Reckless Hate: A Bully High School Romance (enemies-friends-enemies-lovers-enemies) (Westbrook Blues Book 1)

by Thandiwe Mpofu

  “Where is Daddy dearest?” I question and then she refocuses on me to try and redirect her focus.

  “Oh, I’m not sure. He should be here by now.” My mother says. I can see the frown lines around her eyes now. She reaches for her designer bag that rests on the floor and fishes for her phone.

  “Let me try to call him again.” She says and then stands up quickly. “Look over the menu and decode what you’d like.” And with that, she goes outside to the terrace to make her call.

  As soon as she is gone, I turn to look at both boys.

  “What the fuck do you think you are doing?”

  “What did you think Raea? That you would declare open season on us and get away with it?” Noah scoffs, looking at me with hard eyes.

  “Open season? You must be mistaken if you think I’m playing some kind of game with you.”

  “What are you doing then?” Emmett questions.

  “I’m getting to the bottom of whatever shit that you did to my brother.”

  Noah laughs then but it’s humorless.

  “And what do you think you will find?” He questions and it only makes me angrier.

  “I know you had something to do with his death. I know something happened here while I was away and you three know exactly what I’m getting at.”

  I’m tired of the lies, I’m tired of the loop holes they are trying to weave for me to fall through. “By now you should fucking know not to play with fire, Raea.”

  Noah words make me freeze and my wind pipe almost feels like it’s being blocked. Playing with fire. . .

  Is that a warning?

  “Listen Raea, stop digging.” Emmett says after a pause, gaining my attention.

  “How can I not? You can’t stop me.”

  I notice my mother coming back inside and both Noah and Emmett stand up to leave, as if they have already done what they came here to do.

  “We will stop you, baby girl. You know how ugly we like to play.” Noah informs with a hard glint in his eyes then he leans in and presses a soft kiss on my right cheek and in the next instant, they are gone.

  Ugly? Yes, those boys have always liked playing the ugliest, most gruesome games for their personal enjoyment. And now their focus and attention on me and stopping me from finding information about my brother.

  If finding me here, ambushing me in the middle of the day like this with my mother present is any indication, then these boys have no edge entities. They have no boundaries and will go to any lengths to stop something.

  But, what is that something?

  Instead of frightening me as I think they intended, the need to dig is now solidified within me. These boys don’t do anything without reason and I know for a fact this is not an act, something huge is at play.

  “What happened to Emmett and Noah?” My mother’s questions reaches me but I’m deep in thought.

  “They had something to do, so they had to go.” I answer.

  “Well, that was awkward. Listen, I need you to sign this.” My mother begins as she takes out a thick envelope from her bag. I look at it with suspicion.

  “What is that?” I question, watching her face as she tries to play it cool and composed.

  “Oh, just my will. I need witnesses for it.”

  She needs witnesses to sign her will? And she’s asking me here and now?

  “I don’t think you should have a relative sign that.” I say to her, my gut sinking in suspicion as I watch her, then look down at the envelope.

  “Astraea, you need to. . .” but she doesn’t finish, so I look up and it looks like she has just seen a ghost.

  “Mother?” I question, noticing that she is looking at the entrance. Her face has drained of color and her hand is trembling.

  “Mother?” I call again, rising from my chair. “Are you alright?” I question again and then she whips her head to look at me.

  “Yes, yes. I’m alright, dear. Uh, your father had to attend an important meeting.” She says with a disappointment in her voice. “He isn’t coming.”

  Is that what made her freak out like that? “Are you sure you are alright?” I question again and look to the entrance but there isn’t anything unusual happening there.

  “Yes, we should go.” My mother quickly says.

  “Umm, we don’t have to skip lunch just because he didn’t show up.” I try to reason but she is acting weird.

  “Yes, I know baby, but I don’t want to be here right now. Why don’t we go down to the Haven and get that chicken you used to like?” My mother questions with a sense of urgency.

