Feisty: A High School Bully Romance (Midpark High Book 1)

by Candace Wondrak

  My pockets were still dry, so there was that, at least. A tiny bright side in this otherwise shitty, horrible night.

  I really didn’t want to call Mom. She’d only tell me she told me so. If it were up to her, I’d never leave the house except for school.

  My whole body swayed as my boots hit the ground, and I began to lose my balance. My butterfingers dropped my phone and I breathed hard as I stared at it, knowing I had to bend down and pick it up.

  The problem was, I didn’t know if I’d be able to stand back up once I did.

  It didn’t matter, though. None of this mattered. If I fell down, if I didn’t get back up, the only one who’d care in the end was my mom. It was obvious Archer didn’t like me. This whole time he’d been playing me, and I went along with it like the sap I was.

  God, I hated feeling so weak, so sick.

  I fell to my knees, but my hand didn’t reach for my phone right away. I stayed there, shivering in the cold, feathers stuck to my body, feeling my shoulders slump. Laughter emanated from the house; if I had to guess, Brittany and her friends had followed me, followed me to watch, to laugh…maybe even to drag me back into the house once I passed out.

  And then who knew what would happen. Who knew what these rich kids would do to my unconscious body.

  Damn it. I was screwed.

  Chapter Twenty-Two – Jacob

  The last thing I wanted to do on a Friday night was follow Jazmine Smith, but alas, as I prepared to spend my evening parked on the Fitzpatrick’s street, I saw someone pull up and park in front of the gate. I had gotten a burger from a local drive-through, about to bite into it, but when I saw that car, I stopped, put the bag aside, and waited.

  I couldn’t see who was in the car, but I saw them talking to the guard at the gate. The guard didn’t let him in, though after a few moments, the gate did open, and Jaz walked out, wearing tall boots with a leather jacket.

  Was that a dress?

  I didn’t wonder it because the dress fit her well—I wondered it because it meant she and whoever was in the car were going somewhere. Somewhere that merited that outfit. She almost looked like she belonged here, in Midpark. A pretty girl born to money, spending the money wherever and however she could.

  She got in the car, and they drove off.

  It wasn’t my first time tailing someone. I knew how far I had to be for them to not notice me, how to tail them without drawing their attention. I followed them for probably about twenty minutes before I saw them pull into a long driveway. I slowed on the road, not wanting to actually go into the driveway with them.

  Keeping my attention split between the driveway and the road, I pulled off to the side and reached for my phone. A quick map of the area told me the house sat pretty far back from the road, so it might be safe for me to get a quick peek up there.

  The smell of my burger permeated the car, and I let out a groan, knowing I should stay here and eat it. But instead I got out, closing my car door quietly. I crossed the road and headed up the driveway, keeping off of it, hugging the trees sitting near it. The house was in the middle of woods, it looked like. A rich man’s cabin that wasn’t quite a cabin.

  I kept my jacket closed, turning my collar up. This winter had been an abnormally cold one for Midpark so far. We got a bit of snow every now and then, but overall, usually winters weren’t too bad. This year just seemed like the year of eternal cold.

  After five minutes of walking, the house came into sight. It was an impressive place, newly-built. Tons of cars sat off to the side, and I spotted the car Jaz had gotten into. Lights were on in the house, and I wondered if this was some party. I really should steer clear, but my gut told me to stay.

  Once I was close enough to see the address on the stone wall, I typed it into my phone and saw what popped up. The Pots family owned this, and I bet they were out of town. They had one daughter, a Brittany Pots, who was also a senior at Midpark High, just like Jaz was. Maybe they were friends.

  Or maybe not.

  It didn’t seem like anyone else was coming up the driveway, so I hazarded a walk to the house, even a few peeks into the windows. The kids inside were drinking, from what I could see. So this was a high school party, Midpark style. I should just leave Jaz here and go home for the night. Whoever had hired me surely didn’t want to hear about her partying habits.

  Although, maybe Mr. Anonymous did. It seemed Mr. Anonymous wanted to know literally everything there was to know about her, which I found odd. He wanted me to stay close to her, to watch her, to get to know her.

