by L. J. Woods
“What’s Marion doing with Cindy?” The question comes out of my mouth like I’d plucked it out of my head.
Allie shrugs, following my gaze. “Who the fuck knows? We didn’t even know King had an aunt, or any family for that matter, until yesterday.”
Marion takes a small cup from the barista before she takes long strides to the door, a big furry scarf around her shoulders. She spots us as she leaves, locking eyes with me. Her thin eyebrows lower before a tight smile comes across her face. Marion pushes through the doors like she owns the joint before I watch her get into a limo without a care in the world.
Do you ever get a bad vibe from someone? That’s the feeling I get when I look at Marion.
“Speaking of family,” Allie pauses, her words pulling me out of my gaze. “What’s the deal with you and my brother?”
I choke on my sip of coffee, sitting up. “What? There’s no deal.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna threaten you or anything.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll have your back before his any day.”
“There’s no need to worry about picking sides,” I say between coughs. “Nothing is going on.”
“Not like with you and Damien?” She brings her cup to her purple painted lips, her glasses over the rim like she’s here for the tea.
“I don’t know if there is a ‘me and Damien’.” My voice comes out quiet, and I hate the feeling I get inside when I say that. I clear my throat, stopping the shake in my voice. Why does he have that effect on me? “He was pretty hostile yesterday.”
“Isn’t he always?”
“Yeah but,” I pause, that lump in my throat again. Allie rests a hand on my shoulder. “I thought things would be different.” My throat starts to tingle and I’m yelling at that tear to not drop from my eye.
Allie takes a moment before she sighs, “Yeah, well. I’m not surprised King would fuck up a good thing. Fucking shit up is what he does.” She lets up after that and does her best at distracting me from my woes with complaints about her parents.
We draw out coffee as long as we can before we head to the Academy and I’m hoping this day is quick to go by. But when we get to school, it’s clear this long day has only just begun. As Allie and I approach the front steps, Christian stands at the top with Damien, my body tensing at the sight.
The King of the school doesn’t look any more put together than he did yesterday. He’s not even in uniform and considering what happened, I’m surprised he’s here at all. He’s in a crumpled tee and his leather jacket, black joggers and hair greasier than these boots. Even then, Damien King still manages to pull off that sinfully seductive look. That chiselled jaw stands out even from here and his skin, while pale, still looks smooth and soft to touch.
I knew Christian said he wasn’t going to ditch his best friend but after he kicked me out of his house, seeing them together makes me want to punch them both. I know he’s grieving but so am I.
We’re waiting for Nate when a girl nudges my shoulder as she passes. “Grim Reaper,” she mutters.
“What?” I snip back, but she looks over her shoulder and keeps walking up the stairs.
As she walks away, I hear more whispers as other students pass us.
“Can’t believe we go to school with a murderer.”
“Wonder who else she killed?”
“I hear she’s hiding out here.”
“Don’t listen to them,” Allie says. Christian’s eyes catch mine and he looks down, hockey stick in his hand, duffel bag on his shoulder. He fits in with the jocks. Always has. I’m kidding myself if I think he can be a friend.
Isaac stands next to his fellow Kings, leaning against the brick wall, a hockey stick beside him. He looks as dishevelled as Damien, if not worse. They’re passing a bottle between them and it’s like they’re still on their party train. Damien catches my glare next, eyes droopy, a twist of that perfect mouth.
God, why did he even bother to come here? Why did I?
He’s spinning that coin between his fingers but he drops it, stumbling when he leans over to pick it up. Christian helps balance him before he glances my way again, a fresh cut on his cheek.
Allie’s rummaging through her tote when she lets out a, “Fuck.” She pulls out her keys. “I forgot my homework in the car. Do you wanna wait here or do you wanna come with me?”
The longer I stare at Damien and his friends, the harder my nails dig into my skin. I don’t need a bodyguard. And as more people pass me with their shitty whispers, I’m getting tired of standing here and taking it.
