by L. J. Woods
English is my first class. I’m happy to have one of the only subjects I’m comfortable with at the top of my schedule. Checking the golden number on top of the door, I make my way into Room 116. A green chalkboard sits behind a large brown desk, “Mr. Hill” in white chalk. There's a coffee mug on the desk but no teacher in sight.
The chatter lowers as eyes start turning my way.
“The Archibalds gave them a free ride.”
“I hear she gives head for a fiver.”
“Her parents were crackheads.”
I glare at the kid who mentioned my parents before I spot an empty seat in the back. My usual. Far away from everyone. When I slink into the chair everyone just stares and I’m starting to feel like I’ve grown a third tit. Rolling my eyes I reach into my backpack, pulling out my notebook and hoping for a distraction.
BOOM!
A loud bang makes me look up to see Damien in the doorway, his grey and blue eyes already locked on me.
The room comes to complete silence as heads whip from me to him.
“What the fuck dude.” Christian squeezes in beside him before he follows his friend’s glare. “Oh.” A smirk spreads across his face, moving towards the seat next to me. He sits in his chair and throws his legs on the table. “This should be fun.”
Six
Damien strides towards me and with every step of his black boot, my heart thuds harder against my chest.
He’s taking his time but to me, he’s like a Cheetah. He’s in front of my desk before I know it, dropping his leather duffel bag to the ground. His hands slam on the desk, nostrils flaring. “You don’t belong here, Medusa.”
Christian clears his throat. “He means you’re in his seat.”
Without looking at his friend, Damien growls, “I know and meant what I said.” He stares at me, both eyes filled with fury.
I don’t back down. He needs to know that he doesn’t scare me. “With all this money shoved up your ass I thought you'd at least have some manners.”
“Manners?” He moves closer but his voice doesn’t change. Still deep and rolling and I won’t admit it does something to me. A stirring in my stomach. He reaches into his wallet and throws a five-dollar bill in my face before he smirks. “There’s your tip. Now get the fuck up and if you’re lucky we can discuss how you can earn more later.” Damien pushes his tongue in his cheek, an implied dick poking out.
“You know I would’ve gotten up.” Letting the bill fall to the ground I narrow my eyes, elbows on the desk. “But now I’m way too comfortable.” I lean back in my seat, not losing this staring contest. It’s intense, so is Damien. But I’m stubborn, and I’m not going down without a fight.
“Get up or I’ll make you.” His herby breath lands on my face, muscles tensing through his shirt.
“Mr. King.” A man in a brown blazer, patches on the elbows stands in the doorway. He folds his arms across his chest, horn-rimmed glasses low on his nose. “I really have no time for your shenanigans so early in the morning. Or in the school year.”
“Well, then you can tell this lost trash she’s in my seat.” Damien doesn’t turn around, his eyes boring into my head. “Or she can do as she’s told and get the fuck out of here.”
“Or you can be a gentleman and find another spot, perhaps in this empty seat in front of me.”
I give Damien a smirk and lean back in my seat. Opening my notebook, I show him I’m not going anywhere. To that, he slaps it off the desk, leaning over, palms splayed. He moves in so close that his nose is almost on mine. “I mean it, Medusa.”
“It’s Jo!” I snap back.
“Mr. King!” The teacher raises his voice. “I’m giving you five seconds to leave that girl alone and get in your seat!”
“Fuck this.” Damien turns around, but not before pushing the entire desk over with one fling of his arm. Christian stands, the top of the desk landing on my book. Damien heads towards the door. With his hand on the knob, he turns around and says the words that pierce through my heart, “I’ll make this your personal hell, Medusa. So you can stay here and burn, just like your parents.”
There's a lump in my throat and I'm frozen in my seat. I’m fighting every nerve that tells me to chase after him, hop on his back, and claw at his face. I can't speak when Christian picks the desk off the floor. Or when the teacher starts a slow clap, his voice heavy with sarcasm, “Another dramatic performance by Damien King everybody."