  That was unusual, wasn’t it?

  Whatever. It wasn’t my place to judge. God fucking knew I’d been judged enough in my past; I didn’t need to add more judgment to the world. It already had enough.

  Eventually I’d had enough creeping. I stuck my hands in my pockets and started walking back. What else was there to do? It wasn’t like I could barge into that party and have a good time with those kids. Fuck no. I’d learned my lesson when it came to Midpark High students years ago.

  Fuck. I still wasn’t over what happened. I still couldn’t forgive myself for letting Celeste go.

  I was midway past the group of cars when I heard the front door to the house open. Instinct took over, and I darted to the nearest car, crouching behind it so whoever it was couldn’t see. If they happened to walk to this particular car, by the time they reached it, I’d be gone, having snuck away while they walked.

  I didn’t hear footsteps, though. Not many. A few, but then they stopped. Then it sounded like something fell…and a faint sound of voices in the background, coming from the house.

  Was that laughter?

  Whatever it was, it didn’t sound right, so I leaned my head against the car, peeking through the window to see what was going on. Jaz was on her knees on the ground, other girls standing near the house, laughing at her.

  Jaz must’ve dropped her phone, because she eventually got up, holding onto it. She took a few steps, but she swayed with each and every one of them. She hardly looked steady. What she looked like was drunk, but that was ridiculous, because she hadn’t gotten here too long ago—and when she’d come out of the gate at the Fitzpatrick’s house, she’d been fine.

  And then I noticed she wasn’t wearing her jacket, and the top half of her body was coated in something white.

  No, this wasn’t right.

  My gut told me something was wrong, just like it’d told me years ago that something wasn’t right with Zane and Thorn Fitzpatrick. I hadn’t acted on my gut then, but tonight—tonight I couldn’t just sit back and let things be. I had to intervene.

  I got up, straightening myself out, acting like I had the right to be here. I didn’t. I was pretty much trespassing, but seeing as how I bet Brittany was throwing this party without her parents’ permission, I’d say I was fine.

  I noticed Jaz swaying on her feet even more, and I had to rush to her side. It was a good thing I did, too, because the moment I reached her, she tripped. I caught her, realized that the white on her was actually feathers—and that she was coated in some wet, strong-smelling liquid—and glared at the girls at the door.

  Their laughter died off, their eyes widening. They didn’t know me. Why would they? Maybe if I cleaned up, shaved, looked like I got a decent night’s sleep, they might recognize me as the officer who shadowed Celeste Chambers three years ago, but that was an eternity in the brain of a high schooler.

  No, to them I was simply a stranger who now had Jaz in his arms.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” It was all I could think of to say at the moment, so it would suffice. Jaz was near limp in my arms, her form still swaying. I heard whispers amongst the girls about who I was, what I was doing here, but I didn’t care to answer them or tell them. That would only get into the truth, and right now, hell, I wasn’t sure what the truth was.

  I turned my attention away from the girls, telling Jaz, “Give that to me.” I probably needn’t have said it, because her hand shook so
hard she was hardly able to hold onto her phone anyways, but I did.

  She handed it to me, and I slid the phone into my pocket, now able to wrap both arms around her and help her walk. She clung to me, her ankles nearly bending with each step we took down the long driveway. If she passed out, I’d be able to pick her up easily; the girl didn’t weigh that much. What got me, though, was the smell. Such strong alcohol—and I was a fan of the strong stuff. I didn’t do light shit often.

  No, to drown out my sorrows I needed something that packed a punch, and right now Jaz was drenched in something like it.

  What the fuck was up with the feathers? Just a way to embarrass her? Ugh, fucking kids. They were needlessly cruel at times, and downright rude the next. There were hardly any redeeming qualities about kids these days; having one of my own was literally the furthest thing from my mind.

  The walk down the long driveway took a lot longer than it had me coming up. Jaz couldn’t walk fast, she could hardly walk at all, and sometimes she stumbled, nearly taking me down with her. It got to the point where I was basically picking her up and dragging her along, her feet useless on the ground.

