by Bella King
The metal detector that I was required to pass through as I entered the main school building stayed silent as I breezed between the tall plastic sensors on either side. A single guard nodded at me as I passed through, but I ignore him. It was best not to make eye contact. Trent had told me that. Occasionally, they would do random searches, and that could be avoided if you looked like you had somewhere to be.
I sped down the hallway, my black sneakers squeaking against the linoleum floor as I made a sharp turn around the corner. The bathroom that I was heading to was at the far end of the school, which meant I had to be quick if I wanted to get to class on time. Detention and the subsequent solitary confinement weren’t especially appealing to me right now.
I tried to keep my pace reasonable so that I wouldn’t arouse suspicion, but I was on a mission, and it was difficult for me not to get excited about it. This was the most fun I had experienced since I came here, even if it did involve working for Trent. I could overlook that if I was getting some thrill out of it.
I arrived at the bathroom and rushed in. The lights took a moment to flicker on, but because it was dark when I arrived, I knew that I was alone. Good. I didn’t need anyone disturbing me while I retrieved the package.
I maneuvered to the last stall in the room. It smelled like cheap apple-scented cleaning products and bleach in the bathroom, so much so that it stung the inside of my nose as I entered the final stall. I wasn’t a fan of the smell, but it was better than it being dirty, especially since I would be touching things to get the package.
I spotted the ventilation cover on the wall near the ceiling. It was a foot to the left from the toilet, an easy location to access if you stood on top of the toilet bowl. I sprung up on the white porcelain and reached for it, easily pulling the metal grate out of the wall. It made a slight screeching sound as I pulled it out, but not too loud to alert someone outside of the bathroom to what I was doing.
This was easy. I placed my hand into the hole and pulled out a small cardboard box that was wrapped in silver duct tape. It was smaller than the one I had received from the butch girl in the dormitory and could have been hidden in my pocket if I wanted to.
I returned the vent to the hole in the wall and stepped down off the toilet bowl. The zipper on my bookbag slid open smoothly, revealing the other bag that I had inside. Inception. I stuffed the package into the second bag, zipping them both up and throwing my bookbag back over my shoulder.
Mission accomplished. Well, mostly. I still had to deliver it to Trent, but that wouldn’t be too difficult. He wanted me to meet him in the hallway near his locker after my first class. This was shaping up to be the easiest thing I had done. It was even simpler than the visits my father used to send me on.
I kicked open the dark-blue graffitied door of the stall with overt enthusiasm and strode out of the bathroom, confident that my mission was going to be completed soon. I would have the information that I craved about Emily’s death. Trent had better hold up his end of the deal.
When I arrived at my first class, it was raining outside. The classroom had two long windows with thick black bars on the outside, but I could still see through them into the courtyard well enough to tell that the rain was coming down hard. We had to go outside to get back to the dormitories, so I hoped the rain would at least slow down by the end of the day. I hadn’t brought a jacket.
I didn’t sit in the front of the class this time. I sat in the middle row, hanging out just far enough away so that the teacher wouldn’t notice me. I didn’t want to be noticed today. Maybe I should have worn something grungier like the other students then.
I was dressed in a cute pair of high-rise black jeans and tall black boots. I wore a white sweater because it was a bit chilly this morning and a black bow in my blonde hair. I thought I looked wonderful, but I stood out like a sore thumb. That wasn’t unusual, though. Maybe that’s why everyone assumed I was rich.
I sunk deep into my seat, glancing up at the board as class started. I could barely see anything at this distance. I felt like my eyesight had gotten so much worse in the past two years, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it now.
Contacts. Those would work. With the money I had in my bag, I wondered if it was possible for me to obtain them. Nobody would know, and I wouldn’t have to wear those stupid plastic glasses that the school handed out for the visually impaired. I wasn’t about to become the easiest target at Bayside Academy just because I couldn’t see well.
I didn’t open my bag to take out my books during the lecture. I couldn’t risk having someone spot the items I had tucked away inside of it, even though nobody would see them. I hadn’t done anything this risky since I was peddling dope for my father, and I was paranoid about getting caught. I didn’t wasn’t to disappoint the man who had raised me.
I traced my fingers along the etchings in the desk. I never noticed how much crap was written on them until now. Maybe that was because the desks at the front of the classroom weren’t littered with crude drawings and profanity. They were too close to the eagle eyes of the teacher to risk messing them up.
I read the messages on the desk. There were a few pictures of penises and breasts, but also random symbols. I spotted a pentagram and inverted crosses before I arrived at something that piqued my interest. It was THE KILLERS etched in with what appeared to have been a knife or blade of some sort. The cuts in the dense plastic were too deep to be done with a pen.
I felt the deep grooves with my fingers. There was something about it that excited me. Was I beginning to like my new association with Trent’s gang? I barely knew any of the members except for him, but I felt myself getting drawn to the Killers, nonetheless. Maybe it was the thrill in an otherwise dull existence that was doing it.
I looked up and around me at the other students. Some of them were doodling in their notebooks, while others stared out of the rainy windows, probably thinking about home. Anywhere would be better than here.
