by Jordan Ford
Strike one. I was on kitchen duty for an entire semester.
It’d been worth it.
Riley came to help me of his own accord and we became best buds while we scrubbed those foul pots and pans. I put it down to fate.
Ivan hadn’t come near either of us again.
Until now.
Looks like I’m about to get kicked out of Eton.
“Where is he? I’m gonna kick his ass.”
Kade plants his feet beside me, crossing his arms. “Not before I do.”
“It wasn’t Ivan,” Riley mutters and rolls his eyes.
My face asks for more while my lips bunch into a tight line.
Riley doesn’t want to say. He never does.
“Spit it out.”
Gently fingering his puffy cheek, he murmurs, “Chris got shitty and threw his big-ass flashlight at me when I wasn’t looking.”
Kade snickers. “What?”
“I don’t know what the hell his problem was. I should have pounded him back, but…he’s so pathetic, you know? I just didn’t have it in me to hit him.”
“Yeah?” I make two fists. “Well, I do.”
“Trey, leave it, man!”
I slam the door on Riley’s call and barge into Chris’s room. He’s sitting on his bed looking sick and pale, but I’m too annoyed to stop and think about it.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I fling my arms wide. “A flashlight? Are you fucking insane?”
I spot it on the ground and snatch it up, shoving it into my back pocket. “I’m taking this.”
“Give it back.” He jumps off the bed and goes to grab it.
I shove him away. “Forget it. If you’re gonna use it as a weapon then I’m confiscating it.”
“Oh, you’re a teacher now?” Chris’s eyes fire with anger. “Acting like some self-righteous prick? He was the one in my room and he wouldn’t get out.”
“So you throw this at his face while he’s not looking? Have you seen the bruise you left behind?”
“Oh, please, he’s a big boy. He can handle it.”
I grit my teeth, steam coming out my nose. “You don’t mess with my brothers.”
“They’re not your brothers!” His eyes fire hot. “You’re not even related!”
“They’re brothers to me. I don’t give a shit about blood. They’re family, and I don’t like it when someone does something to hurt them! So you’re gonna apologize to Riley.”
“Screw you.” He tries to shove me.
His pathetic attempt barely moves me, which pisses him off.
I snicker and tell him he’s lame without saying it.
My expression makes his dark eyebrows dip together and he lets out a growl before lurching forward with a punch. I block it, waving his hand away.
He comes forward with another punch, aiming for my stomach. I jump out of the way and grab his skinny wrist.
He stomps on my foot, catching my little toe. I grumble a curse and shift my knee just as he goes for my groin.
I flash him a horrified look. Does he not know the rules of combat? You never go for the balls!
My eyes narrow with anger and he starts struggling big time, making these pathetic little noises as he goes for my shins and then tries to stand on my feet again.
“Stop it!” I want to punch him square in the face but I get what Riley means.
The guy’s so…I don’t know what he is, but I can’t bring myself to hit him.
With a sharp huff, I walk him back and slam him into his closet door. His face crumples with pain, but he won’t quit struggling. I let go of his wrist and grab his collar, getting in his face, about to yell at him for being an idiot.
But then he looks me straight in the eye.
It’s like the first time I saw him. Some weird, freaky connection that makes us both still. I can’t move away from it. I can’t do anything but stare into his brown eyes, transfixed by the pain and longing.
His eyes glass over and before I can stop it, he lurches forward and plants his lips on mine.
I kiss back.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but the second his soft lips hit me, I’m taken by this primal need I don’t understand. His tongue swipes across my lips and I give in to it, opening my mouth and searching for a taste.
Our breath is hot, hitting each other with a mindless desperation I can’t control.
Until my senses kick in and the thought flitters through my brain…
I’m kissing a guy.
My eyes bulge and I jolt back, wiping a hand across my mouth.
Chris’s lips part with horror. He can’t believe it either.
I stumble back, crashing into the edge of the desk.
“That wasn’t…” I raise my finger. “I’m not into…” I’m shaking as I wipe my lips with the back of my hand.
He won’t say anything. He’s just staring at me with those glassy eyes. Tears line his lashes and the second the first one spills over, I bolt from the room.
Running straight to the bathrooms, I lock myself in the back stall and thump onto the toilet seat. I grip my knees. What the hell just happened? Burying my head in my hands, I try to gain control of my thundering heart and come to terms with the fact that Chris is gay, and there’s a chance I might be as well.
#17:
Cold and Restless
Christiana
I can’t believe I kissed Trey.
But he was right there. He was angry, steamed…irresistible as melted chocolate on a marshmallow.
Something about his eyes drew me in, took control of my senses and made me forget the fact I was in hiding.
And he kissed back.
His tongue was warm and commanding. I wanted to melt against him, feel his arms encase me. He could wipe it all away—my fear, my isolation. He could make it better.
But he can’t! Because he can’t know what I am.
All my impulses did was confuse him and create a massive rift between us. I’ve never seen him so pale as the moment he crashed into my desk, wiping his mouth like I’d burned him. His brain must have been spasming big time.
