Bury Me (Willow Heights Prep Academy: The Elite Book 3)

by Selena

  eleven

  Crystal

  Our love is impossible. It’s impossible that I could love a boy who’s done the things Devlin has done to me. It’s impossible that he could love a girl who hurt him in the callous way I did. Somehow, though, we’ve found a way. And if we can find a way to love each other, to forgive each other, despite those things, shouldn’t our families be able to do the same? How can they hate each other more than we’ve hated each other? Could our love bring them together? Or will it splinter them from within?

  “Where’s that from?” Royal demands on Monday when I open my locker before school. A cookies-and-cream cappuccino sits in the front, a variation on the drink that’s been here every day since I came back. I already knew it was Devlin, even when he pretended to hate me. But now I know for sure. This is the drink I told him was the perfect blend of sugar, caffeine, and chocolate.

  “Uh, Dixie got it for me,” I lie.

  Because how can I tell him otherwise? How can I tell him that I love the boy he blames for hurting him? That on Friday night, while he slept in the next room, plagued by nightmares, his sweet little sister let a boy into her room, into her body. And I didn’t just let Devlin put his dick in me. I wanted it. I put it in and rode it hard and didn’t let him stop until he came so deep inside me that it hurt. I didn’t think about my family, or how it would reflect on the Dolces, or if it fit the image of a Dolce daughter. I didn’t give Royal a single thought. I took something just for me, and I loved every second of it.

  How can I tell my brother that his twin is that kind of monster?

  “Ooh, coffee,” Dixie says, tromping up to join us in her goth boots and black outfit. “What’d you get?”

  Fuck.

  Royal’s eyes narrow. “Dixie got you that?” he growls at me.

  “I did?” Dixie asks, totally missing the frantic eye movements I’m making as I try to convey that she needs to go along with this, all smooth like Dolly would. But Dixie isn’t practiced in the art of artifice.

  Royal snatches the coffee from my hand, his face darkening with anger. “Why the fuck is someone getting you coffee?” he asks, his dark eyes boring into mine.

  “I don’t know,” I say, my heart hammering and my mind racing. I don’t know how to talk Royal down anymore, not like I used to. He’s a stranger now, the brother I no longer know, separated from me by a week missing and a million moments I’ll never experience with him.

  “Who’s leaving these in your locker, Crystal,” he asks, his voice low and cold.

  I shake my head. “No one’s said anything about them.”

  “Who?” he demands, stopping in the middle of the hall, letting the crowd flow around us.

  Dixie hangs back, her eyes wide as she chews at her lip with a guilty look on her face now that she’s caught on. I shake my head at her, not wanting her to witness whatever’s about to happen. Royal is seriously unhinged right now, and I finally understand the need my family has to keep it together, to keep up appearances. Because the thought of him blowing apart in the middle of the hall is humiliating, and I have this irresistible compulsion to calm him before Dixie or anyone else sees.

  Dixie mouths an apology at me and scurries off, leaving me to face my twin alone. It shouldn’t be hard. I’ve fought with my brothers a million times. But this Royal, Royal 2.0, isn’t a boy I know how to fight.

  He shakes the cup at me, looming over me with anger pulsing in his temple. “You said you weren’t seeing him anymore.”

  I don’t want to lie to him, but the truth will hurt him too much. There’s nothing I can do that won’t hurt him more, and I’ve already done enough. So I don’t say anything. My hands begin to shake. My palms are clammy, my nerves are frayed, and anxiety crawls along the inside of my skin like a disease. I try to breathe, but Royal’s the boy who could always bring me back from the edge of panic, the boy who tethered me to reality. But he’s not that boy anymore. The rope has been severed, setting me adrift.

  “Answer me,” Royal barks.

  I shake my head, tears threatening behind my eyes. “Royal, don’t.”

  People begin to slow, to linger, to watch a situation that shows signs of combustibility.

  “Every fucking day one of these has been in your locker,” he says, his voice rising with anger. “It’s been him all along?”