“Nah, you go ahead, I’m gonna head inside.”
Allie nods and lets me go before I take off up the stairs, my boots thudding with every step. I’m not looking at the boys as I climb up to the main entrance. I don’t even notice Lea’s with them until I hear her voice, “The bitch came back.”
“Looks like she didn’t learn her lesson,” Georgina’s snarky voice is next. So much for being cordial.
It’s like nothing has changed. So why should I?
I stop in my path, turning to face Lea and Georgina in matching headbands, expensive jewelry added to their uniform. “Here’s a lesson for you. See how far you can push a girl from The Grove before her fist goes through your nose.” I don’t usually sink low but with the way I’m feeling, I do. “You can finally get that rhinoplasty you so desperately need.”
Isaac lets out a laugh, joint hanging from his wide mouth, “Shit, still feisty.”
“Still can’t trust her,” Damien mumbles.
What? Me?
His words pierce my heart again, but I’m happy I still have my voice. At least for a little bit. “Still an entitled fucking asshole. Who are you trying to impress now that daddy’s dead and gone?” I’m almost shocked at my own words. Almost.
SMASH!
The bottle he’s holding explodes when it hits the ground and before I know it, my back hits the wall. His cold fingers come around my throat. “You wanna play, Medusa? Let’s play.”
Five
Damien’s smell is intoxicating.
Pine, weed and peppermint with a hint of whiskey. It takes over, his eyes zoning into mine and I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a bit of excitement filling my guts.
Damien’s grip is tight and while he’s hurting me with his grasp and his words, it feels good to be in the hands of the King again.
“I told you to leave, and you didn’t listen.” He says his words through gritted teeth, his voice tired but threatening, skin clammy and pale. I want to hold him. I want to tell him it gets better. But he’s made me the enemy. “You’ll regret it,” he warns. “I’ll make sure you do.”
We’ve played this game before, and I know which buttons to push. “Like I regret ever getting with you?”
His grip tightens some more, his moon-like eyes a blur. He searches my face like he’s fighting something inside him. “You’re a toxin, Medusa. And I won’t stop until you’re out of here. You know I won’t.”
“King.” I hear Christian’s voice but it’s distant. I don’t even know who’s seeing us like this but I don’t care. Every time he touches me it’s like everyone else, everywhere else turns to nothing. A void. Like how I feel without him. “Let her go.”
Christian reaches for his shoulder but Damien’s elbow hits his face, pushing him back. His hand slides from my throat to my chest, pulling at the buttons on my shirt. “This isn’t the time to be stubborn, Rowland. What do I gotta do to get you to leave, huh?” His eyes narrow, darkening like the pits of hell. He’s said shit like this before, but this time I can’t tell if he’s still messing with me. He keeps his eyes on me as he pops off each button until he exposes my chest. He brings his voice to my ear. “Do I have to fuck you senseless for you to listen? Is that what you want? My long, stiff staff, Joelle?”
“King!” Christian pulls at him again and when he releases me, it takes a second for me to think straight. I wobble when I take a step, lust and hate mixing within. Christian reaches out
to steady me as I try to catch my breath, my hand reaching for the cold coming across my chest.
My tongue’s glued to the roof of my mouth, stopping me from saying anything to fit the moment. So I say the first thing that comes to my mind, “If you want me to leave, you’re going to have to drag me out.”
Hoofing it inside, I’m hiding the blur of my eyes, another tear threatening to give me away. I keep going through the halls, heading for my locker. The excited chatter around me is background noise, my body buzzing with arousal.
Anger.
Resentment.
Desire.
As much as I hate him right now, as much as I know I should stay away from him and this school, he’s right. I am stubborn. Together with Damien King or not I still have work to do in this town. And I’m not going to let him stop me.“Jo!”
Someone calls my name, my heart racing as I make my way down the shiny ERA hall. Voices get clearer the closer I get to my locker. Lea’s cackle from a distance isn’t helping the tightness in my chest. Neither are the whispers I hear.
