by Jordan Ford
“What are you staring at? Get on with it.” He waves his finger at the showers.
“The showers and urinals are the foulest thing in here. We should have to do it together.”
Crossing his arms, he shows off his muscles without even realizing it. “Well, I’m not touching them.” He fights a grin. “Scrubbing that piss off the floor will be good strength training. You could use it.”
Turning away with a snicker, he continues picking up gear…and I have a thought.
Pushing up my hoodie sleeves, I snap my rubber gloves, pick up my bucket with the grace and dignity of a queen, and then stroll to the urinals.
They reek. Guys are so disgusting! Is it seriously that hard to aim?
Yellow splashes and dribbles are on practically every tile—walls and floor.
I grimace. I’ve never cleaned a toilet in my life, much less an entire bathroom. But I can’t see that confession getting me out of this. Besides, I have a plan. If I’m going to get Trey back for acting like a total douche then I need to get over myself.
I hold my breath, drop to my knees and pull the rag out of the bucket.
“Just do it,” I mumble and start scrubbing. I begin with the walls and floor, leaving the center of disgustingness for last. I have to make the rag as dirty as I possibly can. It’s the only thing that keeps me going.
By the time I’ve finished the wall of urinals, the water is murky with filth…and I have the perfect weapon.
I still have the showers to go, but I can’t wait any longer.
Trey has nearly finished clearing up the locker room. It looks neat and tidy. All it needs is a good clean.
Perfect.
Pulling the rag out of the water, I don’t bother ringing it out and hurl my weapon at the back of his head.
It hits him with a wet squelch, then gets caught on the back of his T-shirt.
I snicker.
His shoulders bunch and he goes still.
“I’ve finished the urinals.” I cross my arms and wait for him to turn.
Pulling the sopping rag off his neck, he spins back slowly. His eyes are stormy with disbelief, his lips tight with rage.
All I can do is smile and raise my eyebrows at him the way every guy in this school seems to do. It’s like they’re given a standard issue smirk and eyebrow raise upon entering the school. “Since you’re so set on picking up the dirty laundry, could you put that rag in there for me too? Thanks.”
His upper lip curls, his growl low and rumbling as he fires the rag back. I raise my arm and the disgusting cloth slaps me in the elbow. Snatching it off the floor, I dunk it in germ water again and toss it across the room.
He ducks out of the way and it slaps into the locker behind him, but not before spraying his cheek. His face bunches with disgust and he grabs the rag again, charging with a yell and throwing it straight for my face. I bash it away. It hits the wall and flops into the urinal.
I give it a dubious glare and then decide, what the hell, I’ve just cleaned it.
Pulling it out, I go to throw it again.
“Don’t you dare.” He raises his finger at me.
I pull my arm back and he rushes forward, tackling me off my feet and hauling me over his shoulder.
I squeal, sounding way too much like a girl. Pounding his back with the rag, I grunt, trying to think what a guy would sound like in this situation.
Trey hauls me into the shower, dumping me on the floor and turning it on full blast. The freezing water hits me and I gasp in shock.
“Shit, that’s cold!” I yell.
He’s laughing at me, enjoying my torture, so I do the only thing I can.
Lurching forward, I grab his ankle and pull. He slips forward, slapping his hand on the cold tiles as he gets covered with water.
“Ah!” he screams, arching his back to get away from the spray.
I start laughing at his girlish cry, closing my eyes and tipping my head back. It’s a weird kind of release. I can’t remember the last time I laughed or what it felt like, that unbidden, uncontrollable emotion.
Trey curses as he fumbles to turn the water off. It slows to a trickle and he slumps to the ground beside me.
“You tell anyone I scream like that and I’m gonna kick your ass.” He’s trying to be tough but his look is desperate, pleading.
I shrug and shake my head. “You’re talking to Wonder Boy, the most pathetic thing at this school. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
He smiles at my derogatory comment and nudges me with his elbow. “You’re not all bad. At least your throw’s half decent.”
I grin. “I can’t tell you how satisfying that was.”
His snicker is soft and humble. “I guess I kind of deserved it.”
“You gonna help me clean the showers now?”
He tips his head back against the tiles and winces. “You’ll spend the rest of the time trying to make me pay if I don’t say yes, right?”
“Pretty much.”
With a reluctant sigh, he gets to his feet and reaches down to help me up. “Okay, fine. I’ll let you win this one.”
I grip his hand and love how easily he can pull me up.
Our eyes lock for a moment. My hand is still in his. Small, protected. I don’t want to let go. His tongue skims his lower lip and my eyes are drawn to the fullness of it, then the strength of his chin. I want to draw lines on his face, navigate the structure. I want to taste him.
Trey blinks and jerks away from me, dropping my hand and clearing his throat.
“Better get to it.” He nods.
“Yep,” I fire back, heading to my bucket.
I can’t breathe properly. The air is suddenly hot. Suffocating.
My hoodie is saturated and I’m pulling down the zipper when I remember that I can’t. I zip it back up to my chin, clutching the strings and swallowing. Wet shirts cling to bodies. I may be strapped around the chest but I’m still a girl—thin waist, wider hips.
