Low: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Suffolk Academy Book 1)

by Lilah Walker

  Low: A Dark High School Bully Romance

  (Suffolk Academy Book 1)

  Lilah Walker

  Copyright © 2020 by Lilah Walker

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The material in this book is for entertainment purposes ONLY. Enjoy.

  If you want to know about future releases, updates, and bonus scenes from Lilah Walker, click here.

  BLURB

  I never thought of seeking revenge until now.

  My past is not pretty.

  My family life is not wholesome.

  My home is not secure.

  So I’m living in a new place with people I don’t know and going to a new school with strangers.

  Everyone knows the rules, but me, I run right over them. You’re not supposed to stand up to Lowell Bartlett.

  He is everything that is…

  Low.

  Down.

  Dirty.

  I’m told to worship the ground he walks on and blush when he glances my way. I just can’t turn the other cheek after being humiliated, but I can’t run away.

  He wants to break me, and he wants me.

  He can’t have it both ways.

  Not with me.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  More Books by Lilah Walker

  About The Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  “S

  o-fucked Academy?” I roll my eyeballs in slow-motion, just to make sure they’ll see how much this situation pisses me off. “Seriously. What the hell is that?”

  “Stop it, Aleta!” Mom says, not missing a beat before she berates me—like always. “You will respect your grandparents and stop this pettiness!”

  I’ve pissed her off. She knows I do it on purpose.

  Grandma Judith makes a show of handing my mom a bottled water—her way of telling her to shut up. “Calm down, Sheri. You don’t have to get upset with Aleta.” And then she turns to face me, but it doesn’t escape me that her tone softens a bit. “It’s Suffolk Academy, sweetheart. Some folks around here tease the students in the same way you just said the name. Most people just call it ‘S.A.’ to be safe. Let’s do that, okay?”

  In general, Grandma Judith is far more understanding than her daughter. You might see the resemblance in their faces, but not in the way they act. Since we arrived at her front door two days ago, she’s taken everything as gently as possible—at least with me.

  “It’s an elite school, Aleta,” my grandma adds. “You’ll love it there.”

  It’s the same thing I’ve heard about Suffolk Academy since I first heard the name. And you know what? It doesn’t even matter to me anymore. Even if it weren’t an elite school, I don’t have a choice here. Obviously, I’d prefer to be in New York for my senior year, not in some private school in hot Florida. But as things stand, I have to get used to an unfamiliar environment in a new climate, and try to make new friends. Considering I had no say in the matter, I figure a little attitude toward my mom is the least my family should expect.

  The problem is, they know me, and they know I’ll be fine just as much as I do. It will take time, but yeah, I can handle it. I just hate the fact that I’m not going back to New York. I doubt this place will be any fun. If anything, the fact that it’s such a ‘respected institution’ is all the more reason to dread it.

  I roll my eyes one more time and accept my own bottled water from Grandma before I dart my eyes back to Mom. “You could have just given me this one last year in New York, Mom. It’s already August.”

  “We’re done with our time in New York, baby. Florida is where we are now.”

  I swallow hard, trying not to let myself feel the weight of those words. New York was my life. I’ve never lived anywhere else. And although I won’t admit this, it terrifies me how much I might not like it at Suffolk Academy. I was actually looking forward to my senior year before this move happened. Now, not so much.

  “Aleta,” my grandma says as she takes a seat at the kitchen table, “you have nothing to worry about. This is not New York, but we’re in a great neighborhood here in Palm Beach. The young people at S.A. are superb students. They’re intelligent, going places, and I’m sure you’ll fit right in there!”

  For the first time since we started the conversation, I smile. If nothing else, Grandma Judith’s optimism is a little reassuring.

  “Your grandma’s right, Aleta!” The crackling baritone of my grandfather’s voice blazes through the room. He’s been sitting here throughout the conversation as if we lost him—just waiting his turn, I guess. “You’re going to like it here in Florida. And it doesn’t matter how so-fucked the school is because you’re going to see it’s a grand school when you get there.”

  “Franklin, mind your language!” Grandma Judith cautions him.

  “What the fuck, Judith? She’s a seventeen-year-old from New York. Are we going to pretend she’s not an encyclopedia of swear words?”

  I try not to laugh, pursing my lips around the mouth of my bottled water. Good for Grandpa for being the realist in the room.

  Grandma Judith huffs. “At least you shouldn’t encourage her to use them.”

  And, with that, the discussion is over. Grandma announces that she’s about to make dinner and asks my mom to stay in the kitchen and help.

  The rest of the evening isn’t exactly eventful, but I guess it’s a sign of what’s to come now that Mom and I live here. I sit with my grandpa in the living room to watch some football game. Even he doesn’t seem too entertained by it, staring off absent-mindedly through most of it.

