by Callie Rose
“Yeah. It is.” I raised my voice a notch, lifting my chin. “And unlike all of you, I paid my way here with my own damn money, so there’s not a single person you can turn against me to get me kicked out this time.”
Mason’s nostrils flared as he made a noise low in his throat. My gaze darted to his left and right, to Cole and Finn. Cole’s blue eyes were icy, and I’d forgotten how dangerous he looked when he was pissed—how his entire body seemed to grow, taking up more space than should be humanly possible. How hard his features were, how blank they could be.
Finn’s eyes were narrowed, the beautiful honey-brown of his irises partially obscured as he watched me like I might turn into a viper and strike at any moment. He’d gotten more tanned in the past few months, and I had a sudden vivid memory of him and Elijah arguing over who would take me to the best hidden coves and teach me how to surf over the summer.
I hadn’t been prepared for that memory, hadn’t been braced for how much it would hurt, and I yanked my gaze away from the blond football player, focusing back on Mason.
It was easiest to hate him.
“I’m not leaving.” I raised my voice again, speaking to all the gathered students as much as to the Princes themselves. The entire student body would probably be recruited to torture me again, so they might as well hear this too. “I’m not going anywhere. You spent all last semester reminding me I’m a Hildebrand, and you know what? You’re right. Even with all the shit that comes with it, I’m still my mom’s daughter. I’m still a Hildebrand. And I deserve to be here as much as any of you. So if you want me out, you’ll have to carry my body over the fucking threshold.”
I stopped then, my nerves singing, my skin tingling.
I’d practically dared them to attack me, to resort to physical violence if need be, but they had to know I wasn’t going to run away quietly into the night. That they couldn’t play me like they had last time.
For this round of the game, there would be no cruelty disguised as kindness; if they were going to be cruel, they’d have to own that shit.
My stomach clenched, and I was suddenly really glad I’d skipped breakfast. I felt sort of like I had the night of that party when I’d finally snapped and screamed at the four Princes. The night I’d called Mason a pussy and Finn a whore. It felt like I was playing with fire, passing my hand back and forth through a flame and waiting for the moment it burned me.
But I had one more thing to say, and I couldn’t stop until it was all out.
“You hate me?” I kept my voice even. “Fine. I hate you. And maybe you’ve got the whole school on your side, but it doesn’t matter. Everything you do to me, I’ll do right back to you. So be careful what kind of shit you start.”
Finn’s eyes had reversed course somewhere in the middle of my speech, widening instead of narrowing, and his eyebrows were raised almost to his hairline. He looked like he almost might’ve been a little impressed if he weren’t so fucking surprised, and I heard a breath behind me that I thought came from Elijah.
Mason, though?
He looked like he was seriously considering accepting my dare. Like he might grab me by the hair and try to drag me back over the threshold just to prove he could.
Fear hollowed my insides, but I let my outer facade hold me up, standing straight and tall as our gazes locked. We stood like that for several long moments, and when the bell rang, I turned on my heel and shoved past Elijah. None of the Princes made a move to stop me, although I was sure they probably could’ve if they chose to. I walked down the hall without seeing anything, barely aware of the whispers and stares that followed me. A strange combination of dread, relief, and pride filled me.
I had survived.
I had come face-to-face with the subjects of my nightmares, and I had survived.
For now.
The first several periods were a strange blur. It felt weird to sit in classes and listen to the teachers talk about expectations for the school year, syllabi, and grading systems, when all that really felt important was what the Princes would do about the gauntlet I’d thrown down.
A few of the younger, lower-tier kids called me names as I passed them in the hall, and some girl threw a bloody tampon at me in the bathroom, but none of the higher ranked students seemed to know quite what to do with me.
I had to assume it was because the Princes hadn’t decided what do to with me yet, which put their minions in a holding pattern. They’d only found out I was back yesterday, after all. I’d had a few more days than that to strategize, plan my attack, and fortify the wall around my heart.
