Bully (Angel & Demons Trilogy Book 1)

by Ashley Love

  "What are you grinning about, honey?"

  I look up to find her maple-warm dark eyes studying my blue ones. I shake my head. "It's nothing," I dismiss, still unable to stop smiling.

  Bonnie sighs a little as she cleans. "Ariel, now I know this isn't all from a bike accident," she says, her voice kind and patient.

  I don't say anything, keeping my eyes down.

  Bonnie secures a small bandage over the cut and swipes the wet cloth under my nose a couple times, presumably to wipe away whatever blood I had missed from the nosebleed. When she finishes, she takes my chin gently, avoiding a blooming bruise near the hinge of my jaw, and tilts my head up so I'm forced to look at her.

  "You don't have to tell me where you got all this," she says, looking at me with raised eyebrows, "But just tell me one thing. Are you alright?"

  I'm getting a little tired of people asking me that. It's overwhelming. But I swallow and nod. "Yes, I'm okay. Everything is okay."

  Bonnie holds my stare for a long, long moment, so long that I almost look away. But then she sighs and releases my chin. "Alright, sugar," she says. "Turn around and pull up the sleeve of that shirt. You're bleeding on your shoulder too."

  I do what I'm told, hesitating when I spot Sophia in the doorway of the bathroom watching us. I lock eyes with her and give her a small smile and a nod, hoping it's reassuring. This hadn't been that bad. I've dealt with so much worse in the past. Just because the Cancers felt the need to put me in my place this one time doesn't mean that there's going to be a problem here like there have been problems in the past. I try to convey that reassurance in my smile to Sophia.

  She doesn't seem to buy it.

  8

  Zane has a headache by the time he makes it home that afternoon. He has an adrenaline buzz simply from getting to beat someone up today, because he admittedly has always enjoyed that feeling of power. But the headache is there to remind him that he is torn about the fact that the person he got to beat up was Ariel Riley.

  He's worked himself up into a pretty foul mood by the time he gets home. He's not sure whether he should be pissed that Ariel doesn't seem interested in fighting back, or if he should admire the fact that the girl seems so brave that she doesn't even appear to care that she's getting beaten up in the first place. It makes him feel inferior. So he settles on just deciding to be pissed.

  When he walks into his house, he's surprised to find Mike in the kitchen with his brother. Liam is sitting at the table reading a textbook that should be too thick for a twelve year old, marking the relevant information with little sticky note tabs. Their father is standing at the stove stirring a pan of boxed macaroni and cheese with one hand, holding a beer in the other. It's only four in the afternoon, a little too early for dinner, but who is Zane is object when Mike is the one actually cooking this time?

  When Zane steps into the kitchen, linoleum crackling underfoot, Liam looks up, and his eyes are wide. He gives Zane a warning look and shakes his head, and Zane's brow furrows as he looks from Liam to their dad. He clears his throat, hearing some sniffling, and he realizes that Mike is crying, his back to his sons.

  Great, Zane thinks. He hates when Mike cries. Hates it. It's just another thing he can add to the list of things he hates today. But he's already inadvertently announced his presence by clearing his throat, so he can't just leave without saying anything.

  He glances at Liam once more, and Liam looks so wildly uncomfortable that the pinched expression on his face is actually hilarious. Zane rolls his eyes.

  "Hey Dad," he greets, inching forward a bit towards the fridge, half-tempted to go for a beer himself. One good thing about Mike when he gets into sad moods like this is that he doesn't actually care what Liam and Zane do, therefore Zane can get away with drinking.

  "Zane," Mike replies in greeting, his voice cracking on just that one syllable.

  Yeah, Zane's going to need a beer. He clenches and unclenches his fist a couple times on his way to the fridge, willing away the remaining soreness from punching Ariel's face. God, that girl has a really sharp jaw. He grabs a beer and glances briefly at Mike to see if he cares before cracking the thing open and tossing the bottle cap into the sink.

  He doesn't bother to say anything else to his dad for now. When Mike gets sad, it's best not to engage him. Just like when Mike gets angry. Just like when Mike gets happy. It's best not to engage him when he's happy, for fear of ruining his good mood.

