Abyss (Elements of Rapture Book 4)

12. Kavi

KAVI

The thunderous roars of two modified Dodge Challengers halt our conversation on the front concrete steps of Everbrook Bay Academy. My stomach sinks, beckoning my legs to move faster than they can.

“Fuck,” Nathan groans, squeezing his eyes shut while his face goes ashen.

I reach for his elbow, trying to pull him along, while random students avoid running into us on the stairs. “Let’s just get inside. They’re not going to do anything with teachers around.”

Nathan tugs his arm from my grasp, a defeated expression settled over his features. “It’s fine, Kav. The deadline was yesterday. Gotta face the music someday.”

I place my fists on my hips. “Then let me talk to them. Let me explain the situation—”

“No!” His expression hardens. “I don’t want you getting involved. I got myself into this. If I have to beg and plead to get myself out, I will.” He runs a hand over his face. “It’s not like telling them my asshole dad is in jail will win me any sympathy points. I told you what they said when I took the loan. ‘Overdue debts have—’”

“‘A darkness clause,’” I repeat along with him. “What does that mean, though? What kind of darkness clause?”

He shrugs as heavy footsteps sound behind us, making the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “I guess I’ll find out.”

A large hand lands on Nathan’s shoulder, and we both turn to face Vance and his crew of heathens. He flashes his teeth at me, reminding me of the shark from Jaws, before addressing Nathan, “There’s my boy! How’s it going, Nate? I was looking all over for you yesterday. Looks like you snuck out on me a little early after last period, though, huh?” His fingers tighten over Nathan’s thin shoulder, making him wince. “No worries, though. I’m here now. Ready to settle up? I take cash or . . .” he smirks at his friends, “cash.”

The two girls in the circle, Josephine and Paulina, look me up and down, lingering on the hole in my white polo uniform shirt, before giggling. No doubt they’re sending silent signals to each other.

My anger flares and I grasp Vance’s forearm. “Why don’t you get your hand off him, you worthless scum?”

He makes an exaggerated frown, his midnight hair contrasting with his pale skin. “Aww. That’s sweet.” He looks at Nathan, squeezing his shoulder tighter. “Isn’t it, Nate? She might look like the filth my cat dragged in last night, but at least you have someone who cares about your measly life.” He steps closer to me, grasping a strand of my hair and curling it around his index finger. “I’m sure she wouldn’t look as hideous after a shower and clothes that didn’t come from the literal garbage.”

“She could stand to lose the baby fat that’s stuck around for ten years too long, too,” Josephine adds, making everyone but Nathan and I giggle.

I slap Vance’s hand off me. “You’re an asshole.” I glare at the rest of them. “You all are.”

They chuckle, fist-bumping each other, before Vance’s face goes blank, bringing a chill to the late September air. “It’s called business, sweetheart.” His eyes drop to my old, battered sneakers. “Something you wouldn’t understand. I gave him a loan to bail his junkie father out of the sitch a month ago. He was well-fucking-aware when he came to me that he’d need to pay me back by yesterday, with interest, or follow the darkness clause.”

My eyes narrow on Vance’s black ones—fucking black like the pits of hell. “And what is this so-called darkness clause?”

Vance puts his hands into the pockets of his uniform khakis before lifting his shoulders nonchalantly. “Whatever we decide. Think of it as . . .” he snaps his fingers, looking around as if actually trying to grasp a word from the air, “a dare.”

My heart races inside my chest, watching Nathan fidget. How could he put himself in this position? How could he take money from the one guy everyone at our whole fucking school knows not to get involved with?

I get that he felt desperate and had no one else to turn to—no one else who had the means to get his dad out of the thousands of dollars he owed to his fucking coke dealer—but to shake hands with a lowlife like Vance? What was he thinking?

Did he learn nothing from what happened to Chris Padilla last year?

Chris was in a bind and needed money for God knows what. Rumors were rampant; some said it was to settle his mom’s hospital bills, others said he was trying to get his mom out of a bad situation with his stepdad. Regardless of the real story, he sought help from the school’s richest and most conniving loan shark, Vance.

