Cruel Boys

by Nora Cobb

  He shrugs. “I doubt it’s been wilder than mine.”

  I shake my head. “Just so you know. Right now, you’re cool. So what’s your worst story?”

  He shrugs. “My mom’s death.”

  That kills the conversation. My stint in rehab can’t top it. And it’s not a competition to tell the saddest or the meanest. But I want to know if this is why he’s lashing out at me.

  “How long ago?” I ask.

  “Right before I came here. She was sick, and I wanted to stay home. She insisted that I go.” Dom pauses. “I don’t think she wanted me to see her die.”

  Those words shake me. My brother Troy said the same thing to me: he wasn’t going to do nothing and watch me die. He hated those kids at Montlake, especially the girls. I wasn’t there yet, but we hung in the same circles. What is it about middle school that makes kids compete to be the nastiest fuck-ups?

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Dom.” I sigh. “I really am.”

  I say nothing. His hands are clasped over his knees. Our hands are almost touching. I crush the cigarette out on the ground under my heel. My fingers barely touch his. I let my finger graze the side of his hand, and then I hook my pinkie finger around his. He tightens his hand, holding my fingers in his. But Dom doesn’t look at me. He stares at a tall pine straight ahead.

  “So who am I dealing with today?” I whisper. “The boy I met in Malibu or the jerk that hates me?”

  “They’re both me. I’m Dom.”

  “So, every time I see you, I have to ask?”

  He looks at me. “I like you like this. This is the girl I met in Malibu. Not that poser who showed up at Redwood.”

  I bristle in a flash. “You really think I’m a poser.”

  He lets go of my hand as if touching me disgusts him. “I’ve seen you before. The girls with the hard shell, waiting for some guy to crack them. And then they trap the boy.”

  “Is that what you think of me? Well, go fuck yourself. Because if you’re waiting on me, you’re going to die alone and disappointed.”

  Dom stares hard at me, and I brace myself for the worst. I hold my breath, waiting for the verbal abuse to start. I am determined that if he digs into me, I’ll dig deeper into him. My hands tighten on the edge of the curb, and my shoulders hunch as I eye him hard. I’m not the prey. I’m ready to lash out like the hunter. I’m through with playing tough. I’m ready to fight back.

  Dom reaches for me, and my body tenses. He grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me into a deep kiss. My body goes soft; all the tension is released as his lips crush mine. My arms wrap around his body as he pulls me in tighter. My breasts press against his hard chest as my skin tingles. Electricity races through my nerves as his tongue swipes across my lips. I moan as my lips willingly part. And I press myself against his strong arms.

  Fuck.

  I wanted to tell him off, not make out behind the school. I squeeze my hands in between us, and I try to push him away. I push, but he has a tight grip on me. I sigh as his lips nuzzle into the bend of my neck. My hands grip his shirt and hold it tight in my fists.

  “That was nice,” he moans as his hand leaves my waist and trails along the sides of my body.

  He pulls away for a second, his gaze hazy, and it locks on mine. His hand slips into my long shirt, and he starts to push it down. My mind spins into alarm. I grab my shirt and yank it back, wrapping it tight around me. Dom looks at me, his face contorted in lust and confusion. I look away, staring into the woods. He follows my gaze as I pull away.

  I glance over at him, and he leans away. The mask is firmly back in place.

  “You don’t trust me, do you?” he says.

  “No, I don’t.” I ease my grip on my shirt when I hear threads break. My hands are trembling. I look at him, and he’s staring at my clenched fist. The cool fabric feels hot on my skin as I pull it around me. He can never see the track marks on my arm.

  I find my voice first. “The good experiences don’t outweigh the bad ones with us.”

  “Does that count as good or bad?”

  I look down at the ground, my voice quiet. “It was good.”

  “Was it from the boy from Malibu or the jerk from Redwood?”

  “I’ll have to see who shows up next time we speak.”

  Dom looks at me, and I meet his gaze with my emotions under control. “I don’t kiss like that for fun,” he says. “I trust you, Vicki. Because you’re shit at hiding your emotions. I see that now.”

  I smile and tap his shoulder with my fist. “You owe me a pack of cigarettes.”

  “I wasn’t expecting us to talk like this,” he says. “So, who do you think I am now?”

  I lower my lashes. “I’m not sure.” I look up. “I can’t tell yet.”

  ***

  I didn’t tell Luna about Chase, but I can barely wait to tell her about Dom.

  “He kissed you?” she squeals and spins around, a shirt from my closet in her hands.

  I nod as I pick at the duvet cover on my bed.

  “So, he voted for you because he likes you,” she smiles. “That makes complete sense.”

  “Does it?” I sound skeptical.

  “Two hot people coming together. It’s like science. You know the chemistry is there.”

  I laugh, combing my hair in the makeup mirror. Luna helped me lighten the roots, which are coming in darker. “You think I should go honey blonde next time?”

