Outcast: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Montlake Prep Book 2)

by Nora Cobb

  Jacob looks sheepish for the first time. Shrugging his shoulders, he replies, “We all fucked up from the beginning, and maybe we owe it to Natalie.”

  Lucas sits back down as if Jacob’s comment has knocked him over on his ass. He’s still reluctant, but he’s thinking it over. Lucas shakes his head quickly, as if he’s trying to loosen the thought out of his head. He looks at me longingly, pressing his lips together, and I remember what he said about how I broke that spell. Because I was different. Well, this is very different.

  Looking at him, I whisper, “Maybe this is what we need? Shake things up a little?”

  “I have to think about it.” Lucas tosses his protein bar into his backpack. “But nothing happens while he’s around.” Lucas points at Anthony, who’s too happy to take offense at any jabs.

  Together, we leave the courtyard and head toward North Hall for class. My phone chimes in my pocket at the same time that my tablet vibrates. The messages are marked urgent. I’m wanted in Principal Cromwell’s office.

  CHAPTER 24

  Natalie

  It’s been a while since I’ve been summoned to the east building, which houses freshmen and the administration. Thoughts fly into my head and collide as I try to figure out what it is this time.

  Last week, a general assembly was held for each class, and attendance was mandatory. I sat in the second row with Lucas and Jacob, while Troy and Arielle sat in the first with Lexi and Cora. Mancuso had moved up permanently to the second row, and he kept eyeing Cora, making a play for a better position. Seconds before the assembly started, I was surprised when Beth came in and sat in the last seat at the end of the first row. No one told her to move.

  Principal Cromwell walked down the center aisle of the auditorium flanked by Ms. Schneider and two of his vice principals. It was so lame. He strutted onto the stage with his entourage as if the paparazzi should take his picture. Then Cromwell proceeded to yell at us for twenty minutes straight over the damage to the athletic fields.

  Someone made doughnuts in the turf, and it would cost twenty-five thousand dollars to replace the damaged fields. Cromwell’s entire head turned beet red, and he started to drip sweat as he swore he’d find the guilty party. He demanded a name, and no one spoke, but as Cromwell was leaving in a huff, Mancuso coughed “Loser” into the bend of his elbow. He got three days of detention, but it made Cora giggle. Happily, Mancuso accepted the punishment and left the auditorium walking with a flirty Cora.

  Well, I didn’t tear up the field, but obviously, there are other problems. I wonder if Cromwell has finally seen the selfies. Uncle Phil chose not to talk to Cromwell in person. On a conference call from LA, he called the school instead because he thought Cromwell was a time-wasting bureaucrat. I wonder why? Details were not discussed with Cromwell; he was told what Uncle Phil thought he needed to know.

  Right now, whatever it is, it must be bad because none of the ladies in the office make eye contact with me as I walk into the outer office. I didn’t mess up the fields, but bravo to whoever did. It’s probably some other downtrodden rebel who hates this place and was pushed too far. Waiting to be acknowledged, I stand at the counter. Ms. Schneider just points to Cromwell’s shut office door, and walks away.

  Good manners die hard even when I’m upset, so I knock first. The office is the same as my last visit—a million leather-bound books for show, dark furniture, dusty drapes, and stuffy air. Everything is the same except a crying Arielle is sitting in a bulky leather chair in front of Cromwell’s desk. Tears are trailing softly down her pink cheeks as she presses a wrinkled tissue to her nose. It’s so phony that I want to snatch it away. Then my gaze lands on her knee-length khaki skirt. That’s not right. It’s three times the length of my sassy plaid one. On any other day, Arielle’s skirts are so short that her shirt pokes out from underneath the hem. I try not to roll my eyes to heaven.

  What is it now?

  Cromwell motions to the leather chair beside her, and I sit down slowly, like the cushion is red- hot and I have on shorts. The man glares at me until his eyes protrude from his head. He might actually strain a muscle in his neck, but he remains silent while Arielle sniffles. I guess it’s up to me to get the conversation started. I just want to get this drama over with and graduate.

  “Why am I here?” My cold tone conveys my attitude brilliantly.

  Cromwell leans back in his chair, causing it to recline slightly. For a moment, he looks off into space as if he’s gathering his strength to think. Placing his fingertips on his desk as if he’s playing piano, Cromwell inhales deeply, and then says, “Ms. Page, have you been soliciting sex online?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Soliciting sex,” he repeats louder, as if I’m hard of hearing and not just disbelieving his crazy words.

  His voice is loud enough that everyone across the state must have heard him. Well, at least everyone in the outer office. My cheeks burn bright as I stare at him in shock. I know that Uncle Phil and Cromwell had a discussion, and I was deemed a victim of a cruel hoax. That’s why the school is cracking down on bullying.

  Or so Cromwell claims. But he’s the worst bully of all.

  “No,” I say, louder than he ever could. “No, it was a prank.”

  “So, there are no pictures?”

  I’m silent because I can’t deny it. Arielle sniffs loudly into her wet tissue. I have to speak before she does.

  “They’re private.” The words rush out of me as I lean forward in my chair. “And they were stolen. I’d never sell sex. I’m a virgin.”

