by L. J. Woods
I’m in a daze when Willow meets me at the front of the school demanding to hear all about the homecoming game. I tell her about the lingerie. Tell her about Lea’s reaction. But I don’t tell her about Damien. He's spent too much time in my mind as it is.
We’re standing in front of the school and things seem all too quiet. Sure, there are still some whispers about me being a slut, poor or a whore. But it’s not as bad as it was last week.
“Looks like you’re finding new ways to fit in too!” Willow gives me a huge smile as a boy her height with slick black hair waves at her from the front door.
"Who's that?" This is the first time I've seen Willow with this kid.
She waves back. “I met some new people at Bella’s sleepover last night.”
“I didn’t know it was co-ed.” My eyes scan over the boy waving at my sister, what I can see anyway. He's shorter than most in their grade but his uniform is as crisp as the rest of them, glasses on his small nose.
“He's helping me with science," she hesitates, shoulders dropping. "Jordan Huang."
“Huang?”
“Yeah, he’s Lea’s brother." She glances his way. "Don't freak out, he's not like her."
“Lea has a brother?”
Willow nods as if this isn’t brand new information. He’s dressed smart, but not exactly as fashionable as the rest of Lea’s crew. But now that she’s mentioned it, I’m starting to see a resemblance.
“Mhm,” she says. “Gotta go!” She hugs me before running up the stairs.
“There she is!” I hear Nate’s voice and follow it to see him coming from the parking lot with Allie. “The slutty diva herself.”
“Wait, what?” I’m nervous as they approach.
Has word gotten out? Has Damien already told everyone that he fingered the new girl in the boys’ locker room?
“He’s still singing praises of the performance he missed yesterday,” Allie says. They link arms on either side of me as all three of us start heading for the steps.
“Speaking of which.” Nate leans in. “You missed a performance at Emilio's.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Kings showed up. I don't know if it was the loss but Damien and Christian got into it. Right in the middle of the restaurant. It was pretty epic.”
“He’s still turned on.” Allie sticks out her tongue like she's gagging.
We make our rounds to our lockers as they fill me in on the rest of the story. They say it got so bad Isaac had to pull Damien off Christian before they got kicked out.
Was that fight because they lost the game? Or was it something deeper that caused them to get so heated?
Trying to reign in my imagination, I change the topic to art class. Babbling about a potential art scholarship is a distraction but it's not working. I’m nervous about Homeroom. Nervous to see Damien. So I let the conversation go on as long as I can before Allie and Nate take off to class.
Once I'm in front of my homeroom door, I take a deep breath before walking in. Damien’s already in his seat. So is Christian. And when I get in, he doesn’t say a thing. No Medusa. No taunts. I should feel relief, but there's a sinking hole in my stomach.
Nate’s right though, Christian does look banged up. Along with a busted lip, he has a fresh scratch under his eye. He doesn’t look at me either.
Does he know?
Sinking into my seat, I lean over. “Rough game?” I ask. He’s doodling. Swirls and zig-zags but refuses to look my way. I try again. “Thanks for the jersey.”
The slam of his book makes me jump. Christian leans back in his seat, eyes focused on the board with nothing on it. A few seconds later, Mr. Hill walks in and begins the class.
Neither boys look my way the entire time.
The end of the day comes quicker than usual and I spend the majority of it confused.
Confused by me.
Confused by Damien.
I’m even left in the dark about Christian. I didn’t mean for last night to happen. And while I want to forget that it did, it’s making me angrier that Damien hasn’t said anything. At least Lea’s keeping her head down.
Wait, did my dirty deed get me off the blacklist? Did I sign a deal with the devil?
I’m half expecting to bump into Damien in a dark hallway. Or have Isaac make a stupid remark again. Neither happens and by lunch, I’ve had not one encounter with any of the Kings.