Guilt sears me.
I shouldn’t have been so impulsive. Emotions always get in the way of common sense. It was emotion that probably got me into this position in the first place.
Rage carried me to the police station the night of Robbie’s death.
Stubborn indignation made me defy my mother.
Righteous anger made me squeal on Ivan.
Fear made me push Mr. Adler.
And desperation made me kiss Trey.
I close my eyes and wince, reliving the moment from the outside.
My face was on TV today! I’ve been accused of murder and there’s a price on my head. I should be burying myself in an underground bunker, but no, I decide the best approach to this new revelation is to kiss the guy I’m lusting after!
“You’re such an idiot,” I mutter into the darkness.
Rybeck will be livid if he ever finds out. I wonder what he thinks of the news reports this afternoon. He and McNeal are probably buzzing around trying to squash it. I want to call and yell at both of them.
He knew something when he came in acting like my irate father. What’s the bet the Candellas have been making life difficult for everyone.
I don’t understand why they think Sorrentinos are so bad.
Well, except for Marco Sorrentino—the devil himself.
But why me?
Why would I kill Robbie? And why was hanging out with Robbie such a bad thing?
I don’t even know who the Candellas are! His last name could have been Frogsbottom and I still would have hung out with him.
I’d be stupid not to wonder if it had something to do with Robbie’s death though. Did Marco have a grudge against Robbie’s family? One that ran so deep he decided to off a Candella just to make a point?
And why can’t the Candellas just be satisfied that one Sorrentino will be going down for the crime? Why go af
ter me?
I swallow.
I thought my biggest problem was my uncle, but now I’ve got a raging family to contend with too.
Shit! My dad will now know that I was with Robbie the night I ran away. He’ll put two and two together. He might try and deny it but he won’t be able to.
How the hell did the Candellas figure out Robbie and I were together that night? We were so careful to keep our date a secret, and we didn’t even understand why. It was like instinct warning us to keep things under wraps.
But of course Uncle Marco had to find out.
Wait. Was he following me?
I rub my aching head. Questions keep pummeling me and I can’t answer any of them.
Whether my uncle was following me or not, he will never admit to what he did…what I saw. My father will kill him if he jumps on the Candellas’ bandwagon though. I’m his precious daughter; surely I’d beat out his evil little brother. Dad wouldn’t want me testifying against Marco, but he’d never accuse me of murder either.
So, the devil’s only option is to get rid of me before I testify.
Mom’s reaction when I busted in the door that night told me Marco was a killer. He’ll have no qualms about taking out the witness who could put him behind bars.
Even though I’ve been accused on TV, it doesn’t change the facts. My testimony could bury him…and once the Candellas hear what I have to say, they’ll know I’d never do anything to harm their son.
No, my biggest threat will always be the devil.
He’ll want to find me without my father knowing, make me disappear.
Mom will be too afraid to speak out.
I’ll become a ghost.
Tears burn again, warning me that I’m not going to sleep tonight. My mind is too busy. Too scattered, jumping from death to kisses. My emotions ping like a pinball, hitting each nerve as it travels down my body.
Scrubbing my cheeks, I sit up and fling the covers aside. I’m cold and restless.
I need to yell at Rybeck.
It’s stupid, but I shove my freezing toes into my clompy boots and grab a sweater. Pulling it over my head, I creep out of the room. Without my flashlight, I stumble three times on the stairs and nearly turn the wrong way when I’m exiting the building.
The wind stings my cheeks, making me shiver. My teeth start to chatter as I dash across the open space, then disappear into the shadows. Shuffling along the path, I wind my way to the darkness until that ripe smell hits me and I know I’m nearly there.
I wrestle the rusty lock open and squeeze into the shed. I have to grope around for a few minutes to unearth the phone, but finally I yank it free, drop it, and then have to pat the dusty floor until I have it back in my grasp. The screen lights up and I start punching in numbers.
“Rybeck.” His voice is groggy, but it’s enough to spark my anger.
“You knew, you son of a bitch. No wonder you want to imprison me over Thanksgiving! Every man and his dog is probably looking for me now!”
Rybeck sighs, his voice heavy. “Are you alone?”
“Yes!” I snap. “I’m in the shed and no one can see or hear me, okay?”
He sighs again. “I’m sorry to tell you this, kid, but between your uncle and the Candellas, every man and his dog is already looking for you. Why do you think I’m grounding you for Thanksgiving? You’re in one of the most isolated places I could find. I want to keep you as far from society as possible. We can’t afford to let them find you. The Candellas are a formidable family. I wouldn’t put it past them to take matters into their own hands.”
My eyes bulge. They’ve been doing that a lot today. I don’t like it.
“Are you kidding me right now? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He sighs. “Look, I don’t know if you’re aware of this but your family isn’t exactly squeaky clean, okay?”
I press my lips together and swallow.
“The Candellas aren’t either. There’s a lot of bad blood running between the two families.”
“Why?”