At lunch, I almost took the coward’s way out and refused to step foot in Astor Hall. But I’d talked a big fucking talk in the morning, and I couldn’t back down now. So I grabbed a tray and stood in line, refusing to meet anyone’s eye. I ordered a pulled pork sandwich without even reading the menu, then marched to the first empty seat I found and sat in it.
Like a school of fish, all the students at the table turned to look at the Princes. But the four boys coolly ignored them—and me—talking amongst themselves as if they were unaware of anything else in the world.
The students at my table shifted in their seats for a moment, then a sophomore named Abby White stood abruptly, grabbed her tray, and walked to a different table. Her friend Moira followed her, and the rest of the students scurried to do the same. In a matter of minutes, I was sitting at the table by myself.
But the Princes hadn’t tried to kick me out. They hadn’t followed me from table to table demanding that I move.
Which meant they still hadn’t decided what to do with me.
Every bite I ate tasted like rubber and sat in my stomach like lead, but I forced myself to take my sweet-ass time with lunch. Leah, Maggie, and Dan all arrived late, and I saw Maggie and Dan whispering to Leah. But all three of them picked a table by the corner, on the other side of the room from me.
It’s fine. Maybe it’s better that way. The ceasefire with the Princes won’t last forever, and when it’s over, it’s gonna be fucking ugly.
A few minutes before the period was over, I picked up my tray and dumped the remainder of my food in the trash. As I swung my backpack over one shoulder, I swore I could feel the comforting weight of the little black book inside it. I’d bought a small flash drive when I got my new laptop and had wedged it between the pages of the book.
I would keep every dirty secret I found in that book—every recording, every picture. Every bit of evidence I could gather to use against the Princes would sit between those pages, and I’d make sure what I got was good enough to justify the risk I was taking.
I had American Literature after lunch, and Finn was in my class. I could feel his gaze on me, but every time I turned to look at him, he was staring straight forward. Gym was next, and I started working on Mr. Bowen right away, already desperate to return to my little haven on the second floor. Just like when I had asked the first time, he grunted under his breath and gave a half shrug, half nod.
“Yeah, sure. Just don’t make me regret it.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t. I promise.”
I couldn’t suppress my smile of relief, and even though I didn’t have my ballet shoes or any of my other gear, I went up to the room anyway and did a light workout, letting my body remember the movements it hadn’t done in too many weeks.
Seventh period was Calculus II, and although none of the Princes were in that class, Adena and Sable both were. A sneer tilted Adena’s lips as soon as she saw me. She hadn’t been in the hallway when I confronted the Princes, but I didn’t think it mattered. Adena hated me for her own personal reasons, and she didn’t listen to the Princes. They might not have decided what to do about my sudden reappearance yet, but she definitely had.
“Back for more, Idaho trash?” she hissed as she and Sable passed by my desk. “What, did you get sick of banging hillbillies? Thought you’d spread your chlamydia to everyone here too? Why didn’t you just stay the fuck out? Nobody wants you here!”<
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I lifted my gaze, letting a slow smile overtake my face. Mason was a fucking asshole, but he’d at least given me one thing I knew I could use against Adena. “You’re just mad because all the guys here think I’m hotter than you.”
Her perfectly tanned features paled a little, then she shook her head, her blonde hair catching the light. “No. They just think you’re sluttier than me.” She arched a brow. “And judging by that video, they’re obviously right.”
She and Sable swept past me, and I gripped my pencil hard, resisting the urge to stab her with it.
As soon as class was over, I grabbed my bag and joined the throng of students in the corridor, heading toward Johnson Hall, the building on the east side of the U.
When rough hands grabbed me and pulled me into a stairwell, my pulse jumped. The adrenaline that’d been pumping through my body all day spiked, and I lashed out blindly, prepared to fight my way out if need be. My backpack, which had been slung over one shoulder, fell to the ground with a dull thunk.
“Talia!” Elijah hissed.