  I’m not sure if it’s the disappointment or the fact that her hopes of having lunch with my father—I mean, she really dressed up and looks not just good but appealing, as if she wanted to impress a man who couldn’t be bothered to honor the commitments he makes—but those hopes have been dashed. In that moment, I see the sadness peaking in my mother’s eyes. She is sad.

  And what’s the deal with having me sign her will?

  “Yes, Mom. We can have the Haven’s fried chicken.” And with that, we leave the exclusive restaurant—I didn’t notice at the time but we used the back entrance.

  “Tell those scary dudes at the main gate that I’m on my way ☺♥ ☺”

  I DON’T HAVE TO WONDER who it is because only Kim sends so many emojis like that. She is not wrong about the security at the main gates, they look like they are part of a highly trained militia who—by the looks of things—seem to have some kind of specific skill set to decimate any unwanted breaches.

  Not that anyone in Westbrook would dare, but security is just an illusion here. There is no real security. Look what happened to me for instance. . .

  “They are expecting you already.”

  I shoot back the text to her.

  After going to get fried chicken with my mother, we surprisingly had a civil conversation. I mean, it wasn’t deep or anything but she did apologize for earlier. We talked about well, the house and how George was involved in every step of the way. She never brought up anything about her will again, choosing instead to talk about George.

  “He worked on your room every night after coming back from school. He really hoped that you would come back here so you would both go through junior and senior years together.”

  She couldn’t keep eye contact with me as she—well, cut through her chicken—meanwhile, I used my fingers. I don’t know what it is exactly but enjoying chicken while using my hands gives me intense joy. And this is my first time having this kind of food—fast food—in well, years.

  I actually don’t want to talk to my mother about George or my absence. She did send me away after all. So, I choose to switch topics back to safe ground.

  “How long did the entire house take?”

  “Well, it took around eleven months and even then, the construction crew worked seven days a week straight, with long hours.”

  “Where did you guys live during that time?”

  I want to ask her important questions, I really do. I want to know why she stopped visiting me after the first two years. I want to know why my father never, not once, came to visit me. I want to know what happened to her, and what’s going on but I bite my tongue.

  “Just down the street actually. You remember Mrs. Shirley?”

  “From the bright pink house close to the gates?” I question, with a raised eyebrow. I can’t see George staying in that house, it’s somehow ridiculous even in my head.

  “Yes, she moved to Europe that year and left us her house.” She says with a frown and I laugh, she looks horrified. I giggle as I watch her. “That woman has a horrible taste in design. There were frills and lace everywhere and she forbad me to redecorate for her.”

  With that, I burst out laughing. “George slept in that house?” I question, not believing it at all. He wouldn’t have told me all this, for obvious reasons.

  “That boy spent almost all his days at the King’s house or at Noah’s. He was never home.” She explains with a faint smile o
n her face. Faint and sad.

  “Your father wasn’t there either. I was just. . .well, that’s when I began that foundation for women that I told you about.”

  And there it is, topic change.

  My mother has perfected the art of avoidance. Her ability to face issues head on, or lack thereof, is the reason why I was sent away. . .and even as I think about it now, it’s probably a trait of mine too.

  I try by all means to avoid things, issues and conversations.

  Now, I’m in my closet, on the floor trying to fight the creeping sensation that is currently snaking up in my conscious about this freaking party. I can’t tell you how many times I have picked up my phone, dropped it and picked it up again with the intention to text Kim and cancel the whole thing.

  Nothing good ever happens to parties. I try to talk my way out of this one. But too late for that, Kim is already on her way.

  Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe the people wouldn’t be so reckless and immature teenagers that only care about having a good time—influenced of course by alcohol and drugs.

  Drugs.

  I can’t be around any kind of substance either. Hell, I'm already fighting one battle, I don’t need another. I haven’t had a drink, any kind of drink at a party or any place full of strangers since that night and I don’t intend to start now.