“It’s never been clearly established but there’s…” He sighs. “About twenty years ago there was a gun fight. Candella was shot in the chest and according to the reports I read, there was more blood at the crime scene, suggesting a second victim. The police questioned Candella but he never said a word. There wasn’t enough evidence to build a case, so it went cold.”
“What are you trying to tell me right now? Are you saying Marco was involved somehow?”
“There’s speculation that your family and the Candellas were feuding over something. Candella probably stayed quiet because he didn’t want to admit to killing anybody, but I’m wondering if Robbie’s murder was a crime of revenge. Your family settling an old score.”
It’s getting really hard to breathe. I rub my chest with the heel of my hand. What old score?
“Listen, don’t think about any of that stuff. All I want you to focus on is staying safe and remembering exactly what you saw. I’m not going to let the Candellas find you, okay? And Marco’s in jail right now. He can’t touch you anyway.”
“Oh, please. You don’t think he has connections on the outside? Don’t try reassuring me with bullshit!”
I can almost see Rybeck wincing at the phone, his square face scrunching into wrinkles.
“I know you’re scared right now. But please trust me, no one is going to find you at Eton. We chose that school for a reason. We screened the staff, studied their prospectus. We thoroughly scoped out the grounds. Their strict policies on screen time and phone usage is just one of the key reasons we chose the school. The students barely have access to the outside world. Which brings me to the point, how did you find out about this?”
I roll my eyes. “Because I go to school with a bunch of teenagers. Do you honestly think rules are going to stop them from accessing screen time?”
Another heavy sigh from the beefy agent.
“I don’t think I can do this.” My voice quivers. “I want out.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but you can’t have it. You come out of the woodwork now, you’ll be a lamb led to the slaughter. Let us protect you until your uncle is convicted and the Candellas know the truth.”
“You don’t think he can reach me after this is over?” I’m skeptical. “If he can kill a kid in cold blood, I doubt he’s going to forgive his niece for landing him in prison.”
“We’re going to start you over. We’re going to keep you safe. I promise. It’ll be a new life for you.”
I scoff. “With no family. Nothing.”
“Family doesn’t have to be blood to be family. You’ll find a new home, new people to love you…and you’ll have that beating heart I was talking about.”
His words make me think of Trey and the way he referred to his brothers. I don’t have anything left to say, so I hang up.
Rybeck won’t call back. He’ll probably shrug and roll over, back to sleep in his safe, warm bed.
I shiver and wrap my arms around myself.
I’m cold to my core.
Slipping out of my hiding space, I shuffle back to the dorms, stopped by the sight of a window. I stand beneath it, gazing up at the narrow opening and remembering the way Trey shoved me through it so we could go skating.
I landed in a heap next to the toilet.
The toilet.
In the locker room.
The locker room with showers. Hot, scalding showers that can wash away my angst, give me that small reprieve I’m so desperate for.
Crunching my teeth together, I look up at the narrow pane of glass. It’s just out of my grasp. I tell myself I’m getting in at all costs.
It takes me five attempts, but finally my scrambling feet and stick arms get me through that window. I fall through with the grace of an elephant and land on my hip with a thump.
It hurts, but I’m too focused on uninterrupted shower time to care.
No one will find me in this darkened space.
My secret will
be safe and I can finally get warm, get clean and maybe just for a microsecond feel like Ana again.
#18:
Understanding
Trey
I can’t sleep.
Hot lips are keeping me awake.
A soft, sensual tongue in my mouth.
I thump my covers and sit up, trying to rid myself of the memory. I kissed a guy…and I liked it.
Shoving the heel of my hand in my right eye, I mutter a string of curses, hoping not to wake the others. I have to get out of this room.
I have to run until my lungs are burning, breathe in icy cold air…do something to get rid of whatever the hell is going on inside of me.
I don’t want to be gay. Not because I think it’s wrong or whatever, I just… I didn’t think I batted for that team.
I’m pissed at Chris for kissing me. He crossed a line.
I should have pounded him, but how could I after I kissed him back?
I’m so confused right now my head is going to explode unless I do something physical.
Jumping out of bed, I pull on my shoes and head for the rink. I’ll skate laps until my legs give out.
It’s not close to dawn so I won’t get busted by the coach. I’ll just make sure I’m done and back in my room by four at the latest.
Mussing my hair, I grab my watch and accidentally knock Chris’s flashlight off the nightstand. I catch it just before it hits the floor. Riley starts to stir and I jump out of the room before he can open his eyes and catch me.
Creeping down the corridor, I use the light to guide my way down the steps and out into the fresh night air.
There’s a slight breeze. It’s icy and brutal. I should have grabbed a sweater. Hunching my shoulders against the cold blast, I run towards the rink, keeping an ear out for any foreign noises. No one’s around and I make it there unseen.
With a little jump and grunt, I pull myself through the bathroom window.
It’s weird how easily it opened.
I stare up at the glass, slightly confused until I hear the sound of water running.
My eyebrows knit. Who the hell is showering at this time of night?
I have the fleeting thought that maybe it’s Coach. But that’s dumb. The staff housing at Eton is lush. There’s no way he’d waste his time coming to the locker room.