Wicked Games

by S. Massery

  “And have you solidified your plan for Amelie?” I ask, biting into my sandwich.

  She grins. “Yep. She’s drinking a laxative as we speak. According to my mother, it’ll move through her system in about four hours.”

  I wince.

  “She’s gonna either be shitty at the top of the pyramid or… you know.” She winks. “But she’s gonna figure it out. It’ll blow back on us.”

  “But you’ll be captain,” I say.

  “And Caleb will be brought down to one of the average folks when he’s kicked off the team,” she finishes. “All will be right in the world.”

  “Have you spoken to Will?”

  Her face closes down. “I mentioned Amelie’s threat like an idiot. He said he couldn’t risk it.”

  “It being…”

  “A relationship. I just got him back, too.” Tears fill her eyes. “Amelie’s going to know it was me and tell everyone—”

  “I’ll take credit,” I blurt out. Footsteps alert us to Riley’s return. “That was fast—”

  It isn’t Riley.

  Ian saunters toward us, a weird smile on his face. “Caught you.”

  Sav stands. “What?”

  “I knew you two were up to something fishy. Where’s Applebottom?”

  “It’s Appleton,” I snap. Since staying in his house, my fear of him has dwindled. Weird how that happened. “And no one invited you to stick your nose in our business, so get out of here.”

  He circles around us and picks up my apple. Falling into the chair Riley normally sits in, he takes a bite and grins. “I think I’d rather take the blame for whatever you plan on doing to Amelie.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she was just sleeping with me to get Caleb’s attention.” He takes another bite and speaks with a mouthful. “Well?”

  Sav and I exchange a glance.

  “What’s in it for you?”

  He sighs. “I’m assuming you did something to Caleb, too? I’ve got to admit, no one will see this coming. The cheer princess and the sheep… and the nobody.” He points to Riley, who has appeared silently. “It’s creepy how you ghost around this school.”

  She glares at him.

  “What did Caleb do to you?” I ask.

  “I admire the way you got under his skin so easily,” he says to me, as if I hadn’t just asked a question. “It’s the kind of move I wish I had more finesse in. Because you were buried in there and when you left, you damn near ripped his heart out.”

  My mouth drops open, but Savannah just nods along, biting her lip.

  “I don’t think you understand how cruel a hurting boy can be,” he adds. “And I’m not going to rehash everything, but let’s just say—he was a feral animal until Eli, Liam, and Theo came along. Somehow they managed to get him under control.”

  “They don’t control him,” I say. “They just…”

  “They get it,” Riley says. “Eli—”

  “Oh, bore.” Ian pretends to fall asleep. “Your first love is a twisted son of a bitch, ain’t that right? Caleb found his tribe and left the rest of us in their wake.”

  He stands, dropping the half-eaten apple in my hand on his way out. “We know you like sloppy seconds.”

  I grimace, tempted to chuck it at his head, when Sav grabs my hand.

  “Don’t,” she whispers. “He has motive to hate Amelie, too, for using him.”

  “The people in this school are sick,” Riley says, clutching at her throat. “I thought I knew the extent of it, but I had no idea.”

  Savannah crosses her arms. “It’s because the administration is slave to the families who donate. And you can guess who those are: The Ashers, the Blacks, the Fletchers, the Alistairs.”

  Caleb, Eli, Ian, Theo.

  “What about Liam?” I ask.

  She scoffs. “He hides his poor roots well.”

  Riley chokes. “That’s not nice, Sav.”

  “It is what it is. No one talks about it because he’s a golden boy. But you just watch—he follows the rules a bit closer than his friends, because the school can take his scholarship away like that.”

  She snaps her fingers, and we flinch.

  “You’d be the same way, Margo. If you were still living with your parents in the back of Caleb’s house.”

  I shake my head. “If I was still there, everything would be different.”

  Sav rolls her eyes. “Maybe.”

  But maybe not. I can hear it in her voice—the doubt. It’s more of a gut feeling on my part, and I don’t bother explaining. If our families hadn’t cracked apart, I don’t know if we’d still be living there. But there wouldn’t be the animosity in Caleb’s eyes.