I looked back down at the table and got the idea to leave my own mark on it. I tried to do it with my painted black nail at first, but the plastic was too hard for me to hope to leave a mark. I gave up, not wanting to break my nail, and instead bent over to my bag and opened the small pocket on the front of it, pulling out a pen.
Without bothering to remove a notebook to make it look like I was taking notes instead of defacing school property, I began to scribble in a message beside the Killers’ etching. I wrote SAM, the short form on my name underneath the gang’s declaration. Symbolically, that brought me closer to them.
Once I was satisfied with my work, I returned my pen to my bag and waited for class to end. It passed faster when I was zoned out and not paying attention. Maybe that was a better way to do it after all. It wasn’t like I was going to fail just because I didn’t pay attention. The only way to fail was to not come to class at all and to refuse to do the sparse homework that was assigned.
When the bell rang to signal the end of class, I jumped up with the other students and rushed to leave. I nearly had to elbow my way out of the room with so many people trying to get ahead of me. It was always a mad rush at the end of each class, but I was sitting in the middle of the room this time, so I got it worse than when I was in the front.
After spilling out into the hall, everyone went their own ways. I headed straight for Trent’s locker, weaving through the idling students to get there. I spotted him standing right next to his locker as I came upon it, and he flashed a winning smile when he saw me.
I swooned. I shouldn’t have, but his smile was as dazzling as the way he was dressed today. He had opted for the typical white t-shirt and ripped jeans, but he seemed so much more put together. It took me a second to realize that it was because he had his hair slicked back and neatly parted. I wondered what provoked the change.
“How was class?” he asked as I sauntered up to him.
“Boring as always, but I did see your gang’s etchings on my desk,” I said, coming to a stop a foot away f
rom him. I could smell his cologne from here, and it made me feel even more drawn to him. I wanted to step closer to get a better whiff, but I hung back. I wasn’t going to act like a fangirl over an asshole like Trent.
“They’re in all the desks,” he stated. “Check it out sometime and see for yourself.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” I replied.
“You must not be paying very close attention. You’d do better to keep your eyes open,” he said, removing the bookbag off his broad shoulders and placing it on the ground in front of him.
I jumped into action as he did that. I had nearly forgotten that we were supposed to swap bags. I took mine off, opening it up and pulling out the twin bag he gave me, setting it on the ground. I could see that he wasn’t entirely happy that I hadn’t just brought one bag, but I didn’t think it was all that more suspicious.
I looked up at him and smiled, fully aware that my sweater had dropped down far enough to show my cleavage. I was putting on a show, and so was he. Why else would he look so nice today when he knew that he was going to see me?
I stood up straight. “Are you going to tell me about Emily now?” I asked.
“I need to check the bag first, but I can’t do it here,” he said with a shrug.
I crossed my arms. “You’re going to tell me what I want to know, or I’ll take it back.”
“Relax, Samantha. You’ll get exactly what you deserve,” he said, taking a step closer to me.
Trent was just inches away from me, and his energy was more powerful than the last time we had been together. He stared into my soul as though he owned it, a flicker of a grin on his handsome face. He was clean-shaven, another rarity, and his aftershave was like gasoline on my flames of lust.
No, I shouldn’t have been thinking that way. It would only get me into trouble.
“So, when are we going to meet up again?” I asked, my voice a lot drier than I had expected it to be.
“After school, in the graveyard,” he said, speaking in a soft and deep voice.
“There’s a graveyard?” I asked, feeling puzzled.
“Yes,” he replied, looking amused that I didn’t know about it. “There used to be a church as part of this school until it got burned down. The graveyard is still there, though.”
“Who would burn down a church?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. Any one of the students at this school looked like they were capable of doing it.
Trent shrugged. “It happened before I came here, but that’s not important. What is important is that you come. There, I will give you the information you want.”
“But we’re supposed to be in the dorms after school,” I said.
“You have half an hour, princess. It’s not that difficult,” Trent said, shaking his head and stepped back. “Go around the back of the school and meet me there, or I’m not telling you anything.”
“Fine then,” I said, watching him pick up my bag.
I took his bag, and he walked away.
“Wait,” I called out after him. I had forgotten all about the black market question. I needed to know more about that. “I need to ask you something,” I said.
Trent waved a dismissive hand, not bothering to turn around as he spoke. “Ask me at the graveyard.”
Chapter 6
I should have worn a coat.
Gray rain drizzled down in thin sheets as I walked out of the school building into the courtyard. I could smell the rich scent of greenery and ozone as I made my way around the building, my boots sinking deep into the soggy grass as I walked.
My sweater wasn’t designed for the rain. It had large holes all over it, knitted together to be fashionable more than anything else. It was warmer than not wearing a sweater at all, but the cold droplets penetrated through to my thin t-shirt, leaving me with a chill. I crossed my arms tightly as I hurried along the side of the building toward the back.
I had practically run out to meet Trent, not wanting to lose precious time and risk being late coming back. That would mean my third detention in a month, and solitary for two days. Knowing me, the boredom would literally cause me to fall dead within the first 24 hours of being locked up.