I’m on my way to the library, walking down the long hallway that leads to the enormous space. I’m wracking my brain to make sense of the situation. To make sense of myself. If Damien wanted me to leave, he had a strange way of showing it with his fingers deep in my—
“Hey, Jo.” I’m so spaced out that I don't see Luca approaching me. He’s coming out of the library doors and I haven’t seen him since our show of a kiss at the homecoming game. “Disappeared last night.”
“Had a bit of a wardrobe malfunction.” I'm happy to see him. While he’s a jock and acts like it, he’s one of the few people in this school who’s being nice to me.
“And a hell of a wardrobe it was.” He gives me an up and down that earns him a playful punch to his stocky shoulder. It bounces off his muscles and I’m starting to wonder if every guy on The Eagles is this fit. He looks behind him before pointing his thumb at the doors. “Heading to the library?”
“It’s been my refuge,” I say. "Not like I have much else going on anyway.”
“Not until now.” Looking behind me, he reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small baggie of weed. “Care to partake?”
Looks like knowing the jocks at ERA has its perks. “That I do.”
A smile spreads across Luca’s face as he takes my hand and leads me towards another exit.
It’s not long before we’re behind the pool and hockey building. He’s quick to roll up a joint while I take a deep breath in the cool air. Once it's lit, Luca passes it to me. It must be the same stuff that Isaac dropped because it's as smooth and cerebral as the first time I smoked out here.
Luca coughs between his words, “You’re quite the newbie."
“It seems you are too.” Taking the joint from his fingers, a cheeky smile creeps across my face.
He chuckles, “I’m more of a whiskey guy myself.”
"Sounds like you have good taste." My head gets warm and fuzzy, cannabis settling into my lungs.
Luca looks at me, his eyelids low. “Oh, I know I do.” He leans in and I pull away, putting the joint between my lips as an extra block.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Okay, we should talk.” Before I let him down, another puff calms my nerves. “Last night, I was only proving something to Lea but I shouldn’t have used you like that. I’m sorry.”
He takes a minute, glancing away before I try to pass him the joint again in an attempt to ease his wounds. Luca doesn’t take it, raising an eyebrow. “You being serious, Rowland?”
I nod. “I’m really sorry, I am. But you’re cool. And nice. So we can keep hanging—”
Luca leans in again, wrapping an arm around me. “C’mon, don’t be a tease.”
I lean away, looking at him with my mouth twisting. “Don’t be a dick. I said no.”
“That’s not what your kiss told me.” He leans in again but this time he doesn’t let up.
“Luca!” I try to push him away but he presses down harder. He pins my hand to the building. I use the other one to swat at his face. “Luca. Stop.”
“Shut the fuck up slut,” he says. “It’s not like we don’t all know you’re a whore.”
His lips are on mine and I bite down on his bottom one until the taste of copper hits my tongue.
“Ow! Bitch!” His demeanour changes and I try to get up but he’s already on his feet, pushing me back down. He climbs on top of me, pinning me to the ground between his legs. “You’re going to pay for that.”
Seventeen
“Get the fuck off me, Luca!”
Luca claps a hand over my mouth but I kee
p swatting at his face. My swings aren’t calculated. I just need him off me but my franticness has him dodging my swings each time.
I know I’m a contradiction. I let Damien do similar things to me last night but that was different. I wanted that. I don't want this.
“If you liked that kiss, wait until you see what I have coming.” He pins my arms to my chest before I hear the zip of his slacks.
No.
He wouldn’t.
Another yell brings his hand back to my mouth, my cries for help turning into muffled nonsense. He’s pressing my head against the pavement and I don’t care how many scratches I’m getting on my arms or my legs. I want Luca Ferraro off of me.
“Sssh,” he says, one less layer of clothes between us. His thigh touches mine, something hard and warm on my leg and I don’t want to acknowledge what that is. He pushes his hand into my chest, licking the palm of his other before reaching down.
“Luca?" A voice startles him and there's a wave of relief in my chest.
He uses my face for leverage, pushing his body off the ground. Luca stammers, “I-Isaac? I—”
“What are you doing?” He looks over at me as I push my back against the building, pulling down my kilt, covering my chest. It takes a lot to shut me up but now, I've got nothing to say.