  Once my car and the street came into view, I tossed a look over my shoulder, making sure no one had followed us.

  No one did. Those kids didn’t care enough about Jaz to follow, to make sure I wasn’t some random predator here to take advantage of a girl who was completely out of it.

  I wasn’t that type of guy, but they didn’t know that. It just went to show how ugly those Midpark kids were. All of them.

  “What were you doing there?” I asked. “Those kids are obviously not your friends.” I sounded like I was scolding her, my fucking God, like I was some concerned third party who just wanted the best for Jaz. I didn’t. I barely knew the girl. Just because I was forced to work with her, for her, didn’t mean shit. She didn’t mean anything to me.

  I helped her around the back end of my car as she mumbled, her words slurring, “I was lied to.” At least, I thought that was what she said. Kind of hard to tell, with how badly her enunciation came out.

  She wasn’t there for that long. How could she be this drunk already?

  Unless this wasn’t because she drank too much—but more like what she drank.

  Was she drugged? Were the girls by the doorway setting Jaz up for some kind of date-rape situation? A new wave of revulsion rose in my gut, and I hated them even more. Probably shouldn’t hate kids, but at this point, I didn’t much care for following the rules of society. The world was fucked-up; I wasn’t stupid enough to believe otherwise. Those kids would grow up to be just as vile as their parents, just as scheming and backstabbing as the worst of them. You didn’t get rich and stay rich in America without stabbing a few of your friends in the back—and their enemies? Their enemies often ended up worse.

  “You shouldn’t go to parties with those kids,” I told her, releasing my hold on her. She held onto the side of my car as I went to open the passenger door for her, swaying on her feet as if she couldn’t find or keep her balance.

  “Stop calling me a kid,” Jaz muttered, looking pale under the moonlight, which was odd, because her skin was normally a rich, tawny hue. I was reaching into the car to throw my dinner in the backseat—funny how I wasn’t even hungry now—when she stumbled past me, practically tripping as she hurled herself into the car.

  I wasn’t calling her a kid. I was calling those other girls kids, although, technically, she was one of them—

  My thought process immediately stopped the moment Jaz muttered, “I don’t feel good.” And then she leaned over and threw up…right on my shoes. Even my recoil speed wasn’t good enough to avoid the projectile vomit.

  Fucking great. Could this night get any worse?

  Her full lips curled into a frown, and she met me with pleading eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s fine,” I said stiffly, even though it wasn’t. I got her in, helped buckle her seatbelt, and then shut the door, swearing under my breath as I went to the bit of grass near the curb and did my best to rub the tops of my shoes on them, get a little of the vomit off.

  I swore, if that girl threw up in my car, we would have a problem. I refused to clean up vomit from the insides of my car. Hell, I’d make her do it. Her vomit, her problem. I was just…

  Just what? Just being nice? Just trying to help this girl so she wouldn’t get into any more trouble? Jaz wasn’t my problem, but…I couldn’t leave her there. I couldn’t let her fend for herself amongst the sniggering hyenas of Midpark. She was obviously out of her element here. She needed a life lesson—don’t trust anyone in Midpark.

  That included me, too. She shouldn’t trust me. Even though I wasn’t like everyone else here, I had secrets, too…and my secrets, I would go so far to say, were worse. I was not a good man. I was a sinner just like the rest, only everyone thought my sins died years ago. I’d known Zane and Thorn were monsters, because I was one too. My scars proved it.

  I got into the driver’s seat wearing a frown. As I started the car, I glanced at Jaz, finding her eyes were on me. She opened her mouth, maybe to ask what I was doing here, but she quickly shut it, moving to hold a hand over her face.

  “If you feel like throwing up again, do me a favor and tell me. Roll down the window, something,” I said, putting the car into gear. Vomit was the last thing I wanted in this vehicle; as awful as it was, I already knew my shoes reeked of it. I’d probably have to throw them out.