  Arielle coughs, and I turn, giving her a dirty look, but she won’t face me.

  Cromwell reaches for a laptop on his desk. “According to this article, Ms. Page, you’re auctioning off your virginity.”

  He pivots the screen, so I can read it. It’s a New York Post online article with a headline that blares “SEX SALE AT POSH SCHOOL.” My eyes skim the sordid article about a student enterprise at Montlake to auction off sex.

  My picture is carefully cropped, but I recognize my old purple bed. Next to the image is a quote attributed to a Natalie, senior at Montlake. Motherfucker! I’m quoted in the article as saying, “We’re not all rich, and going to college is important to me. Sex is my only commodity, and it will pay for a good school.”

  I’m so hot with rage that my tears turned to steam. I jump up and point my index finger at Arielle. “She’s behind this. Her boyfriend stole my pictures. She’s hell-bent on running me out of here because of jealousy.”

  Cromwell holds up his hand to calm me as if I’m a dog chewing on his costly carpet. “Ms. Page, sit down.”

  And on cue, Arielle finally speaks. “She stole my ex-boyfriend, Lucas Bellman. We were going to be married after graduation, but it’s over.” She sniffs pitifully. “And now, she wants my new boyfriend, Troy Saunders. She cornered him in the fieldhouse, but he fought her off. Natalie is still chasing him. She hates me and can’t stand to see me in love.”

  Arielle bursts into fresh tears. Cromwell looks at me like I’m a woman with a voracious appetite, and that this problem is above his pay grade as the judge of good and evil.

  “It’s a lie,” I reply, standing again. “You know I’m being bullied, but what are you doing about it? Nothing! That’s what.”

  “Your uncle declined an in-person conference,” he says calmly.

  “Because all you do is talk.”

  Perhaps it isn’t in my best interest to shout at Cromwell like a bitch. But what else can I do? I feel powerless, and screaming is my only strength.

  “It’s worse than that.” Arielle continues. “Strange men, older men are talking to me. I was out shopping with my mother when a man approached us.” Her face blushes on cue. “He… he asked me if I was the girl!” Arielle points a polished fingernail at the laptop screen.

  Lucas’s words haunt me, but the meaning has changed. I shudder, but I’m not about to lose traction. If it had really happened, she wouldn’t be sitting here alone.
/>   “Where’s your mother now?” I ask harshly.

  “Ms. Page,” Cromwell barks at me. “You will behave yourself.”

  “It’s a legitimate question.” I face him. “If it really happened, her mother would be here now, raising hell about it.”

  Arielle speaks directly to Cromwell. “She didn’t come in today because she’s looking for another school for me to attend, you witch. Somewhere where I won’t have to deal with the bullying.”

  I have to hand it to her; Arielle is smooth. I briefly wonder if her father or mother is a lawyer because she definitely has inherited the litigation gene.

  Cromwell stands up. “Ms. Blackwater, I will speak to your mother and reassure her of your safety here.”

  “How?” Arielle looks at him with a laser-blue stare. “How are you going to stop the slander and the lies? And why should my parents continue to make donations to a school that’s ruining my reputation by association?”

  You fucking bitch. I seethe, but dare not say anything lest I dig myself into a deeper hole.

  Arielle lifts her chin. “And my mother is still gracious enough to offer to pay for the damage to the fields because she is a major supporter of the Montlake athletic programs. Please, Mr. Cromwell. Do something.”

  I’m doomed. Cromwell’s gaze drifts away again as he calculates in his head the amount of money the school will lose without Arielle, plus the other students that will follow suit by leaving behind her.

  “Thank you, Ms. Blackwater.” He finally says. “You may go now. I need a few minutes alone with Ms. Page.”

  I shrink back in my seat as Arielle leaves. For a moment, victory flashes across her face. Cromwell’s hard gaze snaps back to me once we are alone.

  “Ms. Page, you may have known a certain looseness with regards to discipline when you were a public school student at West Lake. But I assure you, here, you have always been held to a higher standard. Your delinquent behavior goes against the very foundations of this academy. Your conduct is not that of a lady or a scholar. You are expelled from Montlake Academy, effective immediately.”

  CHAPTER 25

  BETH

  Arielle texts me to meet her in the East Hall outside of Cromwell’s office. My knees are shaking as I wonder if we got caught, or if someone ratted on us for the damage to the athletic fields. I lean against the plaster wall outside the outer office and try to catch my breath. But who would rat on the queen of Montlake? Nobody in their right mind, and since the teachers have been cracking down on bullying, incidents have become less blatant.

  Though I am not a part of the court, I’ve become one of the protected. My old table at the cafeteria is good enough for me, but the rich girls are no longer mean. I’m rich too, but that wasn’t good enough before. Once Arielle gave me the nod, Cora and Lexi started speaking to me in the hallways. In front of people. Fuck, the shocked looks I got that day were worth it. I have to admit that I like kids stepping aside as I walk down the hall. Man, I should have started working the code freshman year. But it’s never too late to join. Arielle reminds me that college will be the same for us.