“Gold digging slut.”
“There goes Lizzie Borden.”
“Jo, wait up!” It’s Christian and he’s not helping either.
Without so much as a glance his way, I keep going. Right past my locker. I don’t know where I’m headed. We share the same homeroom but I know I want to be far away from him and his squad of dicks. I’m almost at the girl’s bathroom before I’m lifted off the ground, my feet in the air. “What the fuck?” I’m flailing my limbs, curls and legs going everywhere. “Put me down!”
“Relax.” It’s Christian and when he throws me over his shoulder I feel the air on my lower ass cheek, my hair falling over my head.
I’m wriggling in his hold, the scent of his cologne taking over as he covers my ass with my kilt. At least he’s not giving everyone a show but what is it with the Kings and not taking “no” for an answer? “Christian!” I yell again. “Put me the fuck down!”
We’re going through a door, my voice turning into an echo around the room. The walls are blue and white, almost a copy of the girl’s bathroom except … My eyes zone in on a urinal as my boots hit the shiny floor. A boy shuffles by me, mumbling “Sorry, Perez.” Christian gives him a nod before he scurries out the door. It’s amazing what power this school’s “Supreme Squad” has and Christian knows how to use it.
He’ll always be one of them. Even when he doesn’t try.
Wrinkling my nose at Christian, I cross my arm, heartbeat pounding. “What the fuck?”
“I wanna talk.” Pulling my eyes away from his sparkling greens, I reach for the handle on the door but he stops me, pulling me into a stall instead. He locks the door behind us before his hands rest on my shoulders but I push them off. “Jo, c’mon, I wanna make sure you’re okay.”
“Oh, do you?” I ask, stepping into his face. I’m not letting another King trap me. “Is that why you let your best friend damn near strangle me on the front steps?” He doesn’t have to know I liked it. I’m trying to make a point. “Is that why you don’t have enough balls to talk to me in public? You’re like them, Christian. Stop fooling yourself.”
“What do you want me to do? My best friend lost his dad, Jo. You don’t understand—”
“Actually, I do.” My hands turn to fists, jaw tight.
Christian’s head falls back against the door, eyes to the ceiling. “Shit, I didn’t mean that.”
“H-Hello?” A boy’s voice comes after.
“Get out!” Christian bellows. Papers shuffle before we hear the door close. Still a fucking entitled King. He exhales, trying again, “I didn’t mean that. I don’t know what to do. Help me out. I’m between my best friend and the girl I like.”
Wait. “The girl you what?”
“Jo, don’t tell me you didn’t know.”
My stomach twists, his hands coming to my arms. “Christian, that doesn’t make any of this okay.” I look up at him, meeting his green gaze with my hazel ones. The dimple in his cheek when he gives me an apologetic grin isn’t enough to fix how I’m feeling.
“Then give me a chance to make this okay, Jo I—”
“Jo?” Another voice cuts off Christian’s train of thought. A familiar one.
Christian lets out a frustrated sigh, muttering something in Spanish before he speaks, “Can you just give us a minute?”
“Christian?”
My head falls to the side, eyes narrowing. I recognize that voice. “Nate?”
“Of course.” Christian steps to the side as I move to unlock the door. When I open the stall, Nate’s standing in front of us, his crisp uniform outlining his poised appearance. He has an eyebrow arched, arms crossed, his boyfriend, Carlos, with a similar expression beside him.
“The boys’ bathroom? I didn’t even know you two were a thing,” Carlos says.
“We’re not!” I push through them, Nate getting the brunt of my annoyance. “Leave me alone, Christian.”
I leave the bathroom as the bell rings, and I don’t look for Allie or wait for Nate before I head to homeroom. I hope Mr. Hill has reading on the agenda because all I want to do is hide behind some words and disappear.
* * *
Neither King is in class this morning, leaving me to my thoughts.
I’m starting to think I pissed them both off. If so, good. The anger goes both ways. But when I don’t see Lea and Georgina in Algebra, I start to feel left out.