  ∞∞∞∞∞

  After a week’s time, we’ve done everything we need to do. I’ve got clothes to fit the Florida weather and I’m signed up at what my family is determined to see as something like a golden-brick road to my oh-so-bright future. I’ve got more supplies than I could use or need in four years of high school because everyone wants me to be ready. Me? I could kind of care less, but school starts tomorrow.

  It’s just going to be one year, I tell myself, in case things go bad. As I take my shower before bed Sunday night, I imagine I’m back in New York with the city sounds outside of my window. I can almost pretend everything’s back to normal. When I get out, though, I’m reminded that I have to start a whole new life in the morning.

  I fall asleep and dream about the new dimensions taking over my life. And at six in the morning, I wake up to the sound of my mom’s name being called from a distance. “Sheri! Sheri!”

  I che
ck the time again—it’s about time for me to get up and get ready for whatever’s coming, but that doesn’t explain why my grandma is yelling for my mom like she’s just burned down the house.

  She should be here, though, right? So, where the hell is she?

  The door to my room flies open and in rushes Grandma Judith. I want to protest the way she’s just barged in, but then I see the look in her eyes. This is not the time for a ‘privacy policy’ discussion.

  “Sorry, Aleta—is your mom in here?”

  I look around the room pointedly, but when that doesn’t seem to get the point across, I shake my head. “No, she’s not.” Grandma Judith goes back out almost as quickly as she came in.

  Feeling a little bit of panic creep into the frustration I’m already feeling—because, really, this is how we’re starting my first day of school here, on top of everything else?—I jump out of bed, thinking to go join my grandparents where I can hear them in the living room. I’ve just dumped the duvet back on the bed when I see a piece of paper sitting on the bedside stool.

  Almost before I pick it up, I know what it is. I know what it has to be.

  Mom’s bailing.

  Tell your grannie I’m fine. I’m leaving to go be with Richard.

  I hope you’ll be fine, too.

  At the moment, I don’t know what I feel. I don’t know if it should relieve me, knowing where she is, or upset me that she’s gone and this is how she went about it. How I feel doesn’t matter, of course. She did this, and I have to tell my grandmother that she won’t be seeing her daughter any time soon, no matter how much she yells her name. I get myself together, taking my time to get dressed, and head out of the room thinking about what I’ll say.

  “She’s on a plane to France with her boyfriend. Or, she’s preparing to get on one at least.”

  Yeah, that’ll go over well. Maybe I should wait until Grandma Judith is calm. Then again, they might call the cops before that happens.

  Out in the living room, my grandparents are the very definition of the phrase ‘beside themselves with worry’, but something about my face must tell them I’ve got the answer. I sigh, and then I sit down to be the bearer of bad news. It’s now my duty to explain to my grandmother that her daughter, my mother, has run away from home with a man. Talk about an awkward responsibility.

  The thing is, I can’t even quite be angry about her leaving. I’m guessing she’s considered what’s best for herself, and maybe she took the coward’s way out of the house, but it is what it is. She’s been seeing Richard for about six months. They suddenly drifted apart when he started talking about taking things to another level and her living in Europe with him, but I know what he doesn’t understand, and that’s just how hard my mom worked to raise me all by herself for seventeen years in a city like New York. Now that I’m basically raised, Richard is a way out for her. She thinks he loves her. I believe he loves her, too…but the package was also supposed to include me. He just never saw it that way.

  As soon as I saw the note and read it, I understood.

  The entire plan of moving away from New York with such brief notice makes sense to me at this point. It wasn’t ‘bad influences’ or ‘money’ or the supposed ‘violence’ or anything else she brought up. She had it planned out all along. Set me up with her parents and elope with her Prince Charming.

  I guess I’m supposed to see her side, and feel like that’s sweet, but she could have at least told me. Because now I’m the one putting on a brave face to change schools, not to mention living with grandparents I barely know. This is only the third time I’ve seen them for more than a few days’ visit at a time. No wonder Mom was putting off looking for a job for her or for an apartment for us.

  “Why did she leave like this?” Grandma Judith asks when I finish explaining where she’s gone. And then, after a beat of confusion, she looks between her husband and me, and asks, “Do you still want to start school today?”

  Well, why not? Might as well get it over with.

  “Yes, Grandma,” I reply. “I’ll go to Suffolk Academy today.”

  “Alright, then. I’ll get your breakfast ready.” Grandma disappears off to the kitchen, and Grandpa takes the opportunity to start talking again about what good things he’s heard about the school, and how lucky I am to be attending such a gorgeous campus. I know what he means about that, at least. I saw it for myself.

