The Bullies Who Loved Me

by Mia Belle

  The rest of the day goes by normally, except a few girls laugh at me behind my back, some glare. A guy snickers as he scans me from top to bottom, not checking me out—his goal is to make me feel ugly. I know I’m not the prettiest girl in the world, but I’ve never seen myself as ugly.

  I pretend to ignore them, but it’s hard to focus on class when practically the entire school treats me worse than shit.

  But like I said, I won’t let them run me away.

  When detention is over, I walk home, keeping my head high. As far as I’m concerned, these jerks don’t exist. I go to school to get a good education and carve a future for myself. Everyone else can screw off.

  “Pigget!” a voice calls from behind. I don’t need to turn around to know who that snotty voice belongs to. She’s probably done with cheerleading practice and followed me.

  She continues calling me, but I ignore her, heading for Mom’s diner.

  “Hey!”

  Something slams me in the back of my head and I fall forward. It’s a shoe? Not just any shoe, a four-inch high heeled one.

  I whirl around. “Are you insane? That could have hurt me!”

  Avery presses her hands to her heart, eyes wide. “Really? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” Amber and Keira chuckle.

  I pick the damn shoe off the ground and hurl it at her. But unlike the bitch, I make sure not to aim for her face or anywhere she can get hurt.

  She shrugs. “I was giving you a gift. God knows you need better shoes. Do Mommy and Daddy not make enough money?” She pouts. “Is that why you wear the same outfit every day?”

  I glare at her, not bothering to dignify that with a response. Turning around, I continue walking to the diner.

  “Pigget!”

  I face her. “Get the hell away from me, Avery.”

  Her hands shoot to her hips. “Or what? You’ll tell Mommy?” She taps her chin. “I wonder what she’ll say when she learns you’re treating her best customer like shit.”

  I grit my teeth.

  She gives me a wide smile. “Take the shoes, bitch.”

  Right. I’m sure she tampered with them or something. Another way to humiliate me, for sure. “Go to hell.”

  “Oooh,” she says and her friends echo her. “I’m so scared of you.” Her eyes gleam. “See you tomorrow, piggy. Unless you do yourself a favor and leave our school. Eric, Ryder, and Caden can’t stand the sight of you. And neither can we, so why the hell haven’t you transferred yet? I mean, I don’t care what happens to you, but you might want to protect yourself.”

  I roll my eyes, laughing lightly to show her she doesn’t scare me. “Nothing you or they can say will drive me away.”

  “We’ll see who has the last laugh,” she calls after me as I turn the corner toward the diner. I shove all that crap aside and paste on a huge smile for Mom and the customers.

  Chapter Ten

  Ryder

  All the guys on the swim team gather in the locker room for a last-minute pep talk from Coach. I catch Caden glancing at the spot next to him, where Eric should be. I focus on the space at the front of the room, right near Coach. That was Blake’s space. Coach would let him take care of the pep talk because he was good at that. He cared about the sport and each one of us. He was just a good person.

  Eric used to be the same, but everything’s changed now.

  The walls of the locker room are so thin I can hear the spectators talking in the pool room. This is our biggest competition of the season, against our rival school from a few towns over. Our swim team, the Leighton High Whales, used to be shit before Blake joined his freshmen year. He transformed the Whales into something the school and our town could be proud of. And now he’s not here to enjoy the fruits of his labor. No, his last few weeks on this planet were hell. With the questioning from the cops, the digging into his life, his rejection from the college of his dreams. It’s no wonder he killed himself. Everything he’d worked for was taken away in a split second.

  I don’t have a lot going in my life—other than being heir to the Kensington Empire—but I have my friends. I have swimming. But is that enough? Like I told Caden, if swimming doesn’t work out, where does that leave me? To inherit a business I don’t want? To marry a girl who makes me want to punch a wall?

  Caden places his hand on my arm. “You good?”

  I snap out of my thoughts. “Just thinking.”

  “About?”