Where are they? Better yet, what the fuck are they planning?
It’s like I’ve come back from war, or I’m still in it because I’m starting to get a little paranoid. I’m even starting to second guess what I thought happened. Does Damien actually think I killed his father? Or is he an angry, grieving, douche-bucket?
I’m tempted to ditch class the rest of the day if it wasn’t for art with Clara. Art class has always been an escape. Moreso for the act of painting and getting lost in colours and brush strokes. Shapes and lines. It’s easy to tune out the rest of the world when it’s me and my canvas. Inspiration hasn’t hit in forever but after that interaction with Damien, the artistic fire is burning inside. I’m already doodling away in my notebook when Clara starts speaking to the class.
It’s hard to believe we’re nearing finals already. She’s assigning us the project that’s worth the majority of our grade. We’re to use all the skills we learned this semester to create a final piece around a specific theme that we’ll present to the class.
“As for the theme,” Clara says with a huge grin. She turns around, spelling it out on the board with a black marker. “The Human Condition.”
Once everyone settles down into brainstorming what they want their project to be, Clara comes over to my desk. Today she’s in a Mother Earth’s Plantasia t-shirt, paintbrush behind her ear.
“Jo,” she smiles when she says my name. “I can’t wait to see what you put forward for your final.” She leans on the desk, glancing at my doodles. Devil horns. Another set of eyes. I smile back. At least I can rely on Clara to have my side. “So, I spoke to my connection at Harvard and they’re pretty excited about you.”
“Harvard?” Straightening in my seat, my brows knit together. “About me?”
Clara nods, her finger brushing the work on my paper, “Yes! If you keep up the work you’ve been putting forward, you’re on the way to a full scholarship. This project should be a breeze for you. You’ve shown nothing but great skill.”
“You’re fucking with me,” I say, too stunned to hold back my curse. After the couple of days I’ve been having I don’t know if I can trust good news.
Clara laughs, disregarding my slip, “No, not at all.” Leaning in, she takes a glance around the class. “Believe me, I’ve been teaching here for some time. You can do this.” She taps her knuckles on the table before pushing off the desk. “It’s only a matter of time before you start believing in yourself.”
I can’t hide my smile. A scholarship to Harvard? I can hardly swallow her words
when she flutters away. So what if things didn’t work with Damien? So what if they never do? A scholarship to Harvard would be worth the pain. The torment. The torture. A scholarship to Harvard would mean all this wasn’t for nothing. I’d be an idiot if I let them shove me out of this school. Not now. If Willow can find her place in this world, so can I.
“Clara?” I say. She looks back at me, a smile still on her face. “I have an idea for my project.”
* * *
My mood stays lifted on the way to my next class.
It’s P.E. but after talking with Clara, I don’t even care. Don’t care that Georgina’s there. Don’t care that her friends all whisper and point at me. I’m holding onto Clara’s words for dear life. That scholarship is my award for making it through hell and this class is not standing in my way.
Georgina bumps into me when I enter the girls’ locker room, “Oh look, it’s The American Horror Story.” Those comments aren’t getting to me either. At least I thought they weren’t until she says, “How long until you snap and kill one of us? Is that how your parents died? Did you kill them, Medusa?”
Turning around I push against her chest, Georgina stumbling back, “No. But I sure as hell will kill you if you mention my parents again.” I shouldn’t have said that. Shouldn’t have perpetuated the rumours flying around about me.
Georgina gives me her signature disgusted look, upper lip to her nose before she pushes back. With my mouth tight, my hands hit her chest harder and it’s not long before there’s a crowd of girls around us.
“Don’t let her get you, Georgina!” Someone calls from the group. “Like she got King’s dad!”
“Ladies!” Coach Richards pushes between us, her hands against our chests. I keep swinging but Coach huffs. “We’re not doing this again.” When I take another swing at Georgina, Coach looks at me. “Or you’ll be swinging down to the office.”