There’s a chorus of murmurs, giggles and whispers before the teacher moves behind the desk. He points to the name on the board. “You know who I am so let’s begin.” Opening his book, he nods my way. It’s the only acknowledgement I get before he dives into his attendance sheet and I’m relieved. New student introductions are the worst.
I’m shaken out of my shock when Christian places my book on my desk. “You’re tough,” he chuckles as he sits in his chair. “But you're in for trouble.”
“Girl!” The minute I step foot out of Mr. Hill’s class, Allie and Nate are on each of my arms. “You are the talk of the town!”
“What the fuck happened with King?” Allie asks, eyes on our trio as they whisk me down the hallway.
So much for flying under the radar. I use this chance to ask about the words still ringing in my head. “Damien said something about my parents.”
“The Archibalds?” Allie glances at me as we arrive at what I assume is Nate’s locker since he’s the one opening it. Cologne and hair products line the top shelf. Janet Jackson poster on the inside of the wooden door.
“No, my real parents.” I follow Allie’s lead, leaning on the lockers beside Nate’s. I don’t bother to ask how she knew about The Archibalds. Its clear news travels fast in this school.
“King’s just fucking with you.” Allie turns to me.
“Yeah, he’s an insensitive prick.” Nate fixes his collar in the locker mirror before smoothing his eyebrows. “If you’re from The Grove there’s probably not much on your folks worth his attention. You're from the other side of the tracks and all.” Allie lets her head fall to the side, giving Nate a look. “What? She is!”
I smile, grateful for his honesty. “They did nothing major, just a lawyer and a journalist.”
Allie raises a brow. “A lawyer?”
I shake my head. “Not that kind of lawyer. My mom still used her fair share of coupons and store brands were our staple. She worked for non-profits.”
Nate wrinkles his nose. “Ew.”
“Still intrigued.” Allie nudges Nate with her elbow. “These people hate your people.”
“What do you mean?”
“She means these rich assholes pay a lot of money to silence people like your folks,” Nate turns around. “That's because people like your folks could ruin people like my folks. Cute though.”
“So where do you two fit in?”
“We don’t,” they say in unison and I find it hard not to laugh.
Before I can pry some more, I notice Christian staring our way from the end of the hall. When I look back at Allie to see if she notices, her eyes are already on him.
“I…gotta go.” She pulls her backpack closer to her before looking at us both. “I’ll catch up with you in class.”
“In like…five minutes?” I ask, but she’s already headed down the hall.
Christian looks around, Allie glancing over her shoulder before they make a sharp turn.
Nate slams his locker closed. “Alright, I’m off to see the sexy bodies of Elite Royal Academy. That’s P.E. Catch you later, Scandal.”
He heads in the opposite direction of Allie and when I turn to look back, they’re both gone. Instead, Lea and her crew walk by, her army doubled in size. I narrow my eyes. “The fuck…”
When I see my sister behind them, carrying a pile of books almost as tall as her, I’m livid. My sister is not being a slave to the school’s Mary Antoinette. Not on my watch.
Storming in their direction, I try to control my breaths. It’s not even the second pe
riod and I can’t catch a break. I’m halfway down the hall before someone grabs my arm, hauling me to the side.
My back slams against the wall before Damien King is in my face. And he looks mad, finger pointed at my nose. He enunciates every syllable, “You. Don’t. Belong here.”
I’m getting sick of his shit and it’s only the first day. “Well that’s too bad because in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not going anywhere.”
He’s staring me in my eyes, his breath against my face and the knot in my stomach tightens. “You say that as if I won’t make you.” Damien traps me between his arms, palms on the wall.
I try to move around him but he doesn’t let me. That’s when I see the man I saw earlier on a golden plaque on the stone wall behind him. The lights are shining right on it, the name underneath reading, “Sebastien King.”
My hope for help fades as students move around us. Many don’t look our way, some pass by with a nervous glance at Damien while some of the girls look downright jealous.