  I shrug. He knows I’m not the kind of person who pours his heart out to anyone. Truth is, I usually keep everything inside. No point in dragging people—even my best friends—into my problems. Besides, Eric and Caden could never understand my life and what’s expected of me.

  At least when I swim, it’s just me and the water, not my dad and the future he laid out for me.

  Coach’s still talking, but neither Caden nor I are really listening. I’m busy with my thoughts. Caden looks a little worried or bothered about something. Damn, I hope he’s still not feeling sorry for Daphne. She’s tougher than she looks and can take it. Besides, we need her gone.

  “I’m going to the doctor tomorrow,” Caden tells me.

  “That’s what’s got you so worried? You’ve been in remission for years.”

  He nods, eyes on the wall before him. “There’s always a chance the cancer will come back. I’ve been…” He puffs his cheeks. “I’ve been feeling a little tired lately.”

  “It’s swimming season.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s not that.” He sighs. “I can’t put my grandparents through that again.”

  “Your grandparents? What about you?”

  He averts his gaze, shrugging. He was only a kid when he got cancer, and his parents died a few years before that. So yeah, it took a toll on his grandparents. But they’re good, strong, amazing people. They’ve always tried to make sure Caden was happy, even without having parents.

  I swallow the rock lodged in my throat. What I’d give to have parents—even grandparents—who actually gave a damn about me, not my future as the heir to the Kensington Empire.

  I rest my hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be fine.”

  He’s trying to be hopeful and confident, but the worry tears him apart from inside. Coach still goes on and on about how much he expects from us, but the important thing is to have fun.

  “Are your grandparents coming to the meet?” I ask.

  “They’re probably already here.”

  Of course. Because what parent chooses not to support their kid in something they’re passionate about? Oh right, Gerald and Gwendlyn Kensington.

  Caden must know where my thoughts are because he gives me an encouraging smile. When we were younger, I used to complain to my friends how much it hurt that my parents didn’t give a damn about my dreams. Eric’s mom supported him even when he was five and we had those kiddy competitions at the community pool. I know she’d be here today if she were alive.

  It was the same with his dad—he never missed a meet. But ever since Blake died, his dad’s been working crazy hours and he hardly sees his kids or has time for anything fun.

  Coach slaps his hands together before telling us to get our asses out there. The crowd goes wild as we take our spots.

  I do a quick scan of the spectators. Why do I even bother? Of course they’re not here.

  My eyes zero in on a twelve-year-old kid sitting on one of the bleachers at the back. Phoebe’s here? I search for Eric, but don’t find him anywhere. Hmm. Even he’s not here to support his best friends? I know he quit the team and I get it, but the least he could do is cheer us on.

  We get into position, wait for the signal, then leap into the water.

  All the worries and crap in my life vanishes. It’s me, the water, my teammates.

  It’s where I belong.

  Chapter Eleven

  Daphne

  I don’t know how she does this, but somehow Zoe talked me into coming to the swim meet. She and I used to watch them all the time—namely becau
se she loved seeing the Kings without their shirts on. And while yes, they’re super hot, I came to support the team.

  I figure there will be so many people there, the kids won’t bother me. And maybe, just maybe they’ll see me here, supporting their precious Kings, and leave me alone? Is that wishful thinking?

  Zoe had something to take care of and told me to meet her at the pool. I lower myself on the bleachers toward the front, kind of isolating myself from the other kids in case they do decide to start up with me.

  I glance around. The place is packed and noisy. This is one of the biggest meets of the season, so of course everyone wants a peek at it. I notice a few men and women in suits. Recruiters?

  Avery and her minions sit at the back, taking selfies and posting them on social media. I can hear them giggling and chatting all the way from here.

  I miss that—friendship. I’m glad Zoe convinced me to come. It’ll be like old times.

  I watch the activity around me as I wait. It’s been half an hour and Zoe still hasn’t shown up.

  Pulling out my mom’s phone, I send my best friend a text. I’d use my phone, but it was stolen.