Trey’s a smart guy. What if he notices?
I empty the foul water down the drain. My hands are trembling.
So what if he did notice? Would it really be so bad if he knew the truth?
My eyes bulge.
Yes! Yes it would!
He can’t know. No one can.
I avert my gaze and head to the sink to refill the bucket, adding extra cleaner to combat the slimy shower stalls.
This is bad. The fact I even thought for a moment that I could reveal myself is proof that Trey makes my brain weak. I can’t keep hanging out with him.
He’s too likable.
Too strong.
Too beautiful.
If I’m not careful, he’ll be the death of me.
Spinning around, I carry my bucket back to the showers. Trey dumps his rag into it, then drops to his knees to pick it out and start scrubbing. Glancing over his shoulder, he gives me a closed-mouth smile before getting down to work.
I’m unable to move as I stare at him. The width of his back, the way his muscles move as he scrubs. His strong hands. Those forearms.
They’d hold me tight.
Make me secure.
The force with which I want them around me is terrifying.
I have to get out of this place.
If I stay here much longer, I won’t be able to resist him.
#12:
Schizo Chris
Trey
I’m not sure what to think…other than there’s something wrong with Chris.
He’s acting weird right now. Sitting two rows away from me, with this tight look on his face. His lips are bunched with determination. There’s fire in his eyes.
He showed some fight this weekend, throwing a filthy rag at my head. I should have beat him down, but his laughter and bright smile stopped me. It was actually kind of fun messing around with him…and holding his hand.
Shit!
I squeeze my eyes shut, pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. This is messed up
! I don’t like him. Not that way.
I’m not that kind of guy.
I like girls—their shape, their flavor, the way they feel pressed against me. It turns me on.
I’ve had to remind myself of that a lot lately.
Girls turn me on.
So why am I having all these feelings for Chris?
I feel protective around him, like I want to shelter him from trouble. But it’s not like it was with Riley. Back then, it was an excuse to pound Ivan, a chance to teach another guy how to stand up for himself.
This is different.
This time I want to put the guy behind me so he doesn’t even have to fight.
It’s insane.
I have to get over myself.
I like girls!
In spite of my warning, my eyes snap back to Chris. He’s slumped back in his chair, daring the teacher to respond.
Mr. Adler lets out a sigh and crosses his stubby little arms. “Mr. Lorden. I advise you against flat-out refusal. When I ask you to take out your study notes from Friday, I expect you to do it.”
“I don’t feel like it.” He shrugs.
Mr. Adler’s forehead crinkles. “I was informed by Headmaster Williams that you are a star student, not a star ass.”
“Ooooh.” Chris sniggers. “You speak to your mother with that mouth?”
“Get up.” Mr. Adler storms down the aisle and stops directly beside Chris’s desk. “I will not tolerate that kind of attitude in my class. Take yourself to Headmaster Williams.”
Chris makes a face, pursing his lips as if contemplating the order. Finally he shrugs. “Don’t feel like doing that either.”
What the hell? What is he doing? It’s so out of character it makes me suspicious. He’s trying to get kicked out.
But why?
Mr. Adler’s cheeks flare red, his double chin wobbling as he trembles with rage. “Get up!” he shouts, tugging Chris’s arm and hauling him out of his seat.
Chris gently shoves him back. Mr. Adler loses his balance and has to catch himself against Kade’s desk. His wince tells me it hurt, fueling the anger within him.
But Cocky Chris doesn’t seem to notice. “You really want to be touching a student like that, Mr. Adler? I could get you fired.”
“And I could get you expelled!” Spittle makes his bottom lip glisten.
“Perfect.” Chris smirks. “I hate this place anyway.”
It stings when he says it. I don’t know why. Like I should give a shit. But after we had so much fun doing one of the school’s worst jobs, I thought he’d be up for kicking around a little longer.
Something obviously switched in his mind, propelled him to want to get out, fast.
Was it me?
Mr. Adler’s nostrils flare and he points to the door. “I will walk you to the headmaster’s office myself!”
The class is quiet. Everyone’s too shocked at Chris the Schizo to make a sound.
Mr. Adler’s never been so red.
Still smirking, Chris grabs his bag and follows Mr. Adler to the door.
“Read over your notes while I’m gone,” Mr. Adler yells across the room. “We’ll have a civil discussion when I return!”
I ignore Mr. Adler’s rage. All I can do is stare at Chris, but he won’t catch my eye, even though he knows I’m looking at him. I’m sure of it.
He’s avoiding me on purpose and for some sick reason, I want to know why.
#13:
Eton Prep Code of Conduct
Christiana
I lope to the headmaster’s office, still smirking, but the closer I get to the front entrance, the harder it is to keep it in place. Mr. Adler is steaming. His quiet rage vibrates off the walls, pinging back to hit me between the eyes.
If he has his way, I’ll be packing my bags this afternoon.
That’s what I want too.
Right?
I was so sure of myself last night as I lay in bed scheming. I’d come up with a million ways to get booted and finally settled on making a teacher so irate that I’d be expelled on the spot.