  “It would be healthier for your hair. No one goes light blonde unless they’re from Jersey.”

  I toss a pillow at her. “The Jersey jokes are running thin. You need new material or drop it from the act.”

  Luna appraises me. “We still have work to do. My goal is to make you look boho but without the cheesy prints and those disastrous cutoffs.”

  “Have you ever thought of working in fashion design? Theo could help you with the illustrations. Where is he nowadays?”

  “With his Australian,” she drawls, “Do you know he let him cut his hair and not me? I’m barely talking to Theo because of it.”

  “How long will that relationship last?” I ask. “What do you think about his playmate?”

  Luna looks around as if someone can hear. My dad could care less unless we’re talking start-ups in my bedroom.

  “I don’t like him,” she says. “The guy doesn’t make eye contact.”

  I nod my head fast. “And they only seem to have sex.”

  “When they’re in public,” says Luna, “Theo follows him around like a puppy desperate for a belly rub. But that boy looks over his head like he’s searching for someone else to have a conversation with.”

  I agree, nodding with my entire body as I bounce on the bed. “He does, but I don’t know how Theo would take hearing the truth.”

  “You can’t talk to him about it,” she replies. “I was there a couple of days ago, modeling in his room. The guy kept staring at me. It was weird. I told him I didn’t want him using his phone.”

  “Do you think he was taking pictures?”

  Luna shrugs. “I told Theo I’d only pose in private. It’s been a few days since he called me.” She looks in the wall mirror and brushes a strand of hair out of her eye. “So, what about you and Dom? Am I going to lose another friend to love?”

  “We’re not going there. He’s been an asshole. It doesn’t matter that he voted for me.” Luna is right though. I felt the chemistry in that kiss. But I also heard a warning screaming at full volume inside my head.

  My phone chimes, ending our conversation, which seems to please Luna, who’s raiding my closet. She’s tossing my clothes into a pile while trying on other pieces and admiring her long smooth legs. She whispers to herself that she can rock this. I love her like a sister, and now she’s acting like one.

  Speaking of siblings…

  I answer my phone. “Hey, Troy.”

  “Hey, Vic. What’s happening on the worst coast?”

  “Hanging on in sunny CA. And in gray New York?’

 
Troy laughs, and I can hear a baby screeching in the background. I really wish I was there to see my brother change a diaper. Knowing him, he probably does it infuriatingly perfectly, with straight lines and matching corners.

  “Let me go into another room.” A door shuts, and his voice loses the light tone. “Vicki, I’ve been looking into those guys you were asking about. How tied up are you with them?”

  An image of that kiss flashes in my mind. “I’m still on their radar.”

  “Well, try to get off it.”

  A chill runs down my spine like I’ve been hit with ice water. “What’s wrong?”

  Troy sighs. “Dominic Vaughn has an uncle called Spear. He’s a nomad.”

  “What’s that?”

  “An enforcer who belongs to an outlaw motorcycle club, but not to a chapter. He’s loyal to the mother club, his brother Mel, and his nephew Dom. He makes litigious people disappear on the highway. With me so far?”

  I nod even though he can’t see me, and Troy continues.

  “Chase Evans. His parents’ modeling agency is a front. Eighty percent is legit, but the rest is porn. Ten years ago, they bought up more or less all the adult sites they could get their hands on. They make very little money on legit business, but their name still holds charisma from the old days. But insiders know what they really do.”

  “His parents are in a messy divorce,” I reply.

  “They have separate lives and houses. Seems the mother likes to party. I couldn’t find anything bad on the brother.”

  “He has a brother?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I’ll keep looking. And Silas Vinson has a long history of drug abuse. After his career dried up, he got pimped out. His record was suppressed because he was a minor. Not anymore.”

  “What?” I gawk.

  “His older sister Fiona is his agent. Or his pimp, depending on who you ask. He doesn’t want to act. Not at that price. Vicki, you need to stay away from those boys. They’re beyond broken. Promise me you’ll turn your back and ignore them.”

  “I’ll try,” I say weakly.

  “No, trying isn’t the way to play this.” A familiar iron slips into Troy’s voice, and it takes me a moment before I realize he sounds just like Dad. “You forget that you know them, and you keep them as far away from you as possible.” Troy pauses. “You need to tell Dad.”

  “Okay, I will.” My voice is less than convincing.

  “I’ll call you in a few days.”

  “Thanks, Troy. Love you.”

  “Love you too, kiddo, and I’m here for you,” he says. “Don’t let distance be an excuse.”

  I end the call and stare at my Edie poster. They broke her too.

  “Vicki?” Luna is holding a silver dress to her body, but she’s not focused on it. Her attention is solely on me. Her forehead wrinkles into worry lines. “You okay?” she whispers.

  I nod, but my throat is too tight to speak.

  “No you’re not.” She shakes her head and pulls me into a hug. “You’re trembling.”