  I know I put it there.

  Somehow.

  I stand. “Ian’s going to take credit for Amelie’s… accident. Riley and I will go to the game and see how Coach reacts. You act normal at cheer…”

  “Great.” Sav takes the apple from me and bites into it.

  What is it with these people and stealing my apples?

  I gather my things and throw my backpack over my shoulder, walking into the hallway just as the lacrosse coach storms out.

  “You,” he barks at me.

  I jump.

  “With me. Right now.”

  “I have to get to class…”

  “I’ll write you a fucking note,” he growls, stalking toward the cafeteria.

  The bell rings, and students evacuate from the cafeteria.

  I do my best to stay right behind him, wondering if this is it—if Coach saw right through the note we put on his desk, and now he’s going to expel me.

  Students automatically part for us. It must be the scowl on his handsome face—I’m allowed to think the lacrosse coach is beautiful in a rugged, older man way, right? No, okay. Maybe it’s a little weird.

  We pass the principal, whose gaze locks on to Coach, then jumps to me. “Ms. Wolfe?”

  “She’s with me,” Coach snaps.

  We get into the cafeteria, where the only lingering people happen to be the cheerleaders and sport teams.

  They all go quiet at our arrival. Although it has less to do with me and more to do with Coach.

  “Asher!” Coach roars.

  Everyone stops moving—except Caleb. He slowly rises and walks toward us. His brows pull together, the only indication that he’s not sure what’s happening.

  Coach turns, and I trail after him. I feel Caleb behind me like a shadow. Down the hall, past students—including Sav and Riley, who stare at me with wide eyes. Into the athletic wing and right into Coach’s office.

  “Shut the door.” He takes a seat behind his desk. “And sit down.”

  I hurry to one of the two chairs, sitting on the edge of it. Caleb follows more slowly, shutting the door and dropping into the seat next to me. He kicks his legs out, then leans back. His arms fold over his chest.

  “Not sure what this is about, Coach,” he says.

  I shake my head. “And you think I do?”

  His eyes cut to me. “Well, you were chasing after him—”

  “Quiet.” Coach leans forward. “Do you know what I had on my desk today? Hmm?”

  Caleb shrugs. “No, sir.”

  Coach looks at me, and I shake my head quickly. It’s a lie, but I’m hoping my sudden terror—I wasn’t supposed to be dragged into this—masks it.

  He throws a picture across the desk. Caleb grabs it before it slides off and hits the floor, taking one glance at it. He winces. He doesn’t even show me—he just tears it in half, and then in half again.

  “I got rid of this,” Caleb says in a low voice. “Where—”

  “A note,” Coach says. He holds up the piece of paper that accompanied the picture. “I’ll read this out loud, and you can tell me what sort of bullshit we’re dealing with.”

  He clears his throat.

  “Coach Marzden,” he reads. “Your teams are held to a high standard. I, along with the rest of the school—faculty and parents include
d, I’m sure—find this admirable. We’ve watched the determination and focus of your football and lacrosse teams go to national championships because they avoid distractions.

  “Parties. Girls. Drinking. You understand best of all how detrimental this is to our athletes.

  “I’m disheartened to report that your star lacrosse player, Caleb Asher, has been seen doing all three of the aforementioned distractions. His scandalous fling with Margo Wolfe was even caught on camera, as seen by the evidence. This photo was passed around the school, right under the administration’s noses.

  “If this is what student leadership is, then I am ashamed to attend Emery-Rose and be represented by such monstrous boys. Get your team under control, Coach.

  “Sincerely, Unknown.”

  Caleb scoffs. “They didn’t even sign their name?”

  I swallow. It sounds worse read out loud, my name coming out of Coach’s mouth. The foul accusations…

  You wanted this.

  “What do you have to say for yourself, Ms. Wolfe?”

  “I’ve been harassed by someone via text messages for months.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. It wasn’t in the plan to admit this. “Their number showed up as Unknown. It seems fishy that this person would sign their name as Unknown, too…”

  “You’ve been getting harassed?” Caleb whispers. “What the fuck, Margo?”