The graveyard peeked out through the gray mist as I approached the back of the building. It was an old place, I could already tell, and the headstones were crooked with age. It must have been placed here before the school was. That was the only explanation I could come up with for why it appeared to be so ancient.
“Samantha,” a deep and confident voice called out from the left side of the graveyard.
Trent stepped out from around a twisted old tree, wearing a long navy coat. He looked like a model with how he was standing by the tree. I changed my direction toward him and felt my heart speed up as I got closer.
“It’s cold,” I noted as I joined him under the bare branches of the tree in the graveyard.
“Indeed,” he said, looking me up and down. “You’re underdressed.”
“I forgot to bring a jacket today,” I said, staring up at him. He looked so warm and cozy in his thick wool coat. I wanted to get into it with him and feel his body heat. Unfortunately, that would be taking things way too far.
“You brought your bookbag?” he asked, looking around my back.
I nodded, thumbing the straps on my shoulders.
“Take it off,” he said.
“Why?” I asked, but I did as he said.
“Because I said so,” he said, his voice growing heavy.
I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach about all of this, but I didn’t voice any further concern. I obeyed him, and that was my first mistake.
“Put it down,” he said, looking toward the mossy ground at my feet.
I dropped the bag, listening to the earthy thud as it hit the wet ground. I hoped that the water didn’t soak through and get my money wet. I smiled nervously at Trent as his eyes seemed to bore a hole straight through my chest.
“Boys, we got it,” Trent said loudly, waving a hand in the air.
Large men stepped out of their hiding places behind trees and gravestone, running up to me before I even had a chance to yelp. They grabbed me with their strong tattooed hands, putting them over my mouth and digging their fingers into my sensitive skin to hold me in place. I was trapped.
My heart raced as Trent walked up to me, a smirk spread on his evil face. “You’re so pretty when you’re afraid,” he said, the worlds rolling form his pink lips like smoke.
I was more than afraid. I was terrified. The icy grip of the man behind me, holding my mouth so that I couldn’t scream, made me feel like I couldn’t breathe. I was close to submitting to full-on panic, but I stopped myself. I was supposed to be tough.
Trent leaned down and snatched the bookbag that I had placed at my feet and tore it open, breaking the zipper in one violent movement. “What’s in the bag, darling?” he asked, knowing full well that I wouldn’t be able to answer.
“Something nice in here for me?” he asked, looking up at me as he shuffled through the contents of my bag. “Oh look, money,” he stated in a tone that oozed with mockery as he held up the tightly bounds stacks of cash that I had stored in the bag.
I struggled against my captors as they chuckled. They must have been thrilled to get this much money from me, but I was far from amused. I couldn’t believe that Trent would do something like this to me. How had he even known that I had the money in the first place?
“How much money is this here?” Trent asked, waving the bills in front of my face. “Must be a lot. I wonder where you got it from.”
I jerked my head, trying to free my mouth to speak. Trent chuckled and waved his hand, signaling for his man to remove his hand from my mouth. I gasped in the cold, wet air as I was finally allowed to breathe. I wasn’t free, the warmth of a large man pressed firmly behind me, but I was able to talk.
“You’re a bastard,” I growled, nearly coming to tears at the sight of Trent playing with the money my father had given me.
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br /> “As a matter of fact, I am a bastard. What of it?” he asked with a smirk. Then, he frowned, looking at the bottom of the stack of money. “What’s this?” He said curiously, peeling off a paper from the bottom. It was the note my father had written.
“Give it back, please,” I said, unable to control the tears beginning to roll from my eyes.
Trent pouted at me, mocking my sorrow, then held the paper up to his ice-blue eyes. He studied the paper for a moment before lowering it, an evil grin spreading across his face. “Looks like daddy has money after all,” he said, letting the paper fall into the wet grass.
“Stop it,” I shrieked, trying to display anger through tears. I knew that I looked pathetic, but that note meant everything to me. To see Trent toss it to the ground like it was nothing nearly destroyed me.
“You lied to me, Samantha, and I don’t like liars,” Trent said, turning serious. His perfect eyebrows squiggled on his forehead, displaying irritation.
“I didn’t lie to you, asshole. I just got that money. I didn’t know anything about it until it arrived,” I replied.
“You’re silly if you think you can hide things from me, darling,” he said, tossing the money into the air and catching it. “I have eyes everywhere.”
“You’re the one who lied to me,” I said, remembering his promise. “You told me that you would tell me what happened to Emily.”
“And I will,” Trent said, pulling out a dollar bill from the top of the stack. “But you need to understand one thing.” He pulled out a lighter and lit the bill, struggling for a moment in the rain. “Obedience will get you a lot further than defiance will.” He pulled a carton of cigarettes from his back pocket and popped one into his mouth, using the dollar to light it.
He was putting on a show again. He seemed to enjoy the theatrics. Everything he did was a grand display of his power. Maybe he thought it was cool to behave like this, but I wasn’t impressed. I knew that he was nothing more than a petty, arrogant, douchebag, and I wasn’t going to listen to the words that he spoke.