  Mom and Dad weren’t happy when I told them I lost it. I lied, telling them it fell into the sewer and there was no way I could get it out. Since they can’t afford a new one right now, I took Mom’s and she took my old one. It hardly moves, but she doesn’t use cell phones as much as I do.

  The phone chimes with a tune from one of Mom’s favorite horror movies. Right, I forgot I put that there when she got this phone two years ago.

  Pulling it out of my pocket, I scan the semi-cracked screen. Mom dropped it once or twice or a million times.

  The text is from Zoe.

  Sorry! Can’t make it to the meet. Some kids from my school and I need to work on a project that’s due tomorrow.

  Great. So much for spending time together. I hate that we’re so distanced. I mean, soon we’ll go off to college and won’t see each other. The least we could have is our last few years of high school together.

  I don’t blame her mom, though, not really. The kids at my school are crazy assholes. Maybe she did something good by pulling her daughter out.

  I’ve thought about telling Zoe the truth, since I really hate keeping secrets from her. But I decided I wouldn’t be able to get the words out. She’d worry, and one thing I hate is making people worry about me. I could handle anything those jerks throw at me, but my best friend, can’t. She hates fights and confrontations.

  The competition is about to begin. Should I stay or go? Since I’m here, I might as well enjoy the swim meet, but I feel someone shooting daggers at me. Thinking it’s Eric, I turn to the left, only to discover Avery. Eric doesn’t seem to be here. Everyone knows he quit the team, but why’s he not here for his friends? Is it because of his brother? Maybe he doesn’t want anything to do with the sport.

  Why the hell do I even care? That guy is my biggest enemy right now.

  And I don’t care what he said yesterday. I didn’t cause his brother’s death.

  The swimmers emerge from the locker room, cheering and waving their arms. The entire crowd cheers along with them.

  I spot the two Kings, looking so ripped it’s ridiculous. Why do the good looking ones have to be such assholes?

  The girls squeal and giggle, chanting Ryder and Caden’s names. A few call the other guys on the team, though it’s little pathetic in comparison to the Kings. I don’t know much about the rest of the team, but they’ve joined Eric’s quest to make my life a living hell.

  Why am I even here supporting these assholes?

  Someone sounds the signal and the swimmers launch into the water. They zoom from one end of the pool to the other like their lives depend on it.

  I’m enjoying the show, forgetting who these swimmers are and what they did to me, when someone plops down in the seat next to me.

  “Wow, this view is so much better than back there. Go Ryder! Go Caden! Go Whales!”

  When I turn to the left, I see Phoebe Alexander sitting there. Eric’s little sister.

  I don’t know her well, just from around town. We’ve never spoken, but our eyes met at Blake’s funeral before Eric and his friends threw me out.

  She has to know her brother hates me. Is that why she’s sitting here? To follow in Eric’s footsteps?

  “I love watching them swim,” she tells me before jumping to her feet and clapping. “You got this!”

  I just stare at her. Does she not remember who I am? That according to her brother, Blake killed himself because of me?

  Her smile drops as her face grows serious. “I know who you are. You told the cops my brother killed that girl.”

  I swallow, looking away. “Did Eric send you?”

  “Send me for what? I just came to watch the game.” She frowns. “It’s too bad Eric quit.”

  “Wait a second. I’m confused. Why are you talking to me? Don’t you hate me?”

  She sighs, her cheeks puffing up like a blowfish. “I don’t really know what happened that night. I don’t think you lied, like Eric said. I just think you told the cops what you saw. Maybe it was dark and you got confused and you couldn’t really see who killed that girl. But I know you didn’t purposely accuse my brother.” Her face looks earnest and kind, not like she came here to torment me. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions?

  I rub the goosebumps that have popped up on my arms as I think back to that awful night “You should probably go back to your seat before someone catches you sitting here.”

  She blinks at me. “What do you mean?”

  I guess Eric hasn’t told her how he spends his days inventing new ways to torture me. “Never mind.”

  She studies me for a little bit. “You were confused, right? I mean, there’s no way my brother killed anyone. Right?”