Two months later, his body was found in one of Sarasota’s campgrounds.

What I don’t understand in Chris’ situation is why he didn’t ask his rich girlfriend at the time for the money. In a school where practically everyone is the spawn of a Silicon Valley elite, the exceptions being a handful like Chris, Nathan, and myself—the lucky few admitted through some social charity quota—with pockets deeper than Santa’s gift sack, why not ask someone else? Literally anyone else!

I knew that wasn’t an option for Nathan, given that his social standing was possibly worse than mine. Still, I swear I want to slap my best friend right now.

My best fucking friend, who is not only the kindest-hearted kid I’ve ever known, but my ride-or-die in every situation since the first day of kindergarten when we argued about which of Dr. Seuss” books was the best, only to agree that it was Oh, The Places You’ll Go! after a healthy ten-minute debate involving tears and some amateur name-calling.

The compassionate, albeit anxious, kid who lent me a hand while everyone else laughed when I fell after getting hit with a tetherball.

The fun-loving kid who’d go trick-or-treating with me, year after year, and who’d bring his sister along to spend Christmases at my house because both his parents were passed out drunk or stoned on their couch.

I want to slap the living daylights out of him at this very moment for being reckless enough to ask Vance for even a dollar.

If he had told me even a week ago, we could have figured something out. Maybe I could have asked Dad for a loan, not that he has much to spare, but I know he would have done whatever he could. Maybe I could have asked Alisha—the only girl in our school who continues to be my friend, despite being in the rich kids’ crew. Maybe I could have started a Go Fund Me or something, I don’t know. Anything would have been better than this.

But he literally told me last night when I asked him why he snuck out of AP English early. After telling him I wanted to murder him for being so stupid, we both sat with our heads in our hands in my room, trying to figure out what to do next.

My dad was out of town for work, and Alisha never picked up her phone. Even if we’d gotten a hold of them, I knew it wouldn’t be as simple as just asking for five grand. The money was nothing to sneeze at, and they’d ask questions—questions that could get everyone into more trouble.

God, I fucking hate Nathan’s dad more than I ever have. Even more than when he beat the shit out of Nathan two years ago for coming home a half hour past curfew.

And as much as I’m secretly relieved that he’s in jail for being caught dealing a portion of his coke to some other junkie, I hate that he left Nathan saddled with having to pay off his dealer. Fucking cretin.

It’s the last thing my best friend needs, between taking care of the rest of his family and dealing with his panic attacks and anxiety.

The bell rings, snapping me out of my thoughts as I watch Nathan’s shoulders slump.

He clears his throat, trying to find his voice as a few stranglers eye us as they run up the steps. “Wh-what sort of dare?”

Vance’s smile widens, his head turning from his crony Dan to Miles, before addressing Nathan, “Since you’re asking, I’m assuming you couldn’t come through with my money.”

Nathan’s face falls. “I . . . I tried. I’ve been working extra hours at the drive-thru and have about a grand I can give you right now—”

Vance tsks, that evil gleam in his eyes. “A grand is not five grand plus interest, now is it, my friend? You’d think that with the free education my parents’ charitable donations provide for your schooling here at this world-renowned establishment,” he tilts his head toward the entrance of our school, “you’d at least have paid attention in math class.”

Nathan rubs a hand over the back of his neck, likely wiping off sweat. “Could you possibly give me an extension? Another month?”

Vance nods solemnly, and a part of me hopes that might be his answer, before he throws back his head, barking out a laugh into the clear blue sky. Suddenly snapping his mouth shut, he leans closer to Nathan, making him flinch. “No. I’ve already made a tiny exception for you, given I didn’t show up at the disgusting little trailer you call home last night and drag your ass out. Today is the day overdue debts are paid.”

I can see the tremble in Nathan’s hand, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. “Alright. Tell me whatever this darkness clause is, then.”

