The Bullies Who Loved Me

by Mia Belle

  We text a bit about other things, steering clear of Blake or the murder. We want to keep the chat light.

  I text Eric a little while later, and he tells me he’s fine. I haven’t spoken to him since yesterday and it seems he doesn’t want to talk to me.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Daphne

  School is buzzing with the news on Monday morning. The kids bombard Ryder and Caden, wanting to know if the video is real. Sure enough, it was leaked yesterday. Many people claim it’s fake, but the fact that Jackson is coming home from jail this afternoon proves it’s real.

  Eric’s not here. I wonder if he’ll show up today.

  Ryder pushes the kids away. “If anyone else asks me about the damn video, I’m going to punch you.”

  The kids falter back like they got slapped in the face. Then they vanish into different classrooms.

  Ryder grits his teeth as he slams open his locker. “I hate what they’re saying about him. Blake was a good guy. He just made a mistake.”

  “I think some people are pissed he tried to get away with it,” Caden says.

  Ryder frowns. “He wanted to tell the truth. Jackson didn’t let him. Why else did he make that video?”

  None of us answer.

  The doors open and Eric steps inside. The remaining kids in the hallway turn to him, surprised he came. I’m a little shocked, too.

  “Hey,” Caden says once he makes his way over to us. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine,” he mutters. His eyes move to me, asking if I told them about the job. I eye-signal him that I didn’t. I wish he’d tell them.

  Caden looks from me to Eric. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” Eric snaps. “I can’t believe I’m here.”

  “Why are you?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “Made a deal with Phoebe. She didn’t want to go to school, either. But I didn’t want her to stay home. She said she’d go if I go. So here I am.” He lightly bangs his fist on a locker. “She’s not going to have an easy time there.”

  “She’s got her friends, she’ll be fine,” Ryder assures him. “Phoebe’s tough. She can handle some asshole kids talking shit about Blake.”

  Eric doesn’t say anything.

  The bell rings and we separate to our classrooms. Eric and I have history together, and he reluctantly drags himself to the room. We take seats across each other, which causes lots of kids to whisper to one another.

  Eric glares at them, and they quickly shut their mouths. Even though his brother killed someone, Eric is still one of the Kings of Leighton High. I don’t think that title will ever be taken away from him.

  “Can I ask you something?” I say.

  He shrugs, playing on his phone.

  “Did you quit swimming because of the job or because of Blake?”

  He stops what he’s doing, his head slowly lifting to me. “What?”

  “Why did you quit the team? You had such a bright future.”

  He rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t have been as great as him.”

  “So you’d be as great as yourself. You could have gotten a scholarship, but you threw it all away. Why?”

  He glares at me. “Why are you so interested in my life all of a sudden? You should hate me.” He turns away, focusing on his phone.

  “But I don’t,” I find myself saying.

  He looks at me again. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”

  “I don’t. I just…”

  “You what?”

  “I care, but maybe I shouldn’t. You’re the one who made my life hell, so why should I care that you’re in pain?” I said that a little too loudly, but luckily the kids are busy talking amongst themselves.

  Eric studies me, but doesn’t say anything. Then he runs his hands down his face. “Sorry, I’m having a really shitty, day, so please don’t talk to me.” He drops his head on his desk, shutting me and the rest of the world out.

  ***

  I walk into the bathroom during lunch and find Avery, Amber, and Keira at the sink, touching up their makeup.

  She sneers at me as I go to one of the stalls. “Hey, bitch.”

  I ignore her.

  She reaches for my hand, yanking me to the sinks. Her friends grab my arms and haul me to the wall, locking me in place.

  Avery gets in my face, eyes blazing. “Not only did you lie about the murder, now you’re spreading fake videos that Blake killed that girl?”

  I try to pull free, but those stupid bitches have a tight hold. “I didn’t make that video. Blake did. He wanted the truth out there.”

  Her eyes narrow. “You’re such a damn stupid bitch. And now you’ll pay for spreading all those lies.”

