“Holy shit!” Nora ran up beside me, skidding to a stop. “What are you doing? They’re insane, Drew you can’t egg them on!”
“Nora, he pissed in my car! Not like I was just going to sit there and watch.” And I may very well get murdered over it, but what the hell could I do now?
Nora offered to take me home. The entire drive she rambled about how awful Bellamy and Hendrix were, making Hendrix’s brother, Zepp, out to be nothing short of a complete monster who belonged behind the bars he’d evidently been placed behind.
I directed her down my street and to my drive, and when she pulled in, she gasped. “Holy. Shit. Your house is massive.”
I stared past the manicured lawn to the brick home. Between both my parents, I’d lived in god knows how many big houses. Each time I came to visit them from boarding school, I missed my shared dorm with Genevieve. That was home. This—this was miserable, which was why I had spent more time at Olivia’s than my dad’s since I’d arrived.
“You wanna come in?” I asked as I climbed out.
Beaming, she hopped out of the car and followed me to the front of the house. Then I remembered that the entire house was still destroyed, and I froze. It was too late now, I’d already invited her in.
“So... The house is a bit of a mess.”
“I don’t care.”
“Yeah, well...” I shoved the key in the lock.
The door swung open to the empty foyer. The Several holes in the wall where artwork once hung. I glanced in the living room, surprised to see that everything was gone. All the broken furniture had been removed, leaving behind only the chandelier and a rug.
“So, we’ll have to go up to one of the spare rooms if you want to watch TV.” I started toward the stairs, and Nora strayed behind me, mouth agape as she took in the carnage.
“What happened?”
“Break in.”
She stopped on the bottom step, her eyes widening. “Holy shit, they took everything.”
I didn’t have the energy to explain that they had, in fact taken northing, and now that I thought about it, that was weird. They sold weed. Surely they’d hock a TV? But I had a feeling Bellamy just wanted to send a violent message.
Halfway through an episode of Sex and the City that I’d seen a thousand times, my phone dinged.
Dickhead: Just so you know, I spent my time in the slammer beating one out to the thought of what I was gonna do to you when I got out
Me: You get off on breaking into people’s houses and scaring them with a baseball bat?
Dickhead: People? Nah... You, fuck yes.
Me: You’re sick
Dickhead: And you think you aren’t?
Dickhead: Daddy issues...
Bad, bad, bad.
I glanced across the bed to Nora, who was still engrossed in the TV.
Me: We done now?
Dickhead: Depends...
No. I was done with Bellamy West. At least that’s what I told myself…
11
Drew
I stood in the middle of the crowded hallway, staring at the text on my phone: Hope you’re enjoying the new school, darling. Bisous. - Irina
My mother.
Who refused to let me call her anything but Irina. And who evidently had no idea what type of school Dayton was or I’d hope to God she’d have curbed my father. Just as I went to reply, someone smacked the phone from my hands.
“Barrington whore.”
A group of girls laughed as they parted around me, Nikki standing pride of place among them with a bitchy smile radiating off her face before they moved on. God, she was pathetic. They couldn’t even come up with something more original—Barrington Whore had been Sharpied across my locker. Looked like the conversation I’d overheard Bellamy and her having did fuck all.
Sighing, I dropped to a knee to reach for my phone, but just as I did, someone else snatched it up.
“Hey, Drewbie.” Hendrix smiled, flicking his finger against my knuckles before straightening.
A crisscross of SpongeBob Band-Aids decorated his forehead, reminding me that I’d almost accidentally knocked him out.
“Hendrix,” I groaned as I stood. “Give it back.”
“Patience.” He started down the hall, fiddling with my phone as he maneuvered around students.
“Hendrix!” I jogged after him.
“Call me Daddy and I’ll give it back.”
“You’re gross.” When I made a grab for my phone, he ducked away.
“Oh, come on. You gotta have some titty and beaver shots in here somewhere.” On a shake of his head, he chucked the device at me, then headed toward the Men’s room. “You disappoint me, rich girl.”
I flipped him off before rounding the corner and heading toward history. I took a seat and my phone vibrated in my pocket, probably my mother sending a picture of her new yacht.
Unknown Number: I’m taking a shit right now. I need moral support. It’s a burner.
I didn’t need to ask who it was. I dropped the phone to the desk, refusing to acknowledge how vile Hendrix was. A few seconds later, it buzzed again, and a picture of a curled turd popped up on the screen. And that—was another level entirely.
Mr. Weaver was halfway through a lecture on the America Revolution when the intercom system crackled. “Could Drucella Morgan come to the office please?”
The class snickered, repeating my godawful first name, and I cursed my parents for the millionth time for apparently loathing me from birth. I pushed up from my seat and made my way through the empty hallways to the office, wondering why I was being called in. Maybe someone had said something about my car getting damaged on school property. Doubtful. Everyone in this school was up Bellamy and Hendrix’s ass.
When I stepped through the glass doorway, the secretary looked up. “Miss Morgan?”
“Yeah?”
“Coach Todd told me that you have a grass allergy, but…” She flipped through several pages in a chart while shoving her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “It’s not listed on your medical records. I’ll just need you to sign a form so we can add it. And you’ll need to bring in an EpiPen as well.”
Who knew Dayton High would actually care about their students dying? “Oh, it’s not that serious. I just get a rash.” That sounded plausible…I thought.
She peered over the rim of her glasses, one pencil-drawn eyebrow quirked. “A rash?”
“Yep.”
On a sigh, she pushed up from behind her desk. “Let me get a different form then…”
While I waited, two guys in baggy, Star Wars shirts walked in. They slumped into the chairs beside the principal’s office, fidgeting and wiping sweat from their brows.
“He’s gonna kill us.”
“If we don’t turn someone in, we’ll get expelled.”
Expelled. I looked away and stared at the printer on the back table, trying not to make it obvious I was eavesdropping on their whispered conversation.
“But if West gets expelled, Hunt will murder us.” A small whimper leaked through his lips. “Hunt’s crazy.”
“But if we give another name, someone else will get expelled, and they didn’t do it.” Well, at least they had a conscience.