  “Royal,” I hiss. “You’re making a scene.”

  “Do you think I give a fuck?” he growls, his fist clenching around the coffee. The plastic lid pops off, and the cardboard crumples in his grip. Brown coffee splatters onto his arm and the floor, leaving blobs of whipped cream dribbling over his knuckles. “You’ve been fucking him all along, haven’t you? Is this your payment? I’m gone for a week and you turn into a cheap whore who spreads her legs for a cup of coffee?”

  My eyes sting with the pain of his words, but my throat closes, and I can’t speak. Royal is supposed to be my brother, my best friend, my better half.

  Before I can force out a word, he slams the cup into my chest, his palm flattening it against me. I stumble backward at the impact, the remainder of the coffee leaking down my front, soaking into my shirt. Strong arms catch me from behind at the same moment that Devlin pushes through the crowd behind Royal.

  “Did you just hit her?” he asks, his voice low and deadly.

  “Aww, shit,” Colt says behind me. “Ain’t it too early for brawling?”

  It’s never too early for my brothers. I lurch forward, out of Colt’s arms, as Royal turns to Devlin, his fists already up.

  “He has a concussion,” I scream at Devlin, who looks like he’s ready to commit murder. “Don’t hit him!”

  Devlin’s eyes dart from me to my brother. Royal uses that moment to swing. He’s not quick enough, though, and Devlin dances back, out of the way.

  “Stop,” I scream at Royal, jumping onto his back. I don’t know what else to do. He’s always fought like he had a death wish, but this time is different. He’s already injured. I don’t know what would happen if Devlin hit him in the head. Royal swings at Devlin again, and this time, Devlin isn’t ready, probably thinking Royal will stop now that I’ve attached myself like a barnacle to his back. Royal’s fist slams into Devlin’s face, and he stumbles back against the lockers, cursing and spitting blood.

  “You want to touch my sister again?” Royal asks, barreling forward. “Try it, asshole. See where you end up.”

  “Don’t you dare hit him,” I say over his shoulder to Devlin, who still has his hands up but isn’t swinging. His eyes blaze with fury, but I can’t tell if he’s pissed at me or at my brother. When Royal swings again, he sidesteps him, and Royal’s fist glances off the locker. It catches on the metal edge, and he swears as blood runs down his fist.

  “Stop,” I order, trying to wrestle Royal’s hands down.

  But he’s not done. He grabs my hands and wrenches them apart, swinging my arm over his head and twisting sideways, dislodging me from his back and spinning me away. He lets my hands loose too late, when the full momentum of his turn is still with me. I go reeling sideways and hit the floor on my ass, about as ungraceful as a fall can be.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, treating Crystal that way?” Devlin asks, grabbing my hands and pulling me to my feet, wrapping his arms around me.

  “Now you wanna tell me how to treat my sister?” Royal thunders, lunging at us.

  Devlin pushes me behind him, backing away from Royal with me pressed up tight to his back. “Whatever you got going on in your family, keep that shit at home,” Devlin says. “It doesn’t belong in the halls of this school.”

  “You have about two seconds to get your hands off my sister,” Royal snarls.

  I know I have to get them apart before this escalates. At the same time, I’m terrified Devlin is going to run his dirty mouth about where his hands have already been, which might be hot when we’re hooking up, but I don’t really want him saying those things to my family—especially not in front of a bunch of r
andom people in the hall.

  “Devlin, it’s fine,” I say. “Just go. I’ll deal with it.”

  “You sure?” he asks, his voice so quiet only I can hear in the buzz of excitement in the hall.

  “Yes, go,” I say, ducking around him and putting both hands on Royal’s chest, shoving him backwards.

  “Run away like the pussy you are,” Royal yells over my head at Devlin, who must be leaving. I don’t look. I’m too busy trying to keep Royal from losing his shit again. “You don’t deserve my sister. You better hope I never see you speak to her again!”

  “Royal,” I hiss under my breath. “Chill the fuck out.”