  “Language,” Coach snaps. “Show me.”

  I bite my lip and slide my phone to him. He scrolls through the messages, his scowl deepening.

  “What happened with Ian?”

  I jerk. “What?”

  “The last message is from you. ‘Why did you help me with Ian?’”

  “Um…”

  Caleb’s gaze is on me, too.

  I suppose I dug myself into this hole. “Ian…”

  “Beat her in the woods,” Caleb finishes, not looking away from me. “And I found her.”

  He was gentle.

  My stomach still hurts if I move the wrong way, but I’m mostly okay. My skin is still tinted yellow from fading bruises, and the bite mark on my wrist scabbed over. I keep it covered. With everything that’s happened, I forgot about the attack—and the aftermath.

  I blink back tears.

  Coach grunts. I have the feeling he doesn’t often deal with girls, much less crying ones.

  “The note is a lie,” Caleb says. “The photo—”

  “Blackmail,” Coach finishes. He shakes his head and slides a travel pack of tissues to me.

  I grab one and blow my nose.

  “Still, this is the type of thing you need to avoid.” Coach leans back in his chair. “You’re to be the picture-perfect lacrosse captain.”

  Caleb shakes his head. “I don’t party. I don’t drink. And Margo—”

  I glance at him. Margo, what? What lie is he going to spin now?

  “We’re dating,” he finishes smoothly. “What happens outside of that is our business.”

  Coach Marzden appraises us, and it’s hard not to squirm.

  “You two didn’t break up?”

  Caleb raises his eyebrows. If Coach wasn’t analyzing our expressions, I’m sure he’d be smirking at me.

  Gotcha, he seems to say.

  Except… he’s underestimating me. Again. He’s expecting me to save him—but the whole point of this was the opposite. To ruin him.

  “We did break up, Coach.” I stand, straightening my skirt. “I’ve told him repeatedly, and he doesn’t get it. Frankly, he borders on stalkerish sometimes.”

  Coach’s mouth drops open.

  “And your—how did they say it? Star lacrosse player?—is a liar.” I snatch my phone from the table and shoulder my bag, leaving his office.

  It feels good to walk away from them. It didn’t unfold the way I imagined—I had more of a direct hand in his destruction, unfortunately—but it’s still… I’m lighter. I slip into class and shrug apologetically at the teacher.

  I was supposed to go to tryouts and watch Caleb get reamed out by his coach. Maybe he’d even be forced to try out, too, and suffer the consequences of being a total asshole. But I should’ve expected that Coach Marzden wouldn’t follow the rules. Sav mentioned he was once held in as high regard as the golden boys are. He was a legend back in his day.

  And now… he shapes other legends.

  He’s going to let Caleb get away with it, I can feel it in my bones. No matter what I say, Coach and Caleb have more of a bond… or something. I don’t fucking know.

  Amelie will get brought down by Sav’s side of the plan. But me?

  I’m afraid I might be on the receiving end of Caleb’s anger.

  14

  Caleb

  “A liar, hmm?” Coach asks me. “What am I going to do with you?”

  I grunt. “I wasn’t lying. We’re dating. She just doesn’t want to see reason.”

  Every fiber of my being chants, She’s mine, she’s mine. It isn’t my fault she doesn’t see it. That she doesn’t agree. She eventually will. And I can’t even be mad that she’s finally showing a spine.

  Not such a little sheep after all.

  No, Margo’s becoming a wolf, and God does that turn me on.

  I’m a sick fucker, thinking about Margo while Coach is glaring at me. I think he realizes that, because his face contorts.

  “Do I strip you of the captaincy?”

  I stare at him.

  “Maybe call your mother?”

  He’s fishing for a punishment that will hurt the most.

  “Your uncle would probably have something to say,” Coach says. His eyes gleam, showing me a side of him that he rarely lets out. He’s as twisted as me.