  Basically, it's best just not to engage Michael Peterson in any conversation ever, at all.

  Zane sinks down in the chair at the kitchen table next to Liam's, peering over his shoulder at what he's reading. A paragraph on the American Revolution catches Zane's eye and he sits there reading a summary of the battle of Lexington and Concord for a few minutes in mild interest before Mike clears his throat, dropping the spoon he was using to stir the macaroni and cheese in the sink and turning off the stove.

  Zane and Liam both look up as he begins to dump the food into three separate bowls. Wow, Zane thinks, we're actually going to eat together tonight.

  "You boys know what day it is?" Mike asks, his voice rough with emotion, although it seems he's getting his tears under control.

  Zane knows this has something to do with their mother, because Mike never cries about anything but that. But what could it be? His mother's birthday is in December...she died in November. They got married in February. But what happened in October?

  He glances at Liam, asking the question with his eyes, but Liam just shrugs and shakes his head in the same confusion. Liam's gaze suddenly hones in on Zane's nose and his brow furrows. He points to his own nose, signaling to his brother that he has something on his face. Zane reaches up and wipes his nose with the back of his hand, and when he looks down, there's white powder on his bruised knuckles. Cocaine.

  He grits his teeth guiltily, and pretends he doesn't see Liam's suspicious look out of the corner of his eye as he glances back up at Mike, inconspicuously wiping the remnants of Slate's coke on his jeans. Their father turns around, carrying two of the bowls of macaroni and cheese over to the table, and God his face is a mess, wrecked with tears and snot, unshaven. But there's a lucid look in his eyes that tells Zane he's at least half-sober, which is better than normal, so he feels a little more at ease.

  Mike sets the bowls, one in front of each son and goes back for his own. "Well?" he asks Liam and Zane.

  They both swallow. "No, sir," they reply finally to his question, perfectly in sync.

  Mike returns to the table with his own food and dumps a couple forks in front of the boys. Zane sucks down a small swallow of beer before grabbing a fork and digging into his food. The faster he eats, the faster he can leave the kitchen and hide in his room.

  "On this day, nineteen years ago, I proposed to Diane," Mike says, nodding with a sad smile.

  Zane chews his food thoughtfully, unsure what to say, so he says nothing. As much as he loves his mom, will always love his mom, he hates talks like this. He can't wait until it's over.

  "Happy anniversary," Liam says quietly, and Zane can tell the kid is unsure what to say too.

  Mike looks at both of them, but they keep their eyes down and continue eating.

  When their father starts to sniffle a little again, Zane glances up, and Mike is looking down at his untouched food. A few tears start to run down his face again, and Zane looks away, feeling guilty as hell and like a bad son. What is he supposed to do? Liam seems to be struggling with the same conundrum next to him, and it takes both brothers less than a minute to finish shoveling their food into their mouths.

  They both stand, carrying their bowls over to the sink. Liam grabs his books and heads to his room. Just before Zane leaves the kitchen, plucking his beer off the table, he hesitates next to his dad, and then places one hand on his shoulder reassuringly, patting him just a couple times like he's some frightened animal in need of comfort. His father doesn't acknowledge him, so Zane just sighs
and goes to his room, leaving him crying there over his uneaten food.

  It happened when Zane was seven and Liam was almost one. The Accident. Zane always refers to it as just The Accident, because he'd rather not call it The Day Diane Peterson Burned To A Crisp.

  The coroner and all the investigators had assured Zane and his family that Diane had actually died on impact, instant, painless. Their car had veered off the road when Diane had spilled her coffee while driving. It was just Diane, Zane, and Liam in the car at the time, and Zane remembers it so clearly, it's like it happened hours ago.

  He remembers the sound of the glass shattering, the pop as something in the engine was punctured, the strange sickening crunch of his mother's head hitting the steering wheel. In hindsight, Zane can understand why the coroner and the investigators all figured Diane was dead on impact. She wasn't moving when the car caught on fire, even when seven-year-old little Zane wriggled his way out of the mess of metal in the back seat and shook her a few times. Maybe she hadn't been dead, maybe she had. But at least she was unconscious when she burned.

