning him. Ohmygod! What is he doing to me?!
“Not yet,” he winks. “Later. When you clean my suite.”
I crinkle my nose and snort a dismissive laugh, “I’m not cleaning your anything. You can chase your own tail for all I care.”
“Knock it the fuck off, Chase,” Duke barks and rips me out of Chase’s arms, spinning me around like a rag doll. “What happened, peon?”
“Don’t call me that,” I sneer.
Duke’s dark eyes bore into mine, “Tell the truth, peon, or I’ll tell Ms. Skelter you attacked Victoria and Jacqueline.”
“She did,” Jackess says, examining her nails. “See? She broke one of my nails.”
“I didn’t break your nails!” I say.
“Yeah you did. You broke this one.” She flips me off with a perfectly French-manicured fingernail.
“It’s not even broken!” I groan.
“I hope you like jail, gutter slut,” Victoria hisses viciously.
My heart starts to pound. I have no doubt these four Fundies won’t hesitate to have me kicked out. I’m already on thin ice with Ms. Skelter as it is. Azzie did say the student handbook says we can’t upstage, or should I say upstep, or should I say upset the fragile little Fundies. Whatever the rules, the last thing I want is to crack through Ms. Skelter’s thin ice and fall into the frigid depths of prison where I’ll drown in a cold ocean of human ruin.
“What happened, peon?” Duke demands.
I know what he wants to hear and I spill my guts like a spineless coward. In general, I try not to lie, but my life in foster care has taught me that lies are often necessary for survival. Now they come rolling out. “I was kissing Red.”
“No she wasn’t,” Jacqueline snorts. “He’d never kiss this bitch.”
Duke and Chase glare at her.
I say hastily, “I mean Skill. Whatever his name is. The guy with the scarlet red hair. We were kissing. These two weren’t.” I toss the lie to Victoria like a life preserver.
“See?” she sneers at me. “Once a gutter slut, always a gutter slut. She’ll kiss anything with a dick.”
Amused, I snort, “I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”
“I would,” Victoria insists. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You slept with one of your teachers, didn’t you? Back at that trashy public school you went to before here.”
“No I didn’t.” Thought about it. Mr. Vaughn at the last school I was at before Roosevelt was a Marine for eight years before he got into teaching. As hunky hot as he was, I never actually did anything with him outside of my journal. He was way too old. Like thirty or something. Still, he’s a total DILF.
“She didn’t,” Jacqueline says, which surprises everyone. “She said she did. He went to jail because of her. Statutory rape.”
Victoria looks happy that Jackess upgraded her lie for her. Nothing ever happened to Mr. Vaughn that I know of.
“That’s a lie!” I laugh. “You guys have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“It’s public record,” Jacqueline sneers.
“How would you know?! You don’t even know my name!” I protest.
“It’s in the student directory. I Googled it, bitch. She also stole a motorcycle from her foster parents and deals drugs.”
I don’t know what to say. The part about the motorcycle is all true, and the drugs is vaguely true. However you slice it, Jacqueline had to’ve at least Googled me to know that, if not dug a little deeper. She’s a lot smarter than I gave her credit for, which is not good. Dumb enemies I can deal with. Smart ones are dangerous. Considering Joan told me they only have AP classes here at Castle Hill, I shouldn’t be surprised.
Duke has his arm around Victoria. She leans into him and glares at me, silently mouthing something at me that I can’t quite figure out, but it clearly contains several F-bombs. She should be thanking me. If it wasn’t for me, her boyfriend would know she’s literally a two-timing slut. Slut because it clearly wasn’t in the contract she signed with Duke. The part about the contract is a joke. Obviously, the part about her staying faithful to Duke isn’t. To him, anyway. To her it obviously is.
Chase is standing alone. For some reason, I expect Jacqueline to be nuzzling up against him. She’s not. But she’s looking at him like she wishes she was. I can’t blame her. He might be the finest Fundy I’ve seen so far.
“What’re you looking at, Chemo?” Jacqueline smirks when she catches me looking.
Chase chuckles to himself. Total ass.
“Chemo?” I scoff. “They made me shave my hair! I don’t have cancer!”
“Nobody better fuck her,” Jacqueline warns, flicking a glance at Chase. “Chemo got cervical cancer from HPV. From fucking that teacher.”
“None of that’s true!” I bark because I realize everyone is staring at me like, well, like I’m diseased. “I don’t have HPV! Or cancer! Ms. Skelter made me shave my mohawk!”
Mutters of doubt from the crowd.
“She’s lying!” Why am I defending my hairstyle? Because it’s easy to tell yourself you don’t care what other people think when you’re always running away. When you’re forced to stay and look them in the eye, you realize what they think not only matters, it shapes your life in ways you can’t control. “I’ve never had HPV!”