  I try to swallow, but cotton is wedged in my throat. What should I do? Tell her that I was definitely not confused?

  She doesn’t seem to be waiting for an answer, or maybe she’s too distracted with the competition. She cheers along with the others, a smile on her face. But there’s something weird about that smile. It’s empty, and her eyes have a sort of sadness to them that I don’t think is because of her dead brother.

  She catches me watching her and narrows her eyes. “What?”

  I shake my head. I was probably imagining it. “Why isn’t your brother here?”

  She shrugs.

  Again, why the hell do I care where he is?

  The Whales win, and Ryder announces that there will be a celebratory party at his house and everyone is invited. Yeah, no thanks.

  Everyone starts to fizzle out. Phoebe stands, stretching her arms and legs. “That was a fun meet. It really sucks Eric quit.” From the look in her eyes, I know she’s adding, “And it sucks Blake will never swim again.”

  I really don’t want to deal with this. I could handle Eric, but I can’t stand seeing the pain on his sister’s face. Was I wrong to tell the truth? Should I have gone along with everyone else’s lies?

  I make my way to the exit, my thoughts a mess. Jackson, Blake’s best friend and worshipper, confessed to the crime I know he didn’t commit. Should I have kept my mouth shut?

  Blake would still be here. Eric wouldn’t seek revenge. I wouldn’t walk down the halls with a target on my back. Phoebe wouldn’t have the pain consuming her.

  I shake my head. No. I stood for truth and justice. I saw what I saw.

  Chapter Twelve

  Eric

  I stare at my phone, rereading the text Ryder just sent me: Phoebe’s sitting near Pigget at the meet.

  What the hell? First of all, what’s Phoebe doing there? I told her not to go to the meets because it’s too painful. And second, why the hell is she sitting near the person who destroyed our life?

  I’d march to school and tear her away from the bitch, but I’m at work, sneaking in glances at my phone. Hal’s been cooped up in his office for hours, but I still can’t get caug
ht breaking the rules. I’m already paying for the snow globes. I can’t lose more from my paycheck.

  So far Dad hasn’t found out about my job and the money is safe in a shoebox deep in my closet. I hope he never comes across it. Luckily, he sits on his ass all day and doesn’t take care of the cleaning or laundry. Phoebe and I split the chores.

  I get through the day, then take the bus home. It’s noisy and crowded and I’m tired and all I want to do is roll into my damn bed. But I need to go to the store and buy some food for us. Then I’ve got to make dinner or else Dad will throw some more bottles around. I’m glad Phoebe was at the meet and not home with him, but I don’t want her talking to Daphne Pickett. For all I know, Daphne will use her as a way to get to me.

  After I’m done shopping, I barge into the house, slamming the bags on the counter and looking around. Dad’s snoring in front of the TV, four beer bottles rolling around his feet.

  I put the groceries away, then climb the stairs to Phoebe’s room. She’s sprawled on the bed, earbuds in her ears as she bobs her head to the beat of the music. She’s got the volume on very high to tune out Dad’s bitching.

  I drop down on her bed, arms crossed over my chest, eyes pinned on her. She sits up, slowing dragging the earbuds out. “What happened?”

  “You tell me. What the hell were you doing talking to Daphne Pickett?”

  She’s quiet for a few seconds, then shrugs. “There wasn’t anywhere else to sit.”

  “Bullshit. Ryder told me he saw you sitting far from her and sometime during the meet you moved up. You purposely sat next to her.”

  She throws her hands up. “I didn’t do it purposely. I couldn’t see from where I sat, so I moved up. No one was sitting next to her, so it’s not like I took anyone’s seat. Why are you making such a big deal about it?”

  I grit my teeth, counting to ten because I do not want to yell at her. She gets that enough from Dad. “You know she’s the reason Blake’s dead.”

  She purses her lips. “Eric.” She sighs, tears flashing in her eyes. “He’s dead because he killed…he killed himself.” Her lower lip trembles before the tears run down her cheeks like rainfall.