  Zane, however, was fully conscious when he caught on fire.

  His leg was trapped between the passenger seat and his own spot where the metal of the car had folded it's way forward, compacting the whole vehicle. Liam was crying in his car seat, but Zane hadn't even made a sound. Not one sound. He was on fire and he didn't even cry.

  It was a miracle that he'd managed to jerk his leg free, breaking his ankle in the process, tearing Liam out of his car seat and dragging him out of the smoking machine, but not before he could smell the aroma of his mother's hairspray burning, and could feel the skin bubbling off his side where the fire was eating through him.

  Eleven years later, and Zane can still smell burning hairspray whenever he closes his eyes.

  He pauses in the hallway outside Liam's room, contemplating going in there and hanging out with his brother tonight. But he doesn't want to have to explain why he'd walked into the house with white powder on his nose today, so he swallows guiltily and wanders further down the hall to his own room, collapsing on his bed (which is actually just a mattress on the floor with an old, old set of Batman sheets) and stares at the ceiling.

  His ceiling doesn't have cool glow-in-the-dark stars and planets on it like Liam's, but he does have a Return of the Jedi movie poster that he won at an arcade once tacked up there, so he settles back and stares at that. He studies Princess Leia in her bikini top, and Han Solo pointing his weapon down at him, and he moves his hand up his shirt and trails his fingers over the shiny off-white burn scars littering the left side of his torso all the way up to his ribs, and all the way down to his thigh. And he tries not to think.

  9

  It's late that night when I hear someone knocking on the front door. Me and Sophia are huddled together on the couch watching some TV show about ocelots, trying to keep warm since the heater in our house hasn't bothered to work since we've moved in. We're busy eating bowls of the casserole Bonnie had sent us home with tonight. This one has no quail eggs, but I'm suspicious of the green strings that look very much like seaweed. It's delicious though, so who am I to complain?

  I glance at Sophia when I hear the knocking, and then look back at the front hallway when it continues, pounding out the rhythm to the waltz. There's someone singing on the other side of the front door, too. I stand, checking the time as I walk to the door. It's just around eight-o-clock and tomorrow is a school day.

  Mason, Charlie, and an Asian girl I've never seen before are standing on my front porch when I open the door, grinning and hugging themselves against the cold. The girl I don't recognize is holding a paper grocery bag.

  "Guys?" I greet with confusion. "What are you doing here?"

  "Good to see you too," Mason drawls, sliding past me into the house. I step aside to allow Charlie and the new girl to enter, and I close the door against the cold. It isn't that much warmer inside.

  "Jeez, it's freezing in here!" Charlie complains.

  "Heater's broken," I apologize.

  "Maybe I can fix it?" the new girls says, giving a little wave as she sets the grocery bag down on the front table.

  "Ariel, this is Kira. I don't think you guys have met yet," Mason says, gesturing to the new girl. Kira gives a small sheepish smile and extends her hand in greeting. Her hair is perfectly jet black and it hangs long and straight down her back.

  "Nice to meet you, Kira," I greet, shaking her hand.

  "Whoa, what happened to your face?" Charlie asks, stepping forward and eyeing me from up close, although thankfully, she doesn't prod at my face like everyone else has been.

  "Oh, uh, I had a little run in with the Cancers."

  "The who?" Mason asks, coming forward.

  I gLance toward the living room briefly where Sophia is still studiously learning about ocelots. "Zane Peterson and his friends."

  "They hit you?" Charlie asks disbelievingly.

  "You nicknamed them the Cancers?" Kira asks at the same time.

  I nod silently to both questions.

  "Hm," Charlie ponders. "That's actually very fitting."

  I rub the back of my neck. "What are you guys doing here?" I question, trying desperately to change the subject. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, it's just...I don't know, I would have cleaned up or something."

  Mason looks around and snorts a little. "If it got any cleaner in here, it'd be a mental institution."

  I feel my cheeks growing hot and bite my lip. "Well how'd you guys even know where I live?"