The Fundies start to turn their backs on me.
Victoria says, “Go back where you belong and take your HPV with you, gutter slut.”
“Go, Chemo,” Jacqueline says.
“Screw you!” I’m so mad it takes everything I have to hold back the tears. I’ve
had kids at other schools do some pretty mean things, but nothing like this. A few scratches on my face from Emily Calhoun I can deal with. Having my reputation destroyed in a matter of seconds in front of half the academy? I’m about to make my case when Chase and Duke both approach me.
They take me by the arms, one on each side. For a second, I think they’re saving me, protecting me from the insane web of lies tightening around my throat like a silken noose. I want nothing more than to collapse into the safety of their loving arms.
“Get off the terrace,” Duke says quietly. “Stand with the rest of the peons.” He gives me a gentle shove.
I give Chase a pleading look.
He smirks, “Get going, ant. Down to the bottom with the other insects.”
My eyes say, “Are you serious?” but my mouth says nothing.
“Go,” he grumbles.
Heartbroken, I stumble down the steps.
“Chemo!” the other Fundies laugh, the girls and boys. “Gutter Slut! HPV! Cancer cunt!”
“I don’t have HPV!” Now I’m begging for them to believe me. Nothing like having a couple hundred kids hating you with everything they have to break you down to nothing within minutes.
“Sure you don’t, cancer cunt,” some random Fundy girl sneers and kicks me in the shin.
“Ow!” The pain is intense and I stumble down the steps, dropping my book bag as I fall and tumble to the bottom, nearly smacking my face into the bricks as I land on my hands.
More laughter.
It hits harder then I would’ve thought possible, tearing away at my heart and peeling back my skin even though it shouldn’t. I’m tougher than this. Somehow, it just does. Their words are acid and lashing whips, their laughter salt in my wounds. How is any of this happening?! I look around briefly with watery eyes, sensing their cackles attacking me like a physical thing, biting me with monstrous teeth, like they’re all orcs and goblins underneath their finery. No surprise there. Who knew that laughter was the cruelest weapon of all?
I grab my book bag and ready myself to run.
Someone kneels beside me. Gentle hands steady me and help me to my feet.
I look into the eyes of Azzie.
“I told you not to go up there,” she whispers apologetically.
“Let go of me!” I’m convinced she really is Eliza-bitch, and she’s not apologizing. She’s gloating. Somehow she planned all this in advance. Brought me here to set me up for a literal fall. “You’re one of them!” I shove her away and run.
Who says you can’t run away from your problems?
“Them?”
You know what?
“They” can suck it.
As long as you still have working legs, running is always an option.
Chapter 15
Tears blur my vision as I turn randomly, running across the campus. At some point, the church bell rings, signaling the start of class. Guess I’m ditching out on drama. The class, not mine. Like I care. I just want out of here.
The fancy buildings give way to tennis courts, a huge pool with mammoth bleachers, a red rubber track and green field with stadium seating, more sporting fields, an equestrian center, what is probably an indoor sporting arena for basketball and stuff like that, and past all that, some big modern industrial looking buildings with a bunch of trucks and vans parked outside. The spotless trucks and vans have Castle Hill Academy logos on the doors and the words Plant Services stenciled underneath.
A couple guys wearing navy coveralls and work boots are walking in the big open doors. They say something to a huge guy in coveralls walking out and share a laugh without stopping.
The big guy sees me running and calls out, “Where are you going?!”
I ignore him and jog past the big building.
“Hey! Come back! You can’t leave!” The big guy is shouting and jogging after me.
He’s wrong. I am leaving and never coming back. I’ll live in the woods like a lone wolf if I have to, but I’m never going back to Castle Hill. It doesn’t take long for me to reach the end of the paved road I’m running on. I’m stopped by a gate and a wire fence. Signs on the fence and gate say WARNING! HIGH VOLTAGE.
Is this an electric fence?
I don’t care. I’m about to grab the gate and climb over when rough hands stop me.
“Don’t! You’ll fry yourself!” the big guy says behind me.
“Let go of me!” I try to jump onto the gate, but he stops me, grabbing the back of my academy jacket.
“There’s enough current in that gate to fry a grizzly. You’ll kill yourself.” There’s real compassion in his voice.
“I don’t care!” I scream and reach for the gate, clawing the empty air.
He picks me up under my arms with my feet dangling in the air like I’m weightless and walks me back up the road.
“Put me down!” I growl, trying to pry his fingers off. They’re like steel. “I’ll bite you!” I crane my neck down, trying to reach them, but they’re too low. I bite the air anyway.
He chuckles, “I’m just trying to help. You would’ve fried yourself.” He sets me down and turns me around.