Instead of stopping when I registered who it was, I just swung harder. He drew his head back, narrowly avoiding getting hit by my fist, then grabbed both my wrists and pressed me up against the wall.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice still a low whisper.
He looked agitated, upset, and there was a different tenor to his question than there had been when Mason had asked the same thing earlier. Mason’s question had seemed almost rhetorical, but Elijah seemed to be genuinely asking. Like he couldn’t believe I would do something so fucking stupid.
“You could’ve gone anywhere, Tal.”
His hazel eyes churned with emotion, and he shook his head, finally releasing his hold and stepping back. The skin of my wrists burned everywhere he had touched me, and I rubbed at them, trying to banish the sensation.
“Yeah, I could have,” I spat back. “But why would I give you guys the fucking satisfaction?”
I didn’t mention that a judge had basically ordered me to come back as a condition of the release of my trust. If I’d tried harder, maybe I could’ve gotten Erin to talk him out of that, or to change the terms of the arrangement. But I hadn’t tried. Because in the moment the judge had spoken, I’d already known what I was going to do.
“I’m not letting you win, Elijah.” He’d stepped back, but we were still too close, the space still way too confined. The one rule I’d set for myself was to keep my distance from the Princes, to not let myself be alone with any of them, and I was already breaking that rule. “My mom went to this school. She graduated from Oak Park. This is the last connection I have to her, and I’m gonna graduate from this place just like she did. I’m not letting four spoiled assholes stop me.”
“Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair, mussing up the perfectly styled brown strands. He looked away for a moment, and I could see the agitation buzzing through his body, making his entire frame practically vibrate. “That’s the fucking problem. Maybe you shouldn’t want to follow in your mom’s footsteps, Tal.” When he looked back at me, his hazel eyes were shuttered, his expression stark. “I’m serious. You should go. Nothing good will happen if you stay.”
My breath hitched.
Mason’s veiled threats this morning, as terrifying as they had been, hadn’t scared me as much as Elijah’s words did now.
Maybe it was because I couldn’t tell if Elijah was trying to threaten me at all. It almost seemed like he was trying to protect me.
I brushed that thought aside. That was the kind of thinking that’d gotten me fucked over in the first place—assuming any of the Princes actually cared about me, fabricating justifications for their actions, imagining a connection between us that didn’t exist. The plain facts spoke for themselves, and the fact was that all four of these guys had set out to systematically destroy me.
So if Elijah was telling me to run now, it was for his own benefit, not mine.
I pressed away from the wall, stepping toward him. His oak and sage scent was too familiar, too intoxicating, triggering some animal part of my brain that didn’t understand he was no longer a source of comfort. But I sucked in one quick breath before I spoke, our bodies so close I had to tilt my head to meet his gaze.
“Don’t worry. I’m not expecting anything good to happen. And I’m not. Fucking. Leaving. So you and your friends better watch the hell out.”
Not daring to take another breath, I snatched my backpack from the floor and hurried down the stairs without looking back.
Chapter 5
The Princes must’ve decided what to do about me overnight—I wonder what that fucking meeting was like—because by Wednesday morning, the whole school seemed to have gotten word that it was open season on me again. Not everyone jumped at the chance to torture me, but enough people did that traversing the halls of Oak Park felt like walking through a minefield.
When I was walking out of the locker room after gym, Ruby Bratton grabbed my ponytail just as Sable came at me with a pair of scissors. I yanked so hard against Ruby’s grip that it felt like half my hair came out in her hand, but I managed to avoid getting my ponytail chopped off. When Sable came at me a second time, I fought her for the scissors, and she ended up with a long, thin cut down her forearm.
“Oh my god, you fucking psycho!” she screamed as I brandished the scissors I’d stolen like a knife. “What is your problem? You’re insane!”
“Yeah?” I panted. “Then stop trying to cut my hair off.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, two red spots flaring high on her cheeks. Then she grabbed Ruby’s arm and spun on her heel, dragging the other girl out of the locker room.