  Charlie shrugs. "The only house that's been up for sale and gone off the market recently is this old one on Coolidge, so we just assumed."

  "And we figured since your parents aren't home, we'd come crash the joint," Mason grins.

  I chuckle a little. "That's very innovative of you."

  "We brought food," Kira offers, picking up the grocery bag again. "But it kind of smells like you already ate."

  "Oh, that's okay, we can eat again," I say, and then call out, "Sophia, are you still hungry?"

  "Always!" she shouts back.

  Mason chortles. "My kind of lady." He wanders towards the living room.

  "Mason, she's eleven," I warn him. "No hitting on her."

  Mason has the audacity to look offended. "What kind of monster do you think I am?"

  "Don't answer that," Charlie says, taking my sleeve and pulling me towards the kitchen in the next room. Kira follows with the grocery bag.

  Mason rolls his eyes and continues into the living room, plunking down next to Sophia and striking up a conversation.

  "He loves kids," Charlie explains. "He's got a lot of little brothers, so he's used to them."

  I nod in understanding.

  "So, Ariel," Kira speaks up. "You want me to fix the heat or not?"

  "How do you know how to do that?"

  "Oh, Kira knows everything," Charlie provides. "It's a fact."

  Kira rolls her eyes sheepishly. "I'll still never be as good as you at computers."

  Charlie grins. "Shall we have another hack-off tomorrow?"

  I look between them. "A 'hack-off'?"

  "Charlie and I race to see who can hack into different things faster," Kira explains. "Usually it's into the school's confidential files, but this one time we got into the private email of the mayor of Windsor Falls." They both grin proudly.

  I can't help but smile, even as my jaw drops. "Wow, that's impressive."

  Charlie shrugs like it's no big deal. "Just a hobby."

  Kira sets the paper bag down. "So where's the heater? And do you have some tools?"

  I nod and gesture towards the back of the house, showing Kira the heater and A/C unit near the laundry room. She sets to work with determination and I wander back to the kitchen, where Mason has joined Charlie. They've unloaded the groceries, and it's all just candy and cookies and junk food. They're busy getting out bowls and cups and filling them with cheese puffs
and mini chocolate chip cookies and making a bouquet of Twizzlers in a vase.

  I laugh a little when I see the display. "Dinner, huh?"

  Mason grins around a lollipop. "It's as good a dinner as any."

  I pull a chair up to the island counter and sit down, reaching out and grabbing a Twizzler.

  "So, Ariel..." Charlie begins, and she looks up, chewing on the end of the licorice.

  "Yeah?"

  "What the fuck happened today?" Mason says before Charlie can. "With the Cancers?" He air-quotes when he says Cancers.

  I pull the licorice out of my mouth, licking my chapped lips. "I actually tried that thing you told me to do a couple weeks ago..." I tell Charlie. "You know, the thing where I act like I don't care when they're messing with me?"

  Charlie's face becomes rigid. "Oh yeah? How'd they take it?"

  "Well..." I hesitate, fiddling with the Twizzler. "They beat me up anyway. But, I felt better about it."

  She's looking at me and her eyes are like a knife in my ribs, the blade digging deeper and deeper. She's practically glaring, but I can tell it isn't a glare that's meant for me.

  "God, I can't believe they put their fucking hands on you!" she seethes. "You're a female, for Christ's sake! Do you think they'll mess with you again?"

  I look down at my hands, shrugging. "I'm not sure." Zane's angry, gorgeous face flashes through my mind but I brush the thought off.

  "Are you gonna at least call the police?" she asks.

  I quickly shake my head. "I don't want to make a big deal out of this. Really."

  "I think they'll eventually leave you alone," Mason says reassuringly. "I mean, that's all these kinds of guys are looking for, is a reaction. So if you don't react when they bug you, they might stop."

  "You think?" I ask, looking up at him with a pinched brow.

  "Absolutely," Mason nods with an encouraging smile. "I'm proud of you, kiddo. Must've sucked though."

  I shrug again. "It wasn't so bad. It's happened before."

  "What, here?" Charlie asks.