Luca wipes at his nose and looks back at me. “Thought I’d take the class slut for a ride.”
“Wrong answer, Ferraro.” Isaac takes a step closer, his own joint in his hand. He's missing half of his uniform, sports jacket in place of his blazer. “I’m giving you ten seconds to get the fuck out of here or I'm coming back and I won't be alone."
I can hear Lucka buckling his belt but I don’t want to look his way. I don’t want to look at him at all. “No need, Johnson,” Luca says. “She’s all yours.” I hear him spit before he walks away.
Looking up again, Isaac's looking back at me with thick furrowed brows. Without a word, he shakes his head and walks away.
During the first fifteen minutes of school the next day, my Docs pace in front of Headmaster Beckett’s office. I’m not sure if Isaac said anything to anyone. Not sure if Luca did either, but I wasn’t going to let him get away with that. The students here already get away with so much.
When I speak to Beckett’s secretary, she’s zero help. After giving me a speech about protecting ERA’s reputation, she says since I wasn’t raped, I should see a therapist and keep this to myself. It’s baffling, but it isn’t surprising this school cares more about their rep than their students.
Leaving the office with a feeling of defeat, I try to keep my head low and carry on with my week. There’s an urge to find out if Luca’s done this to anyone else but I’m starting to fear ruining my chances here. I’m here for Willow. Our future. Do I want to fuck that up by pressing harder? Luca didn’t complete what he set out to do. Should that be enough?
He's almost nonexistent after that incident. The Archibalds will likely care as much as this school. I’m not even sure if telling any other faculty would result in help. So I tell one of the only people who seem to care. Allie. And she’s livid, says she’ll kill him and offers her lawyers to take this to court. Confused and overwhelmed by it all, I told her I’ll let her know.
Art class comes after lunch. It's another way to get out of my head and that’s exactly what I do.
Clara is helpful as usual, but I hardly hear her praises. She lets me use her headphones to listen to my favourite station on StreamTube. EBSM Music. Zoning out with the beat, my brush strokes along the canvas as I let my thoughts clear.
I'm feeling free. Luca, Damien and Zane no longer on my mind as colours blend in front of me.
The bell rings, signalling the end of my zen, and when I finally take a step back from the canvas, a gasp escapes my lips.
I’ve painted eyes. One blue. One grey.
Fuck.
Startled by my creation, I flip the canvas around before grabbing my backpack off the floor. A muffled chime comes from the front pocket. When I reach in, pulling out my phone, a woosh of flutters greet me.
Unknown: Luca won’t bother you anymore. That’s my job.
Spacing out at the coffee machine, Damien's text replays in my head.
Luca won’t bother you anymore.
I'm at my shift at MOCHA the next evening and I still don't know what he means by that. He’s like a goddamn puzzle with no photo reference.
Damien, Isaac, Beth and Georgina are sitting at their usual booth with some of their friends. They're all still in uniform, their orders already filled with no complaints. And Damien still hasn't looked my way. No matter how many telepathic signals I send.
It's clear Isaac told his best bud what happened, but are they actually going to do something about it?
The sound of the door closing turns me around, expecting new customers. When I see Luca heading towards me, my hand grips the counter.
He’s approaching me and I tense, but my grip lightens up on the cloth in my free hand as he comes closer. His face looks fucked. And I mean fucked. He has bandages across his nose, a black eye that can't open and his lips look plump, battered and bloody. Dude even has a limp.
“Jo?” He glances over at Damien’s table before he attempts to make eye contact with me. “I’m sorry. I’m a pig. I’m turning myself into Headmaster Beckett and my parents know. I deserve it. I hope you can forgive me.”
My brows knit, words unable to escape my lips and before I can answer, he scurries away. Luca hoofs it out of the cafe with another glance towards Damien’s table. Isaac waves with a smile before the door comes to a close.