  “Coach—”

  “You’re going to make me the list of colleges that you’re applying to, and I’ll have a chat with your uncle about your behavior. You’re coming off the rails, son.”

  Ridiculous. I stand. “That it?”

  He stands, too. “The list by the end of next week, or you’re off the team.”

  My eyes widen. “What?”

  “You heard me. I’m sure the guys will be able to pick up the slack.”

  I bite my cheek. “You got it.”

  “Oh, and Caleb? Don’t bother going to tryouts. I don’t want to see your face until next week.”

  He’s dead serious.

  My whole body gets hot. I storm out without looking back, doing my best to control my fury. Everything is slipping out of my control. Instead of going to class, I go to the greenhouse and pace. Uncle is going to retaliate against me—it’s just a matter of time. The longer he takes, the more I’m going to fixate on it.

  The bell rings, and I head toward Mr. Jenkins’s class. Margo will probably avoid me, and that’s for the best.

  I stop dead.

  If I go into that class and she doesn’t so much as fucking look at me, I’m going to lose it.

  “Caleb?”

  I spin around, meeting Margo’s gaze.

  “Are you…?”

  “Okay?” I finish. “Just dandy.”

  She moves around me, and I follow. Again. I can’t help it.

  “You didn’t tell me you were being harassed.”

  She glances back. “I thought it might be you.”

  “What convinced you it wasn’t?”

  “Nothing,” she says. “It could still be you.”

  I grunt. “It isn’t.”

  She spins around, pushing me against a wall. I widen my eyes, breath caught in my throat. Damn it, that was sexy.

  “Savannah texted you the photo of Ian and me,” she says. “True or false?”

  “True.”

  “Unknown sent me the same picture.” She bites her lip. “I don’t think it’s Savannah. It can’t be.”

  I shrug. “I can’t help you.”

  She leans into me, rising on her toes to meet my gaze. “Why not?”

  Because I have an idea of who’s texting you, and it might kill you.

  I lift my hand, wrapping it ar
ound a lock of her hair. “You’re beautiful when you’re mad.”

  She frowns. “I’m not.”

  “You are,” I argue. Her hair slips through my fingers. I touch her neck, enjoying her slight shiver. I doubt she even notices. But she’s letting me run my fingers down her shoulder and back up.

  I cup the back of her neck, and she just exhales slightly.

  My chest aches.

  I lean down, stopping just before my lips brush hers.

  “You wrote the note,” I whisper.

  She tries to jerk back, but I hold her fast. I might be backed up against the wall, but we’ve traded control.

  “You wrote it hoping to get back at me, didn’t you? You wanted to pin it on the person texting you because it’s the most believable lie.” I lick my lips, and my tongue touches hers, too.

  Her whole body hitches.

  “I did,” she says. “I wanted you to feel—”

  “The pain you felt?” My grip on her neck tightens. “Newsflash, little wolf. I’ve been carrying this feeling around since I was ten. And you just—”

  “I forgot.” She looks away. Tears fill her eyes, spill down her cheeks. “I don’t want to forget. I want answers.”

  “I know.” I reach up with my other hand, catching tears on my thumb.

  When she tries to pull away, I let her. She takes a few quick steps back. Her eyes are wide, like she can’t believe we actually had a conversation. I gave her answers. She gave them back.

  Maybe not in the way either of us was expecting, but…

  The bell rings, shattering my thoughts.

  Poor Margo flinches again, then reaches for my hand. “We’re going to be late.”

  She tows me down the hall to Robert’s class. We slip inside, and Robert stops talking mid-sentence.

  “Margo. Caleb,” he says in a low voice. “You’re late.”

  “Sorry,” she says, releasing me. “Won’t happen again.”

  He shakes his head but motions for us to take our seats. There are only two spots left, and they’re not close to each other. If we’d gotten here on time, I might’ve been able to switch. As it is, her foster dad is glaring at me like I just ate his pet.

  We make it through class unscathed, and I catch Margo in the hallway.

  “Don’t go to tryouts,” I tell her.

  “Didn’t you invite me?” she asks. “Or do you not…”