It nearly happened to me once before. Miss Filamore. Two years ago. She was such a mean witch, and I prodded her until she went ballistic. When she blew her top all I could do was laugh, which set the whole class off.
I was suspended for a week and removed from her class.
Crossing my fingers, I hope for a more drastic result this time.
I have to go.
It isn’t safe here anymore.
Trey will unravel me. Ivan will kill me.
There has to be a better hiding place.
Mr. Adler doesn’t touch me the entire way to the office. I’m sure my accusation unnerved him. As soon as we arrive, he orders me into one of the waiting room chairs and storms across to reception. I can’t hear exactly what’s being said, but the sharp tone and dark looks tell me enough.
It takes Headmaster Williams less than twenty minutes to call me into his office. Mr. Adler storms away, triumphant yet still in a rage.
I try to keep my composure as I shuffle into the office, try to keep up the bravado I’ve been showing all morning, but Headmaster Williams has an icy look. The blue fire in his eyes, the warning on his tight lips…it makes me falter.
I ease into the chair opposite his desk and have to resist the urge to sit up straight.
“Well, I must say, this is disappointing, Chris. When your parents pushed for a quick enrollment, I accommodated them with the understanding that you were an upstanding student with great things in your future. We gave you your own room. We’ve accommodated you in every way possible, and this is how you show your gratitude? You’ve been here just over a week and already you’re sitting in my office having humiliated one of my best teachers.”
I drop my gaze, focusing on the small cotton thread sticking out from the seam of my charcoal pants.
“Look at me,” he commands, his tone quiet yet forceful.
I glance up, my nerve crumbling.
“Why this reaction? It’s like you want to be expelled.”
My jaw works to the side and I look away from him.
“We don’t work that way in this school. It’s a three-strike policy. Our goal between strikes is to train you, to help you learn from your mistakes. So if your hope by insulting Mr. Adler today was to get a free ticket home, then you’re going to be very disappointed.”
Tears burn my eyes but I lock my jaw, refusing to let them show.
Shit!
“Now I’ve already spoken to your father. He happens to be nearby on business today, so he’s requested to come in and speak to you personally.”
I close my eyes.
“He was adamant that he wants you to stay at Eton and has agreed with my suggestion that we put you on in-house suspension until the Thanksgiving break. He then went on to tell me that he’s so appalled by your behavior that you’re going to be spending the Thanksgiving holiday here at Eton as well. I’m sure the skeleton staff that remains can find a list of jobs they’d be happy for you to help with.” Headmaster Williams smiles. His creamy smooth voice makes me want to throw up.
My chin wobbles as I fight the emotions raging inside of me.
“So…” He clasps his hands together. “You will be removed from Mr. Adler’s class immediately. You will spend the rest of today in the desk outside my office writing him an apology letter, then copying the school’s code of conduct out by hand. You’re on dish duty for both lunch and dinner for the next two weeks, and the weekends will be spent in your room, contemplating how you will behave from this point on.”
His gaze drills into me, daring me to stand up to him.
“Are we clear on expectations, Mr. Lorden?”
I nod.
“Good. Remove yourself from my office. Your father will be here shortly. Until then, you can get to work on that apology letter.”
Chiclet teeth smile at me.
I snatch my bag off the floor and shuffle out of the room.
*****
“Dad” shows up fuming.
Taking my arm, he asks Headmaster Williams’s assistant if there is a private place we can talk. I nearly trip over my feet as he pulls me towards the conference room. As soon as the door is shut, he dumps me in a chair and towers over me.
“What are you doing?” Rybeck thunders. “Trying to get yourself kicked out of this place? What the hell are you thinking?”
“I hate it here,” I mumble, my voice lame and tiny.
“Oh boo hoo!” He scoffs. “This place is saving your life. Don’t you get that?”
I pound my fist on the shiny oval table. “There’s got to be someplace else! Somewhere better!”
“You have to be invisible until we need you. It’s imperative you’re not found.” His face bunches with desperation. “And I’m not just talking about the case. Your life is on the line right now.” His eyes flicker with something he’s not willing to say. I narrow my gaze, searching for more, but he looks away, rubbing the back of his neck with a heavy sigh. “I know it’s hard. We’ve put you in a really horrible position, but you came to us for help. You want justice for Robbie, right?”
I slump back into the chair. The leather smells new.
Gripping the arms, my body starts to tremble. My eyes are burning again, threatening to overflow.
“It’s not forever.” Rybeck sighs. “You just need to keep your head down and stay safe. Once this is over you’ll get your life back.”
“I’m never going to get my life back,” I mutter. “I sealed my fate the second I walked into that police station and opened my mouth.”
Rybeck brushes my arm, then pulls out one of the plush conference room chairs pushed against the wall. Taking a seat beside me, he swivels around so we’re facing each other. “You did the right thing.”
“It doesn’t feel like it. I’m betraying my family.”
“You’re sending a guilty man to prison. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
I close my eyes and turn away from him. A tear slips free. I wipe it off my skin.