  Five minutes into the drive, I wondered just where the hell I was going. I couldn’t drop her off at the Fitzpatrick’s house. She wasn’t well enough to walk up to the house herself, and there was no way any guard at the gate would let me in with a half-conscious Jaz. Plus, I didn’t want to risk Oliver seeing me.

  Jaz wanted me to look into him, along with the Scotts. The Scotts had been in this town longer than most families, their property one of the biggest and most secure. She and I needed to talk about why she was so interested in them, but not tonight. Tonight, I needed to get her better.

  Fuck.

  The one place I drove to was not the place I should’ve, but I really didn’t see any other options at this point.

  I took her to my apartment building, where she’d sleep off whatever was in her system. Where she would promptly leave the moment she was better. I’d drop her off down the street from the Fitzpatrick’s house.

  Yet another thing I had to grill her on was why she lived there. Why would she want me to investigate the man whose roof she lived under? Did she not trust him? Had he done something? Were Zane and Thorn back and hiding out? And then, of course, that left Celeste.

  I had to find out the truth.

  I parked as close to the side door of the building as I could, hurrying out and around to help Jaz out of the car. If someone saw me with her, they might get the wrong idea, so I prayed we wouldn’t run into anyone. My apartment building was far from the nicest in town; in fact, I’d go so far as to say, since it sat in the heart of the city, it was one of the worst buildings around. Older, its insides needing an update. It’s what kept it affordable though, so I couldn’t complain too much about it.

  Fortunately for me, luck was on my side. Jaz and I encountered no one as we made it to the elevator and headed to my apartment. I kept an arm slung around her waist as I reached for my keys and unlocked the door. I helped her inside, and then I flicked every single lock I’d installed. No more random rich boys waiting for me in my living room.

  Yeah, the one time was bad enough.

  I brought her to the bathroom, letting her go to close the lid on the toilet and instructing her, “Sit.”

  Jaz sat with no complaints, though I had to say, she’d looked better. Now that I was able to see her in the light, I noticed her makeup had smeared from whatever liquid had soaked her face and chest. The feathers stuck to her dress haphazardly, ruining the garment’s fabric. I was sure the dress was salvageable, but all those feathers would need to be picked off,
and then the dress heavily washed. But maybe dresses like that you couldn’t wash like other clothes.

  If that thing was hand wash only, I’d say just throw it out. I didn’t have the patience for shit like that.

  I left her, heading into the hall. The dress needed to dry, at the very least. And I was pretty sure I’d spotted a few flecks of vomit on its chest from when she upchucked on my shoes. Speaking of which…

  I took off my shoes, went into the kitchen and threw them in the trash. Then I went to my bedroom, finding some old clothes I didn’t wear anymore. Having her return home in a soiled dress or a stranger’s clothes would be up to her. I didn’t care if she’d get in trouble, but my conscience would be clear because I’d kept her from getting into too much trouble tonight.

  I shouldn’t have, but I did, and now it was too late to take it back. It wasn’t like I could throw her over my shoulder, drag her back to my car, and drop her off at that house. No, we’d passed the point of no return now, so I had to learn to make do, as would she.

  Jaz should be grateful to me for my interference. Hell, I’d basically saved her. I’d seen guys in the house as well, and I knew what was on their minds, especially when they spotted a girl so incapacitated she couldn’t even speak right.

  Once I had an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats in my hands, I returned to the bathroom, finding that she was working to take off her boots. Her fingers couldn’t hold the zipper properly, and I stood there for a moment, watching her fumble and try.

  It was the weirdest thing, watching her attempt to do something so simple. A part of me wanted to laugh. Another part of me wanted to get annoyed and walk away…and yet, a teeny, tiny part of me wanted to help her.

  Goddamn it. I shouldn’t want to help her at all. She was a job, not my problem to solve, not my ward to keep an eye on. She was nothing to me.

  But, damn it all to hell, I moved closer, set the clothes on the bathroom counter, and knelt in front of her, swatting her hands away. “I’ll help you,” I growled out, “as long as you don’t throw up on me again.”