  I let myself fall into Luna’s embrace, silently thankful that she can’t see my tears.

  Chapter Eighteen

  In the end, Dom won’t tell me what’s coming, and that’s why I didn’t know who was kissing me. He doesn’t tell me, but I know the minute it starts. It’s weirdly quiet before the shitstorm hits the fan. If losing the election wasn’t enough, I now have three hundred and sixteen people telling me to go fuck myself. They must think I don’t notice the hateful stares because the actions get louder. Shit looks equal shitty moves. I can ignore rude looks, I convince myself; it’s better than being ignored. But honestly, there’s comfort under the radar.

  “Hi, Rosie.”

  She presses her lips together, half smiles, and nothing else.

  “You’re going to ignore me now too?” I play off that I stole her spot in the club, sticking her with the group doing envy.

  “Victoria,” she says it loud, and it hangs in the air.

  “It’s Vicki. And you know that.”

  She gives the girl standing next to her a knowing look. “I’m busy.” And they walk off.

  Good thing that bitch ended up with envy. The club will ace that short piece. I don’t take any more chances with lockers and projects. I lock my stuff in my trunk and carry copies of my projects on a hard disk. When my next project is due in Video, I hand Marcy a CD.

  “Going old school,” she smiles and gets a few chuckles for the class. “Let’s hope this old thing plays.”

  “I like playing with old things. More than like, actually.” I give her enough time to let the words sink in. “I love it.”

  She just looks at me for a second and then concentrates on the machine. Why should I feel uncomfortable? I wasn’t the one stretched out on a desk, playing grab-ass with a student who’s young enough to be her kid. Let her know I’m onto her. Troy warned me to ignore them, but I’m not going to be picked on either. Especially not by these sorry people. One girl rolls her eyes and makes a comment on seeing another botany video.

  I turn and glare at her. “Oh don’t worry. You’ll never have to worry about syndication.”

  She screws up her lips and shuts her mouth. Exactly. Maybe I should avoid the boys, but the rest of them can go to hell, and I will lead the way. We can skip and sing as the coals singe the soles of our feet. These lazy, pampered shits don’t want this as bad as me.

  I’m trying to quit, but by lunchtime, I need a smoke. I can’t remember if I have a pack in my purse or in my car. I start walking across campus as I dig through my purse. Great, I find a pack I haven’t opened. I’m too stressed to hide behind the school first as I tear open the pack. Something nudges my mind, but I’ll think about it after I light up.

  I’m blinded by a flash, then a hiss deafens me as something hot shoots past my ear. I start to scream as the heat intensifies. Someone or something pushes me to the ground, and I hear shouts circling me. My head is covered with a shirt, and the heat turns into a searing pain. I think I’ve been burned.

  “Vicki? Vicki! Are you okay?”

  I stretch out my arm, but I don’t answer. Then I’m lifted off the ground. The person holding me is running as I feel the hard bounce of their steps hit the pavement. I won’t open my eyes. I just cling to the arms wrapped around me, wishing this was over since I can’t go back in time.

  I’m lying on a bed as a hand pries my hands off my face. I open my eyes slowly and look around at a pristine examination room. I didn’t know we had a school nurse. He’s seated on a stool, frowning hard into my face.

  “The skin is pink.” His thumb swipes my cheek softly. “Looks like soot. It singed your hair.” He turned his attention to Chase and Rosie, who stand behind him. She clutches my purse in her hands as she stares in horror. Wide-eyed, she’s shaking her head but can’t form words. Chase is scowling, and his complexion is pale as Rosie tries to explain.

  “She lit a cigarette, and it exploded in her face.”

  The nurse frowns. “What do you mean by exploded?”

  Rosie starts to cry. “Like a rocket. Sparks everywhere. Just covering her face. Like a firework. It sparkled and hissed. I didn’t know. I didn’t…”

  Chase places a hand on Rosie’s shoulder, and she winces, showing her teeth as she tugs herself out of his grip. She starts to cry harder, her words choked out by sobs.

  “Maybe it was her lighter,” replies Chase calmly.

  I understand now what nudged at me when I pulled out the pack of cigarettes. The cellophane was missing. It was a new pack, but someone had opened it. It wasn’t me. My feet and hands feel so cold, and I start to tremble. I roll into a fetal position and start to shake. I feel so cold. Gradually, my body expresses what my mind denies:

  What I so eagerly sought out—the emotion that I mistook for excitement—was something else entirely.

  Fear.

  I’ve been deathly afraid of these boys without even realizing it.

  “She’s experiencing shock.” T
he nurse turns me on my back and elevates my feet. “Hand me that blanket.”

  Chase moves forward, opening the blanket, but the nurse takes it out of his hands. The nurse wraps me up tight as my body shakes. “I need the two of you out,” he orders.

  “No,” says Chase. “I’m staying.”

  The nurse loses his patience as Rosie wails. “You cannot stay here. Out now, and take her with you.”