The room was quiet as I deliberately stuck the scissors in my backpack. I was pretty sure none of them had expected me to fight back that hard.
Good. The Princes might’ve given everyone the green light to bully me, but they needed to know it wouldn’t be that easy this time around.
I kept the scissors in my backpack during Calculus II, and in my last class of the day, History, I chose the seat behind Cole. His blue gaze flicked up to watch me as I passed by, but I kept my focus trained straight ahead, ignoring the look he gave me. I’d had to hustle over from Craydon Hall, so there were only about two minutes left before class started—but Mr. Baldree wasn’t in the room yet.
My fingers shook with nerves as I pulled the scissors out of my backpack, my heart thrumming so hard in my chest I was sure the whole room could hear it. A smear of Sable’s blood still marred the top blade of the scissors, and for a second, the sight of it made my stomach turn.
This is fucked up. This is all so fucked up.
But I hadn’t started it.
I just wanted to end it.
And sometimes the only way out was through.
I moved before I could let myself think—before I could worry about the dozen different ways this could go wrong. I stood, leaning over the desk attached to my chair, and slid the scissors through the top of Cole’s silky black hair, as close to the scalp as I could manage. He jerked as soon as he felt the touch of cold metal, but I was already squeezing the handle, closing the sharp blades around his hair. There was a satisfying snick as the blades met, and pieces of dark hair rained down like snowflakes.
I’d gotten a good-sized chunk right off the top of his head.
Cole turned around in his seat, his hand already going to his head, and the look on his face was so full of wrath that for a second, all I could picture was him in the fight ring, fists flying with violent precision over and over and over.
I blinked, fear liquifying my veins, but I didn’t move. Several students around us had gasped when I cut his hair, and now the room was deadly silent.
“Idaho.” Cole’s voice was a deep rumble, heavy and dark. “What the fuck did you just do?”
Ignoring the trembling of my hands, I thunked the scissors down on the desk. Little pieces of his hair stuck to the streak of blood on the blade
. “I told you. Whatever you do to me, I’ll do to you. And since you four run this place, that means whatever anyone does to me, I’ll do to one of you.”
Mr. Baldree walked in, hesitating in the doorway as he noticed the unnaturally quiet room. His gaze scanned the rows of desks, trying to figure out the source of the tension. “What’s going on in here?”
No one spoke. Then Cole’s desk scraped loudly against the floor as he stood. The intensity of the glare he was leveling at me didn’t fade, and having him loom so tall above me only made my impulse to run even stronger.
But instead, I shook my head and murmured quietly, “It’s only hair, Cole. That’s nothing.”
He didn’t say a word, just turned and stalked toward the door. Mr. Baldree gave him an annoyed look that turned to confusion as he noticed the near-bald patch on top of Cole’s head. None of the kids in the classroom laughed as the dark-haired boy passed by, but it looked like a few wanted to, and a savage smile pulled at my lips. Cole’s blue-black hair looked like a reverse mohawk—for a guy who’d built his entire reputation on being intimidating and stoic, he did look fucking ridiculous.
I’d meant what I said to him. It was just fucking hair. If the girls in the locker room had managed to take off my ponytail, it wouldn’t even have made the top ten worst things that’d happened to me in my life. He’d grow his hair back in a few weeks, and it’d be like the cut had never happened.
But on some level, it was more than that.
It was a crack in his facade.
It was the lowering of a prince.
As Mr. Baldree lectured about the Industrial Revolution, I pursed my lips and blew softly, disturbing the straight black strands that had drifted down to land on my desk.
You fuck with me, I fuck with you.
The next morning, I saw the four Princes gathered near the entry of Craydon Hall, and my eyes shot to Cole’s head. He must’ve gone and shaved his hair after he’d stormed out of History class, buzzing it all over to match the short patch. Unfortunately, the new cut did nothing to mar his dangerously handsome looks—all it did was highlight his broad features and the clear ice-blue of his eyes—but judging by the angry glare he shot my way, he didn’t care about that.