  I sigh and lean against the wall and look at my feet. My red heels are from Lexi, and they match my black leggings nicely. She got them from her mom. I hardly ever wore heels before, but now I get why I should. Riley Mason, a junior on the baseball team, lent me his letterman jacket. It’s so big it hits my thighs, plus it’s freaking warm like a toaster. And Riley has a killer smile. He likes to tease me about dating younger men.

  Anthony’s half smile flashes across my brain and I feel a pinch in my gut from missing him. I don’t want to love him, but I still do. I think I always will. I’m stuck on that loser. Lifting my chin, I clear the thoughts out of my head. Life is offering me something shiny, new, and majorly improved. My chin lifts higher as a grin tugs my lips to the side. I’m feeling superior, and I think I’m going to like it.

  “Hi, Beth.” Arielle walks out of the main office. Her smile is so bright that she could compete with the sun. My gaze falls to her denim skirt; it’s longer than a freshman’s.

  “I got your text. What happened? Are you okay?” My voice rises and falls like a pubescent boy’s. Jeez, I hope I’m not going from kickass to ass-kisser just to fit in.

  Arielle looks behind her shoulder toward the office door. She gives me another solar smile. “Just wait right here.”

  With long strides, she hurries off down the hall to the main door. My jaw slack, I watch her, wondering if I’m being set up for the fields. Of course I’m being set up. It would be just like her to do something shitty and make me the pawn. Fucking double-crossing …

  My face falls as Natalie steps out of Cromwell’s office. She looks like they made her pick up the torn grass with a tweezer. I wasn’t expecting to see her here, but I’m not a fool; now I know why Arielle wanted me here. I’ve been scammed, but the benefits lessen the distaste of being used. My body is on autopilot as my mouth prepares to do what’s expected of me. I stand up straight in my four-inch heels, placing my hands on my hips, and I glare a beaten Natalie down.

  She looks miserable, like she’s been wrung out and tossed away, and back in the old day, I would’ve been a caring and eager friend. I was a fool back then. But today, I’m prepared to get my say.

  “Up to your old tricks.” My voice is like thin ice. “I wouldn’t have thought old guys were your thing.”

  Natalie lifts her gaze and stares at me like I should shut up. She’s got nerve. Her lips twist as she eyes the jacket, and she’s probably putting two and two together. Natalie always liked math.

  Closing the office door, she shoots back, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

  The tone in her voice makes me pause. I’m a little less sure of myself, but I can bullshit confidence. The same way Natalie can bullshit me into believing she’s not after Anthony. And what happened when I leave the two of them alone? She chased him down like a lioness nailing an antelope.

  “You did this yourself,” I reply. “By being a good little slut.”

  She’s in my face, but the wall keeps me in place. “I’m not a slut, and you know it, but you made me look like one to the world.” She eyes me up and down in my new uniform, then scoffs, “I’m nothing like Arielle, but you are. In fact, you’ve surpassed her. Are you giving her lessons?”

  “Lessons on what? Slutting? She should try asking you.”

  “No, on being a fake friend.”

  I lift my finger and aim it in her face so close I almost touch her stupid nose. “You’re one to fucking talk.”

  Natalie opens her mouth in surprise, but thankfully, she says nothing. My blood is simmering, and if she had said anything, I would have smacked her down.

  She closes her eyes and shakes her head, rebooting the direction of the conversation. “I saw your handiwork, Beth. Cromwell showed it to me.” There’s no anger in her voice. Only sadness. “A New York Post article about a senior selling sex online.” She opens her eyes, and they’re swimming in tears.

  But somehow, her voice remains calm—almost resigned. “They used my name and my picture. Was it worth it?”

  Involuntarily, I inhale a deep breath as I take a step back. “I didn’t post it to a news site.”

  “But you posted the pictures.”

  “You shouldn’t have sent them to Anthony.”

  “Maybe so, but can you tell me you’ve never done something stupid? I know you, so answer carefully.”

  Admitting it to her would be disastrous, but I sent out a couple of selfies of my own, and not all to Anthony. It wasn’t a smart thing to do for apparent reasons. But I’m in too deep now. I can’t back down.

  “But why did you send them to him?” The words fly out of my mouth, confirming that I am still upset.

  “I don’t have a good enough reason. I’ve been lonely. You know how it can be here. Not knowing who to trust. And Anthony has always been there. He’s always been a friend.”

  “And now, he’s more?” />
  She won’t answer my question, but I know the answer. Punk boy is floating on air, and not because of the weed in his backpack.

  “Does it matter?” She sighs, trembling. “Because thanks to you and Arielle, I’ve been expelled.”

  The air leaves my lungs, and I don’t mean to gawk at her bombshell. I have been used thoroughly, and I wonder if my usefulness has ended. But I recover quickly, and I force myself into holding the best resting bitch face I can muster.

  “It’s probably for the best,” I offer casually, but unconvincingly. “You never really fit in here, and you never liked it either. Maybe you’ll be happier somewhere else. Maybe I did you a favor.”

  It’s a nasty thing to say. Even Arielle wouldn’t have gone that far, so I guess that’s why I’m here and not her. I brace myself for retaliation.