  Suffolk Academy is a twenty-minute drive from my grandparents’ house. I remember how magnificent it is from our school visit a few days ago. From the moment we drove onto the grounds, I could tell it’s a school for the wealthy. The spacious buildings and facilities are built to make any student want to go there—or, maybe more importantly, make any parent want to shell out big bucks for their kids to go there. Situated right outside of Palm Beach County, the school is owned by a group of wealthy corporate families who charge enough to make sure only the offspring of the rich can attend.

  As indifferent as I am about the place, though, seeing an Olympic-sized tennis court with all of the ultramodern facilities lured me in a little. The swimming pool and tennis court were the first things to fascinate me and make it feel like things could be tilting in my favor. When we went to the headmaster’s office, I had to stop myself from looking around in awe. I could barely wait to see the classrooms.

  As expected, I aced the entrance test they made me take. Once my grandmother paid my tuition, they admitted me at the moment’s notice. Grandma Judith swiped her card through the machine without thinking twice. I glimpsed the bill just as she was about to pay, too, and it was massive. I’d already figured that what I’d seen had to come at a significant cost. What I didn’t know until then is that I have grandparents who can afford something like S.A.

  Grandpa used to be a bank executive before he retired and went into private business and made even more money there. According to Mom, the Alzheimer’s disease diagnosis some years ago brought on his full retirement. He needs full care and attention now, and that’s become my grandmother’s job—well, along with an assortment of nurses who come by. From what I can see, though, even his medical bills aren’t causing them any financial headaches. Their house alone is testament to the fact that they’re financially comfortable, at least. And if they could pay the fees she just paid at Suffolk without breaking a sweat, then they’re in one hell of a good place.

  Good thing, too, since it looks like they just acquired a new daughter—at least temporarily.

  CHAPTER TWO

  T hey say life is an adventure.

  One big, fun-filled party after another.

  But right now, trying to melt into the black leather upholstered seat of my grandmother’s black BMW, I’ve never seen life so clearly…and it’s no adventure. It’s a whole bunch of years spent having other people tell you what you can and can’t do, and what is and isn’t socially acceptable. And that’s about it, along with stress.

  Take today, in my little life. Nobody asked me if I wanted to have this experience. Nobody thought about my feelings or whether I’d have an opinion on where my life is going. Nobody asked me if I liked my old normal, or if I wanted to go on what they’re calling an adventure and I’m calling torture.

  If someone were to ask me, they wouldn’t like my answer, but I guess that’s probably why they don’t ask. They don’t even tell me what’s on the agenda.

  Hell, my own mom just dumped me off and left in the middle of the night without a kiss goodbye or even a hug.

  Gran turns the radio up to hear some commercial, and I stare forward sullenly. Who cares if she thinks I’m being a brat right now? If that’s how they want to treat me, that’s what I’ll be. Staring forward at the road, I almost wish a deer would run out on the road and keep us from what’s coming. That would stop us in the tracks of this ‘great adventure’…not that I’d want anything to happen to a deer, obviously.

  I love animals, and just thinking about hitting one makes me feel guilty, but I’m sure Grandma would swerve in time
. Or maybe we could swerve away from an alligator instead and land in a ditch, and then be stuck in our car, waiting for it to leave—that would be our own little Florida adventure, and we could just cause some minor damage to the car.

  Instead of going to the school, we’d have to call roadside assistance and get a ride back to my grandparents’ mini-mansion in West Palm Beach. And, of course, we’d have to take a nap to get over all of the excitement. Maybe I’d just take advantage of the nap to climb out the window.

  It’s a thought, at least. Not like I want to live in that mini-mansion any more than I want to go to Suffolk.

  On the way there, I can’t help noticing also that I’ve never seen so many pompous women gliding by in their bright, cherry red convertibles, wearing their oversized sunglasses and tossing their hair in the wind. Heck, forget deer and alligators—they wouldn’t tolerate wild animals running out onto their wide, paved roads and damaging their expensive vehicles.

  Grandma thinks it’s crazy, but I’m in withdrawal from the city. I need the gritty rumble of motorcycles flying down the road, leaving the smell of gasoline in the air. I need to see an old car with its tail light held together with duct tape, rolling past me as the driver flips a cigarette butt out the window. I need the reality of my old city surrounding me. Not the fake, measured, and thoroughly planned-out landscape of every inch of this pathetic place.

  And it’s all just one more reminder that I’ve been abandoned here.

  My friends don’t text me because they know I’m not coming back. They don’t care about what I’m doing today or any other day. They’ll go on without me even though I did my best to stay there. I did everything I could think of, including hiding out in one of my friend’s basements.