  Her friends hold me tightly as she fists her hands. She aims for my face, but I’m quicker, slamming my head into hers. My head rings and my vision is spotty, but I see her cry out, holding her hand over her nose that’s dripping blood.

  “Look what you did, bitch!” she yells, aiming for me again. I’m too weak and disoriented to fight her off as she punches me in the stomach. I do manage to kick her leg, though not as strongly as I want.

  She drops to the floor, moaning in pain. Her friends look like they’re not sure if they should let go of me and help her.

  “Why do you care so much about Blake?” I manage to get out. “It’s not like he ever cared about you.”

  She slowly gets to her feet, wiping the blood from her nose. A wide grin settles on her face. “Of course he cared about me! We were together, dumbass. He was my boyfriend.”

  It all makes sense now. I assumed Avery bullied me because she was Ryder’s girlfriend, but now I see that she did it for Blake. She doesn’t care about Ryder.

  “And now I’m going to kill you for everything you did to him!” she continues. “He’s dead because of you.”

  She yells, fisting her hands and leaping toward me. I lift my leg as hard as I can, kicking her away.

  She slams into one of the bathroom stalls behind her, letting out another moan. Amber and Keira let go of me, dropping to her side.

  I push my hair out of my face as I glare down at her. “Think twice before messing with me.” I stalk to the door.

  “Better watch it, bitch,” she says, voice weak but determined. “Because I have friends in all the right places. You don’t want to mess with me.”

  I slam the door behind me, making my way to the cafeteria. I’m not scared of her, not one bit.

  Caden leaps to his feet the second he takes in my messy hair and clothes. “What happened?”

  Eric and Ryder look up from their food. Their eyes widen. Ryder fists his hands. “Who did that to you?”

  I slide in next to Caden. “Was nothing. Just Avery and her minions. I took care of them.”

  “Good,” Ryder says.

  “She threatened me, though. Said she has friends in all the right places and I need to watch out.”

  Ryder squints, thinking. “I have more friends in even more right places.” He wraps his arm around me. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

  I push his hand off. “I don’t need protection. I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, but still.”

  Caden tugs a container forward. “We ordered you food. And there’s also some of my grandma’s pie in there.”

  Her pies are amazing. Caden’s been bringing them to school and I seriously can’t get enough. I dig in.

  The four of us eat quietly. The whole cafeteria is quiet. I guess they’re still reeling from the news about Blake.

  “Did you know Avery and Blake were dating?” I ask as I finish up the pie.

  The guys look at one another. Eric’s forehead scrunches. “Are you sure? He wouldn’t go for a sophomore.”

  I shrug. “That’s what she told me. It’s why she tried to beat me up now and why she bullied me.”

  Ryder shakes his head in disbelief. “She’s been messing around with him all this time? She claimed she loved me. I knew it was bullshit. I never loved her and I never will.”
>
  “Dude, no one’s forcing you to marry her,” Eric says.

  Ryder frowns. “I know that. Still, that bitch had no right to be with another guy when she was supposedly with me.”

  “Forget about that,” Caden says. “We need to make sure she doesn’t hurt Daphne.”

  “I told you I’ll protect her,” Ryder says.

  “And I told you I don’t need protection,” I snap.

  They continue discussing it, like I’m not in the room. Whatever. They can plan all they want, but when it comes down to it, the only person who can protect me is me. I’m not going to wait around for some guy like a damsel in distress. I’ll just pretend to go along with whatever they want because I want the subject dropped.

  “…someone with her at all times,” Caden’s in the middle of saying. “Walk her to her class, to and from home.”

  The others nod, continuing the conversation.

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Are you done talking about me like I’m not in the room? Maybe next you’ll tell me what I can or can’t wear.”

  Ryder sighs. “Daphne, you have no idea who you’re dealing with. What rich people like Avery are capable of. Just let me handle it. My family is way more powerful than hers and I can threaten her far worse than she threatened you. Just please let me take care of it.”