I look up into the eyes of Giant. He’s Alpha and Red’s friend from the other night. Or should I say Rob and Skill? I’m immediately aware of Giant’s friendly lemon and lavender scent. It’s calming.
Giant looks me over and frowns, “Hey. You’re that kid from—” he stops himself short. “I didn’t recognize you without the mohawk. Rob said…” He reaches into the pocket of his coveralls. “He told me to give you this if I saw you.” It’s a Castle Hill Academy navy-and-burgundy knit beanie.
I stare at it in confusion, “Rob told you?”
“Yup.”
“But he didn’t see me get my hair cut.”
Giant grins, “He knows Ms. Skelter and the school rules. No pink mohawks or anything edgey. He said it was inevitable they’d make you hack yours off,” he chuckles. “Here, take it.” He proffers the beanie.
I do, holding it forgotten at my side.
“Me,” Giant chuckles, “I don’t think you need it.” He gives me a wink. “You’re Mary, right?”
“Yeah,” I sigh.
“Name’s Jonah. Jonah Biggs.”
I look up into his genuine emerald eyes. They project a friendly energy. Right now, it’s like oxygen and I can’t get enough. His hair is dusty blond and cut somewhat short but long enough to part and sweep slightly to the side like he puts a little product in it. It’s a good look.
Concern tightens his brows. “Something happen? You look like you were crying.”
“No,” I sniff and wipe my nose, looking away.
“Course not. Girl like you never cries.” His eyes are laughing, but in a good way.
“Shut up,” I giggle and swat his chest, which is like slabs of concrete sidewalk attached to a man. Jonah is the largest person I’ve ever stood in front of. It would be freaking scary if he wasn’t so… nice. I realize he’s the epitome of a Gentle Giant, which is exactly what I need right now. He didn’t seem so nice the other night when he and Wicked Eyes were making bets about Red winning that fight against the cannibals or not. “Hey, is your other friend here too? The one with the buzz cut?”
“You mean Tucker? Yeah, he’s here. Probably in the kitchen prepping dinner for the Fundies.”
“Wait, so all four of you work here?”
“Yup.”
“Where do you work?”
“Plant services.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder at the big modern building with all the pipes.
“Do you go to school too?”
He nods.
“You guys are in high school?” I gasp. They don’t look nearly young enough.
He shakes his head, “College.”
“All four of you?”
He nods, “At the rate we’re going, we’ll each have enough credits for a four year degree by the time we finish our sentences.”
“Sentences?”
“We’re here same a
s you. Work-study. We weren’t exactly well behaved little boys out in the big bad world before we landed here.”
“I’ll say,” I snicker, thinking about what I saw them doing the other night. “Wait, how are you guys allowed to leave—”
“Careful, kid,” he cuts in, emerald eyes flickering intensely.
“Oh, sorry, I was…” I was going to ask him how they’re allowed out to freaking steal a million dollars from those rabid cannibals, but he probably doesn’t want me talking about that. Duh. Rob said they have cameras everywhere. They might have microphones too. “So, um, yeah. I was going to say, you and your friends are, um, allowed to work here in the work-study program like me?”
His intensity melts into a big grin, “Took the words outta my mouth, kid.” He takes the beanie from my hand and tugs it onto my head.
I smirk, “I thought you said I don’t need it.”
“You don’t,” he winks. “But the rich kids here are dicks. I wouldn’t want them hassling you any more than they have already.” His eyes darken to a dim forest green. “That’s why you were crying, right? Some Fundy pricks giving you a hard time about your hair? Fucking dicks.”
“Something like that.” I don’t want to go into it.
He lifts my chin with a huge thumb. “These scrapes make you look badass, Mary. No wonder Skill called you War Paint.”
After the way Skill, aka Red, treated me outside the drama building, I don’t give a crap what he thinks or says or does. He’s dead to me. But Jonah can call me War Paint and I won’t mind. I giggle a bit more bashfully than I’d like and break eye contact before I do something dumb. Jonah has a sneaky charm I can’t deny and probably can’t resist if he pushes it.
“You have class now, right?”
I nod. “Drama.”
“With Mr. Klein?”
“Erm, I guess.”
“If it’s drama, it’s Klein.”
“If you say so. Don’t you have class too?”
“Later. College classes are on a random schedule. They’re not every day either.”
“That’s rad.”
He smirks, “Until you have a class till ten o’clock at night one night, then another first thing in the morning the next day. Then it blows. We better get you back before Mr. Klein marks you absent. Wouldn’t want that on day one.”
Rich Boys vs. Poor Boys (The Cruel Kings of Castle Hill Academy, Book 1) by Devon Hartford kd103 Page 12