  Not tonight and definitely not in Westbrook Blues.

  But then again, maybe the people would be nice. Maybe no one will actually recognize me, especially if I wear clothes that will blend with the rest of the party goers. But, what do people actually wear at a house party? Is it even a house party?

  Urgh, I can’t be this naïve and annoying. But my social anxiety is peeking and I can’t take my pills to calm myself down simply because I need all my wits about me tonight. I need answers damnit.

  I hear a knock from out at the front entry but I don’t bother getting up, calling for whoever it is to come in. I know they hear me.

  “Miss. Astraea?” I hear Trumbull’s voice calling.

  “In the closet.” I shout, but I know he won’t actually come in, I don’t like having any males in here and it’s a rule that was already set by my mother. Yup, she told me that today. Go figure! Except, Ace won’t listen to any of that.

  “Yes well, a Miss. Allory is here.” Trumbull announces

  “Thank you, T.” I call out and soon I hear the pitter patter of high heeled clad feet making their way into my space. I grin as I notice Kim filling in my closet doorway. She looks incredible—smoking hot and she is ready to party.

  “Girl, I knew your house would be huge but this. . .this is madness.” She says as she looks around the closet. “I had to go up three, well almost four flight of stairs, then down a long ass hallway just to reach your room. Are you some kind of sleeping beauty locked away in your own section of the house?”

  I snort, “You do know that fairytales are overrated right?”

  “Hmm, true. But this, is incredible and by the way, what are you doing down there? It’s already eight pm. We have to go!”

  “Yeah about that. . .”

  “No, I can see it in your eyes, you are not ditching this party.” She declares and steps into the large closet with determined steps. “I will drag you out there if I have to.”

  “Damn, I didn’t know you were a hardcore party animal.” I say eyeing her as she helps me stand up.

  ‘Yeah well, I need to relieve myself somehow. Westbrook is a shitty, rich town.”

  “Tell me about it.” I say with an eye roll.

  “I mean, back where we used to live, I would attend a party almost every week but here, it’s different.” She complains while opening my drawers, looking for what though, I don’t know. “You smell good, you just had a shower?”

  “Umm, I’m going to pretend that’s not weird but yes, I just took a quick shower.”

  “Great! At least you are halfway committed to this. Now, to find you something to wear from all these extravagant and oh, my fucking goodness. . .is that a Tom Ford exclusive cocktail dress?”

  “Umm.” I have no idea what’s in this closet. My mother did tell me that she is the one who personally shopped for all of this, and she wasn’t so happy with my chosen dress attire earlier but her mind was on my father—and then Noah and Emmett to actually care at the time.

  “You have no idea, do you?” Kim accuses and I just shrug.

  “I’m not a flashy girl.”

  For all I care, she could have the fancy cut dress, I don’t see myself wearing it anywhere and honestly, Kim’s body is built to wear anything. I mean she didn’t even look at it closer to identify the designer. She knew right from the first glance.

  “I think it would actually suit you than it would me.” I tell her as I make my way to where I know my jeans are folded and placed.

  “Don’t tell me you are one of those girls that have body issues?”

  I turn to see her looking at me with a hand at her waist and a raised eyebrow. “I mean, I’m aware that you are not aware of just how fucking gorgeous you actually are and you try not to notice how people look at you but please. . .weight issues too?”

  “I don’t have weight issues and people look only to gossip.” I just have an eating disorder that I don’t understand, but I won’t tell her that.

  Fuck, I’ve got tones of issues.

  “High school kids need entertainment somehow and well, from what Dereck said yesterday, you and I are in for a hell of a school experience after what happened on Friday.”

  “Oh yeah. You do know that you don’t have to be involved in this right?” I ask her as I turn back to look for the most unflattering pair of jeans in there. If only my dearest mother hadn’t had my stuff disposed of. Urgh.

  “And what? Be an ass kisser my entire senior year? Hell no. I’m not one to do what some bitch tells me to do. I’m not that pathetic.”