  I give him a look like I’m not happy about it.

  Caden places his hand on my arm. “We just want to keep you safe, that’s all.”

  “I appreciate it. But I don’t want anyone taking care of me.”

  Ryder sighs again. “Daphne, please let me handle this. No one is saying you can’t protect yourself, but let me help.”

  “Fine.”

  Ryder sits back. “I’ll have eyes on Avery at all times,” he says. “There’s no way she’s hurting Daphne.”

  It looks like no matter what I do, the guys want to stick by my side. Maybe it’s about time I stop questioning it and start accepting it.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Eric

  I knock on Phoebe’s friend’s house, but her brother tells me Arielle’s mom already took my sister home. They left a few minutes ago. I thank him before taking off toward home.

  Phoebe had a hard day at school today and I want to talk to her about it, to be there for her.

  As soon as I walk inside, I find the house a mess. Dishes are shattered on the floor, furniture is flipped over.

  Dad’s not at the TV. I don’t even hear it on.

  There’s a shout in the distance and I bound toward the kitchen. Phoebe is pressed to the wall as Dad towers over her, grabbing her by the front of her shirt.

  “I didn’t do anything!” she shouts. Then her eyes widen when she sees me standing there. She tries to gesture for me to get lost, but there’s no way I’m leaving her.

  I leap onto Dad, shoving him away from her. “Get your damn hands off her.”

  He slams into the wall before crashing to the floor, unconscious. Phoebe runs into my arms. “He saw the news,” she whispers against my chest. “He found out about Blake. And he started acting all crazy, throwing stuff around. Then when I came home, he demanded to know why we started talking shit about our brother. Someone told the press it was you who gave the video to the cops. I think kids at your school overheard you talking about it or something.”

  I hold her close. “It’ll be okay.”

  Her tears intensify. “He’s going to get worse. I’m scared.”

  “I’ll protect you,” I say. “No matter what happens, I’ll always protect you.”

  Her body relaxes slightly as she lets me hug her tightly. I’m about to tell her more encouraging words, when she’s snatched away from me, ramming headfirst into the wall.

  “Phoebe!” I’m about to run to her, when Dad stands in my face, eyes raging mad, face red and twisted in different directions.

  “Do whatever the hell you want with me,” I say, trying to keep myself strong, but I’m crumbling inside. “But let me check if she’s okay.”

  He has a wicked gleam in his eye. I can’t believe I once called him Dad, that the look meant something different years ago. His face used to be happy and relaxed. Now it’s monstrous.

  He holds up a large knife he must have had hidden in his pocket. “I never liked you kids,” he snarls. “Never wanted you. It was your mother…” His eyes shut for a second like he’s got an ounce of emotion left inside him. It quickly vanishes. “She wanted you. I was happy with Blake. He was my pride and joy. But you two?” He shakes his head. “Always hated you. Never wanted you. Wish you were dead instead of him.” He glances down at the knife, his grin growing even more evil. “And today, you will be.”

  With my heart pounding I stare down at the knife. Then my eyes move to Phoebe on the floor. She’s stirring, her eyes fluttering open.

  Dad follows my gaze, his mouth curling into a smirk. He makes a move for Phoebe, but I lunge in front of him. Pain explodes through me as the knife cuts into my back.

  I don’t care about the pain. With as much strength as I can, I leap to Phoebe and throw myself over her. Dad comes at us like a pissed-off bull. I stare into eyes that hold nothing but rage and emptiness.

  The last thing I see before everything goes black is my sister’s terrified eyes.

  Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this book, please leave a positive review on Amazon or email me at authormiabelle@gmail.com.

  Book two will be available soon! For updates on new releases, please follow me on Facebook and Twitter @AuthorMiaBelle and click on the “follow” button on my Amazon author page here.

  –Mia Belle

  Check out my other young adult romance titles:

  Read on for an excerpt from Rich Boys Poor Girl, available now.

  This isn’t a house. It’s a palace.