  “Get your hands off me,” he says, jerking away from me. “Keep fucking him and see what happens, Crystal. I dare you.”

  After a second of staring at each other, both of us breathing hard, Royal turns and shoves past the other students. And I notice something different. They cringe back from him now. It’s not the way they look at the Darlings, with awe and respect and a little dose of fear thrown in for good measure. This is straight up scared, as if they don’t know what he’ll do next, who he’ll explode on. I don’t blame them.

  It’s a different respect from what they show the Darling cousins. They’re scared of Royal, and not in the uneasy way they were when Colt was on the move with a dog collar in hand, searching for a target. I duck my head and hurry to the restroom to clean up, grateful that I’m wearing black today so the coffee stain can be washed out easily.

  When I walk into my next class and take my seat next to Colt, people whisper, but it’s different. They look curious and excited rather than disgusted by the school slut.

  “What’s going on?” I whisper to Colt, ducking my head and turning it his way so no one else will hear us.

  “Everyone’s trying to figure you out, Crystal Sweet,” he says with a grin. “You caused quite a stir this morning.”

  “I wasn’t the one fighting.”

  “You kinda were,” he says. “And even if you hadn’t been there, everybody in this school knows you were the cause of that fight. They can’t figure out what you are, where you fit.”

  “Probably doesn’t help that you took the Dog label off me.”

  “Nope,” he says with a grin. “Took us a while to figure you out, too. Now I’m just having fun watching you drive them all crazy while they try to guess where you’ll land.”

  I cross my arms and smirk at him. “So, you’ve figured me out?”

  “I know where you belong,” he says, leaning forward on his desk so he’s looking up at me with that adorable grin.

  “Where’s that?” I ask, arching a brow.

  “With us, baby,” he says. “You belong with us.”

  “That’ll never happen,” I say, trying to picture a scene where I sit with the Darlings instead of my brothers.

  “Oh, it’ll happen,” Colt says. “Trust me, Crystal Sweet. When my cousin wants something, he gets it. And he wants you.”

  I shake my head and turn my attention to the teacher. But my mind returns to his words.

  If Devlin and I love each other, if he really meant all those things he said to me on Friday night…

  Maybe we could make it happen. Maybe we can bring our families together. Maybe we can all share the spotlight, the throne. My brothers can have the popularity and power they want, and the Darlings won’t have to give up their place. And Devlin and I will be in the middle.

  Then I think of how angry and broken Royal is. Could I convince him to join the Darlings without him thinking I’m a traitor? After all we’ve done to each other, if I can forgive Devlin, does that make me a horrible person, or a bigger person? And if I could convince my family, could Devlin convince his?

  The Darlings have something going at this school. They’ve achieved a delicate balance, something different from what my brothers had in New York. My brothers were popular, but the Darlings are more than popular. They’re untouchable. And for the most part, they’re benevolent kings, despite what I’ve experienced. I have to remember that I was the only person facing that kind of abuse. They made an example of me. And like Dixie said, they did worse to me because I didn’t just accept it like she did. I didn’t understand it. She’s always known it was more than being a target. She’s known it holds its own strange prestige.

  People know that the Darlings might bestow favor upon them—and they’re here for it. The cousins might pull a nobody into their circle of exclusivity, elevate them to their dream for no other reason than that they can. They might give a girl a necklace and tell her she’s worthy. They might tell a guy he’s good enough to join their prestigious secret society and learn their secrets. They might invite someone like Dixie, who’s heard of their legendary parties and dreamed of them for so long, to come along.

  Or they might not.

  Most people at this school adore the Darlings. They admire them. They want to land a Darling boy as a point of pride, or because they know they could be set through the whole of high school if they get a necklace. And yes, there’s a little sliver of fear—just enough to make them remember that although they might join the Darlings for a night or a month of debauchery, they are never their equals. With one word, the Darlings can take it all away, like they did to Lacey. They revel in their favor, glory in it, because they know it might not last.