“I have the power to cause you a lot of pain, Medusa.” He swoops a curl behind my ear, his finger grazing my skin.
Goosebumps form on the surface from his touch as he slides a hand under my chin. It’s cold, my face is warm. His thumb comes to my jaw, forcing me to look at him as he cocks his head to the side. With Damien’s lips inches from mine, his breath lands on my face, a familiar scent coming with it.
“Booze before noon? You’re not as classy as you think.” I pull my head back, his grip tightening on my jaw. I don’t care who this asshole is, he has no right to put his hands on me. Especially after what he saw last night. “Get off me, Damien.”
“It’s King.” He studies my face, eyes darting around it. “Think anyone would care if little orphan Medusa goes missing?” Pulling his head back, he tilts his head to the other side. He licks his lips. Soft. Moist. "Bet you'll look good on a milk carton.” His eyes drop to my chest. “Or spread across my bed.”
“If you can’t tell...” I wrinkle my nose. “I’m not exactly jumping at the chance to sleep with a privileged brat.” The thought of ever going to bed with Damien King should disgust me. But when it crosses my mind, his hands on my skin, I have to clench my thighs together.
His hand drops from my jaw to the top button of my blouse. With one tug, it pops open before he’s on to the other. “What the fuck are you doing?” I try to stop him but he slaps my hand away, pinning it to the side of my thigh.
Damien’s eyes stay on my chest. “Since I’m so privileged you know it would be an honour to spread that dirty little hole for me.” He presses his chest harder into mine, my tits squishing against his hard pecs, and holy fuck…Damien King is hard.
“You’re enjoying this,” I gasp, trying to move my head back from him.
“And you’re not?” He lets go of my hand, only to brush a finger against my bare thigh, “You like to play rough. Saw it myself. You're my type, Medusa and you’re in my town.” He smirks, “I’m going to ruin you.”
He’s referring to Zane and it only makes me angrier, “Why’d you stop him if you’re only going to pick up where he left off?”
“If you think I’m like that slop from The Grove you’re more delusional than I thought.” His hand climbs up my kilt, moving further up my thigh. It sends another shockwave of shivers through me. “I didn’t stop him because of you. I stopped him because I didn’t want a murder on my dad’s property. And after that shit you pulled in Homeroom, it looks like I’ll have to show you how to have some respect.”
I hate that he leaves a trail of tingles. Pushing his hand away, I try to fight it. “I want nothing to do with you.”
“Neither do your foster parents,” he shoots back, finding the bottom of my boyshorts. The bell rings but he continues, “Tell me. Do you wish your parents were still alive to see you grow up to be a whore?”
The sounds of the hallway turn into a high-pitched ring, my fists clenching, my face boiling. I can’t think myself through the anger and before I know it, spit is flying from my mouth, landing right in Damien’s grey eye. There’s a gasp from behind him, then whispers, like I’m in the middle of my own teen drama.
My heart races, the sound coming back, glob of spit hanging from his cheek.
Holy fuck. I just spit in Damien King’s face.
And everyone in this hallway saw it.
Damien doesn’t wipe it off. He moves his hand to my throat, grip tightening with a look on his face that tells me he’s seeing red. My jaw clenches and with what air I have left, I push the words out of my mouth, “Let, go of me, Damien.”
The bell rings but I still hear his words through clenched teeth, his nose touching mine. “Beg, you fucking bitch.” His hand pushes through my grip, pulling on the fabric of my shorts.
With an empty hallway, I’m wondering if this kid really is that fucked up, “Damien.” I don’t yell his name, I don’t push back. I’m trying to see if there’s a human inside his fucked up mind. He stops when I say it, a spacey look in his eyes.
“What’s going on?” A teacher in a green and white suit appears at the end of the hall, his eyes on us. “The bell rang in case neither of you heard it.”
Damien drops his hands, taking a step back and I breathe in my first full breath in a while. But there’s no way I’m letting him get away with how he just handled me. I fix my shirt, looking at him as he stares at me.