  Isn’t that the truth. Kim screams badass, like she would cut a bitch even if she steps wrong. Kim is definitely not the one.

  “You can’t fight them all. Westbrook Blues High girls are vicious like nothing you have ever seen.” I warn her, as I reach for a pair of green baggy boyfriend jeans. Yes, these are ugly and will blend in well.

  “Yeah well you can tell queen Brit and the rest of her minions to bring it. And besides, you don’t even look bothered by this at all.” She points out curiously.

  “Yeah well, I know what Brittney wants. She wants attention, mine, the rest of the school’s. . .”

  “And the Blue Boys attention.”

  “Especially them.” I affirm with a sigh. I can’t do this party thing.

  “You know she is. . .uh, excuse me. What do you think you are doing?” Kim’s sharp question almost startles me. I look down to the pair of jeans that hang over my arm as well as the random shirt I just pulled from the hanger.

  “What?”

  “You are not seriously about to wear that to a party that you are going with me to!”

  “Uh, why the hell not? It’s comfortable.” I almost pout but she pays me no mind as she quickly strides over to me and snatches the clothes away.

  “Oh hell no, Raea. You are not going to embarrass me at this thing. I want to get laid tonight.”

  “But, but. . .”

  “No buts. You sit your reluctant, obviously wants to ditch ass over there and let me look for an outfit for you.”

  “Kim, I really just want to blend in. I don’t want to stick out.” I tell her, feeling my sense of control waning and the need to escape all of this rising higher as the seconds tick on by.

  “I’m not going to dress you up like a damn peacock—even though you would make such a fine peacock with that sexy long neck.” She says with a wink.

  “Kim!”

  “Relax, I’ll go for subtle and mysterious then. You know, you are a mystery yourself. I don’t know what to make of you other than you obviously like stars and shit. Your bedroom is sick.”

  Just the thought of those stars
makes my heart twist and I reach up to my chest for the pendant that lies there. I don’t know what is about this pendant but it calms me.

  Kim quickly goes into a whole fashion expert persona, browsing and perusing my entire wardrobe until she has multiple outfits that she demands—with a huff even—I try out.

  “We don’t have time for this.” I complain after the third outfit.

  “If you would stop groaning and complaining each time, we would have been well on our way by now. Quit bitching and put this top on.”

  “It’s sleeveless.” I point out.

  “Yeah so? There is a light breeze outside. Just put it on and you’ll see the magic.”

  With a frustrated sight, I walk back into the changing room that Kim actually discovered and change. As soon as the top covers my body, I turn to look at myself in the mirror and, holy shit.

  “Well?” Kim calls out.

  I don’t even recognize myself. Kim not only selected my clothes but she did my makeup. Just some eyeliner and some wild berry lip gloss that shines.

  “Well, it’s fine.” I answer her as I walk out.

  “Holy fuck, you look like sex on legs. Fuck.”

  The jeans I’m wearing are a faded granite gray, tight form fitting and make my ass look good, and then the black top with the criss cross like nets thingy, yeah I look like. . .

  “A badass. You look like a badass.” Kim finishes my thought as she hands me a pair of my black air max sneakers.

  “You look great in that though.” I point out. In our search for a party appropriate outfit that wouldn’t embarrass Kim, we came across a jumper, but this one ends midway to her thighs and let’s just say, she is killing it.

  “Oh, I’m getting some tonight.” She declares. “We look fucking amazing, now let’s go. Did Dereck send you the directions?”

  “Yup and I think I know the place.” I say as my nerves start coming back again.

  “Good, let’s go then.” She gleefully shouts, grabbing my hand tugging me out of the closet.

  I grab a purse that I had prepared earlier. There is some pepper spray, some cash, chewing gum and a pocket knife in there. All too soon, Kim is behind the wheel and we are cruising down the road towards the party down at the very edge of the valley houses. The dangerous and bit dingy part. And that’s where the house party is.