  I can’t help but think how hard they must have worked for that. And here we came waltzing in like a bunch of entitled punks, thinking we’d grab the respect and adoration and fear of the entire school for no other reason than we wanted it. No wonder the Darlings fucking hate us. This isn’t just some throne their grandfather put them on when they were in diapers. It’s a carefully crafted empire, one they built together and maintain every day with artful care and attention.

  Sure, a name means a lot. But Dolly has a name in this town. Even Dixie is related to the mayor. Lacey has a name and look what happened to her. A name isn’t enough. The Darling cousins did this. Their name doesn’t hurt, and their fathers’ and grandfathers’ reputations in the town doesn’t hurt. But these boys, they’ve done something special here, something unique, something even my brothers didn’t have in New York. My brothers were football gods, party boys, fuck boys. This is more than popularity. It’s worship.

  Besides my brothers—before them—the Darlings had no enemies. No one challenged their rule, no one defied them. And it’s not because people fear them. Mostly, it’s the opposite.

  So yeah, they’ve fought my brothers, but they have every right to defend their place at this school, one they’ve held for as long as they’ve been here. They’ve created an environment, and atmosphere, that benefits them. Why would they give that up?

  It’s not all good, and I don’t agree with all of it. In some sick way, I have to admire the genius of it. There’s a reason the Darlings have a whole table full of Dolls and only one Dog. Girls want to be their Dolls. Guys want to be their friends. Everyone wants to be absorbed into their orbit. But there’s a limited number of spots at their table, and at the next one, and the next. That makes it even more special when a girl is chosen, honored, brought to their table and told she’s something special. It makes every girl want it, and more, it makes her think she might attain it.

  But the Dog, she’s the reminder of what could happen. She’s the whipping boy. The hint of danger, the dark side of the Darlings that hides in ancient caverns under the library, the threat that it’s not all revelry and merriment. The reminder that if they get out of line, if they go too far, the Darlings only have to order it, and they could be the next one on a leash.

  This system governs the halls of Willow Heights far more than money or names, more than the staff and administration. The Dolces came along, thinking we’d topple this thing that’s as organized as the mob, a tiny little gang with a hierarchy and unspoken rules we didn’t even bother trying to learn. So yeah, we deserved to be put in our place.

  But now… Now I have a chance to do something about it. To
sway things. And I won’t waste that opportunity, even if my brothers are too arrogant and proud to see it. I swore I’d get rid of the Darling Dog, and now I’m in a position to do it. I finally have influence, though it’s the furthest thing from the way I’d envisioned it happening. I don’t have influence with the other students, but I have influence with Devlin. And he makes the rules.

  I didn’t take down the Darlings. But maybe I was never meant to destroy them. I can get more done from within than I ever could from the outside. Now I just have to convince my brothers that they can slide into the best spots on the game board, not as competitors, but as a team. If someone had told me a month ago that my brothers would be the ones I was most worried about convincing, I would have laughed. But here I am, more caught between our families than I’ve ever been. I just need to find the way out.

  twelve

  Crystal

  Finally, I understand. Colt was wrong about us being Romeo and Juliet. But he was right about one thing. My place is with them. My family’s place is with theirs. Somehow, I’ll convince them. I’ll convince them that even though they hate the Darlings, that they aren’t the enemy. If the Capulets and Montagues had known how it would end, would they have done things differently? Or sacrificed their children for their pride?

  I stop at the door to the gym, my heart racing in my chest. Inside, I can hear a single basketball bouncing against the hardwood. I swallow hard, trying not to lose my lunch. It’s the end of the day, and I can hear the football team on the field behind the huge building, the whistles and grunts and thuds. I squeeze my eyes closed and try to push away the memories of the last time Coach Snow called me here.

  I shove open the door and step inside, blinking in the dim interior, my eyes trying to adjust after the bright, November sun outside. When I blink my vision clear, I wish I hadn’t. A blond boy with a cast on one arm stands across the gym, slowly dribbling the ball with his good hand.