Everyone at the table bursts into laughter except for Damien. He leans back in his seat, his eyes finally on me as he brings the coffee I made him to his lips.
Willow still doesn’t know what happened, and I'm still unsure whether to tell her.
I’ll definitely make her aware of who she should stay away from, but it’ll have to wait. She’s becoming quite the socialite with her new squad of friends. That’s where she is tonight, at another ‘study group’ with Bella and Jordan.
I've been trying to figure out why Damien or his group of jocks would come to my defence. Not sure why they’d care to. They left shortly after Luca so I didn't have a chance to grill Damien. But there’s a reason Luca Ferraro apologized for what he did and it isn't because he had a change of heart.
The door closes and I call out the usual while wiping stray beans off the counter, “We’re closed."
Sweeping and taking the trash are my final tasks and I’m free. I’m a little behind on Algebra and tonight is my night to make up for it. Once I’m home I’m locking myself in my bedroom to figure out what the fuck ‘x’ is.
I don’t hear the sound of the door again, so I call out a second time in case they didn’t hear me, “I said we’re —”
“Closed?” Damien's voice is by my ear and I’m starting to think this is his favourite spot. “Your legs weren’t a few nights ago.”
Turning around to face Damien, my chest almost hits his. “What are you doing here?” He doesn’t move when I scoot around him, straightening the syrup bottles on the counter.
“I own this town, Medusa.” He leans against the back counter, watching me as I complete my closing duties. He's changed out of his uniform, swapping it for a grey sweater, his usual dark jeans. He doesn't look drunk or high. His hair is even more in place than usual. The lights above highlight his smooth, chiselled features. Rigid jaw. High cheekbones.
I wait for him to tell me why he’s here but he doesn’t. He just watches as I sweep. I’d be lying if I said his presence wasn’t overwhelming and yet, I’m starting to crave it. Starting to want his attention, the little he gives when he seems fit.
Putting a cloth under warm running water, I glance at him to my left. If he's going to stand there he could at least make himself useful. Wiping the counter next to him, I'm mustering up the courage. I'm not afraid to ask, more afraid of the answer. “Did you do that to Lu
ca Ferraro?”
“So you really don’t know anything about the Huangs?”
I look up at him, the mention of the Huangs distracting me. “Do you?”
Cindy makes sure to keep her office locked and no clues have popped up since.
He looks down at my arm. “What’s with the scar?”
My body tenses. I’m starting to realize Damien notices more than he lets on.
“Do you answer every question with a question?” Reaching for my rolled-up sleeves, I pull them down but he stops me. His touch feels warmer as he grazes a finger up the trunk of the tree. It’s too much. Too direct. But when I try to pull away he grabs onto my wrist, pulling the sleeve up higher. My jaw clenches. “Dude, what’s your deal?”
“What happened?”
“What’s it to you?” I pull and he pulls back, I can play this game too.
“Was this that guy?” he asks, his voice like thunder. “The idiot at the garbage dumpster?”
“No.”
He’s in front of me, his tight grip still on my arm, tattoo and scar exposed. “Foster parents?”
“No!” I pull back but he doesn’t let go.
“Tell me.”
“Why?” I wish he’d stop, the memories flooding back.
“I asked.”
Pulling again, his grip tightens. “Damien, fuck off!
“Joelle,” he growls.
I get in his face, having had enough of his bullshit. “You really want to know?" He doesn't answer. Making sure I stare into those mismatched eyes, I let him have it. "I took a knife, dug it deep into my skin and watched as I bled out on my bathroom floor.” Pulling my arm away, he finally loosens his grip.
Leaning over the counter, I take a breath, counting to five and I’m only at three before he speaks, “Seems like we have something in common.” Looking back, he's leaning against the counter, a sleeve rolled up to his elbows. “Didn’t take you for the type to take an easy way out.”
While I'm staring at his tattoo, he rolls up the other sleeve. His finger drags along a similar scar on the other arm. It's buried within the artwork but when he points it out I'm surprised I haven't noticed before.