“I’m not a punching bag for your mommy issues.” I fasten the top button, aware of the cold already enveloping me with his body a couple of feet away. Confusion rising in my gut, I do the stupid thing and double down, stooping as low as he goes. “At least she’s not around to see who you’ve become.”
He lets out a throaty laugh as I finally move around him. My heart beats out my chest before I hear him call behind me, “How does it feel Medusa? It must suck having everyone else know why your parents died except you.”
Damien’s words hit my chest like a bullet, and when I turn around to charge him, he’s already gone, the teacher still in his place. He’s scowling at me, arms crossed.
I try to defend myself, “He just—”
“To class!” He points towards the end of the hall.
Of course, they don’t care that Sebastien King’s son assaulted me on school property. Dropping my shoulders I go, but Damien’s words are on replay.
What the fuck did he mean by that? I was there when my house went down in a roaring fire. I smelt the fumes. I saw the flames.
Is there more to their death than I know? And does this school have the answer?
I’m barely looking at the numbers on the door as I make my way to my next class, gripping the schedule I pulled from my bag. If Damien King wants me to leave, he just made it a hell of a lot harder. If these walls have answers, I’ll find them.
Damien’s words are still ringing in my head when I find the glossy wooden door of death.
Algebra.
Not only is it my worst subject but I can see Lea’s head and a couple of her Trust Fund Trolls through the window. What makes matters worse is that I also can’t seem to pinpoint Allie.
I’m thinking about skipping it altogether but two things pop into my mind.
One, that would be letting Damien win.
Two, I’m supposed to be bettering my chances of getting into a good school. Skipping this class won’t help.
So I take a deep breath and put a hand on the knob.
Queen Jesus, take the wheel.
Seven
In Algebra, Lea and Georgina sit in the middle of the front row, between two other girls who look like them.
All prim and poised. All with designer cases on their desk. And they all have the same smug look on their faces as I walk in.
There’s an empty seat in the second-last row and I head straight there. That’s before I tumble right to the ground, bag slipping from my back above my head. The class erupts into laughter, Lea’s cackle the loudest.
I look back to see Lea’s foot outst
retched. “Oops! Sorry!” But she doesn’t look sorry at all. No, she looks amused.
“Yeah, real fucking mature.” I push myself off the ground, rubbing the dirt on my kilt.
“Like everyone else in this school, I didn’t see you there.” She blinks, rose gold pencil under her chin.
After the events of Homeroom, I’m already exhausted. So instead of telling her where to shove it, I roll my eyes and head for the empty seat. Once I’m seated, I let out a groan as the boy and girl on either side of me scoot their desks away. The girls at the front giggle again and I roll my eyes, slinking down into my chair. Despite their lame prank, I’m happy the teacher isn’t here to see my late arrival.
“Class.” Lea gets up from her seat, turning around with a huge smile across her red lips. She plops her butt down on the teacher’s desk and I sink further into my seat. “Can anyone tell me what you get when you add an ERA uniform to a Glendale whore?”
Blondie's hand shoots up, long pink nails wiggling in the air before Lea points her way with her pencil. “Miss Georgina Dupont?”
“Trick question, Miss Huang.” Georgina looks at the class like she has a secret before her eyes land on me. “You still get a Glendale whore. You see, you added a zero to the equation. That’s you Medusa. A zero.”
My cheeks burn, jaw clenching and I’m about to snap back before the door swings open.
Allie walks in, and with a glance around the room her eyes land on me before she glares at Georgina. “Oh, am I late to a discussion about how Lea has zero class?” My heart begins to slow, though Georgina should be the one who’s thanking the gods. “Or do I have to remind you about the kiss you had with security after too much bubbly?” She looks at the boy in the desk next to me, “Do you mind switching?”
“Ew, Lea!” Georgina gags as Lea slides back in her seat.
The boy gets up without much of a fight, moving to a seat in the second row as Allie gets comfortable next to me. She reaches out and rubs my arm, mouthing, “Sorry” before she glares back at the girls.