  As I weave through the plethora of guests, balancing a tray on my palm and offering hors d’oeuvres I can’t even pronounce, my gaze roams around the ballroom. My mouth practically reaches the floor, my brain trying to comprehend that people actually live this way.

  Chandeliers are suspended from the ceiling, their crystals sparkling across the walls and bouncing off the expensive jewelry on the guests. The marble floor is so polished I can practically see my reflection. The tables are set with crisp white, elegant tablecloths, the dishes and utensils glittering, and the guests are dressed in their finest.

  We’ve catered to the wealthy before, but this is a whole other ball game.

  And the guest of honor? None other than sixteen-year-old Declan Worthington, the sole heir to the Worthington Empire. His dad is Asher Worthington, the richest man alive. He owns practically the whole world, no joke. From hotels chains to tech companies, sports team, international enterprises, you name it.

  It seems he couldn’t make it to his only son’s birthday party, hence the new entertainment system at the corner of the room, still wrapped in its blue bow.

  Declan Worthington is at the center of the ballroom, chatting to a man three times his age. His hands are stuffed into his expensive black slacks, his head twisted to the side like he’d rather run himself over ten times than listen to the older man. His russet-colored hair falls over his face in the perfect bad boy fashion.

  “Danica,” a voice hisses from behind me. When I turn around, I spot Andy, my boss and owner of Loew’s Catering, tilting his head toward Declan. “Offer him some food. You’re here to work, not ogle the main attraction.”

  Trying not to roll my eyes, I salute before making my way over to Declan and the older man. I hold out the tray, plastering on a smile equal to the value of this palace.

  Declan hardly looks my way, choosing to focus on the man standing before him as though he’s the most important person in the world. It’s almost like I’m not worthy enough to be acknowledged, like I’m the scum beneath his expensive shoes. All because I’m part of the working class.

  “Something to eat?” I say, sliding the tray a bit closer to him and widening my million-watt sm
ile. Flicking his hair from his face, the guy still doesn’t look my way. I might as well be wallpaper, except my plain pale yellow server uniform would totally ruin the elegant design.

  I shift the tray toward the older man. “Sir?”

  He offers me a thankful smile, says “Oh, no thank you, dear” before turning back to Declan, who’s now wearing an irritated expression on his face.

  “What your father and I discussed…” the older man continues.

  His words fly over my head, my focus on the rich guy standing only inches from me. I’ve never really gotten a good look at him, since my nose isn’t buried in the magazines kids at school obsess over. But damn, he’s hot. A thousand degrees. Seriously, you can probably boil an egg on his face—and get some yummy flavor, too. The guy’s got it all: looks, money, and a shit-tone of charisma. It oozes out of him just by standing there and rolling his eyes at the older man. And his tall body dressed in that pressed black suit and slacks only add points in his favor.

  Why are rich people always good-looking? So unfair.

  Declan’s head suddenly snaps to mine. “Is there a reason you’re still here?”

  I catch my boss Andy eye-signaling me to get my ass away from there. As a server, my job is to serve. Not to stare at the heir to the Worthington Empire.

  Tossing Declan and the older man another million-watt smile, I scurry away, careful not to lose hold of the tray, which, by the way, is still full of hors d’oeuvres.

  “What was that?” Andy hisses, catching the tray before it splatters to the floor. His eyes flick behind me, and when I spin around I catch Declan’s striking blue eyes on mine. For a second only. I bet he thought I’d trip and fall, providing entertainment for this bummer of a party. Sure the people are eating and dancing, but no one really seems to want to be here.

  “Nothing.” I shrug. “I’m here to work.”

  “You bet you are. Get back out there.”

  I do my rounds, steering clear of the guy of the hour and exchanging smiles with the other servers, whom haven’t either worked in such a setting. Some of the guests are thankful for the food so they don’t have to stand there bored out of their minds. A part of me feels a little sorry for the guy. Are all his birthday parties like this? Where are his friends?