Vance, Dan, and Miles exchange glances before Vance rubs his hands together, as if excited about the prospect of doling out the punishment. He probably is, the sick fuck. “Meet us in the parking lot at five, eh?” He slaps an arm around Nathan’s shoulder, pulling him into his side. “I think you’ll be happy to know your darkness clause might actually be fun.”

I shake my head, placing my hand on Nathan’s elbow. “Nathan, don’t. You know he’s lying. You know whatever he wants you to do is going to be fun for everyone but you. Let’s talk—”

Vance snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Wake up, chubby cheeks. There isn’t much to talk about. The terms were clear for your little friend Nate here: pay up on time or pay the price. The rich don’t get richer by making exceptions.”

I glower at him, my index in his face, even though I’m scared shitless. “Says who? I could walk into Principal Larson’s office right now and—”

Vance and his friends burst out with hearty laughs before he shakes his head at me. “You’re not new here. Take stock of your surroundings. Our great grandparents literally built this school from the ground up. Every fucking dollar, including what goes into that potbellied excuse for a principal’s bank account, is funded by our families.” He points at himself, leaning in to meet my eyes. “Funded by me. I’d be really fucking careful before you go stirring a pot of soup you don’t intend to eat, you feel me? You wouldn’t want your little brother never coming up for air when he goes over to your neighbor’s pool to swim, would you?”

The fuck?

Every hair on my body points skyward. How the hell does he know Neil swims at our neighbor’s pool? How the hell does he even know where I live?!

Before I can string a coherent sentence together, the five of them start up the stairs. Paulina shoves my shoulder with hers as she passes me, while Josephine glares. “Stay in your lane, trash bag. It’s in your best interest.”

Vance turns around at the top of the stairs, a creepy smirk tipping up his thin lips at Nathan. “Five o’clock, Nate. Don’t make me wait.”

“You can’t go, Nathan!”I whisper-yell from my seat at the back of Ms. DeLaney’s pre-calculus class three hours later.

We’d been separated all this time with different schedules, but I haven’t been able to think about anything but the fact that my best friend is supposed to meet the school’s most feared bully in a few hours.

I wish I could talk to someone. I wish we had friends—any friends at all—who could help. But no one would go against Vance and his clan, not even Alisha.

I could potentially text or call Dad, but he’s still in Chicago for work, and Mom would probably say I’m inflating the issue. Or she’d tell me to go talk to Principal Larson, which is basically like talking to no one at all. Or worse.

What if Vance does to Neil what I know in my gut he did to Chris?

Nathan keeps his focus at the front of the class, speaking in minced words. You never know who is listening from Vance’s crew, so it’s important we keep our voices low. “Dan was in history with me last period. He said, apparently, we’ll be going on a drive.”

My heart stutters. “What do you mean, a drive? A drive where?! That is exactly how people get abducted!”

He shrugs. “What other choice do I have? He’s not going to let me off the hook unless I chalk up his money by today, and I can’t do that.”

“Go to the police! I’ll come with y—”

Nathan’s head snaps to me. “Do you even know what that would mean? I have a fucking little sister to think about. Not to mention, my good-for-nothing mother. Who knows what Vance and his asshole friends are capable of?”

I huff. “Then I’m going with you. I’m not letting you go—”

“No, you’re not, Kav. This doesn’t concern you.”

“I don’t care. I’m—”

“Ms. Jain, is there something you’d like to share with the rest of the class that is more important than parametric and polar curves?” Ms. DeLaney’s voice rings across the sounds of papers shuffling, kids turning around in their seats to face me and Nathan curiously.

I shake my head, wishing I could scream, “Yes, there is something more fucking important,” but I can’t.

I zone out for the rest of class, staring at Nathan’s profile, hoping my sixteen-year-old brain will magically come up with an answer.

I’m doing the same thing during our last period, wondering where the hell Vance is planning to take Nathan. Hoping that, somewhere inside his vampire-looking visage, he has a soul, some humanity.

Right around the middle of last period, I’ve decided to go along with Nathan to wherever it is Vance is taking him. I don’t care if Nathan doesn’t want me to. If he’s my ride-or-die, then I’m his, too, aren’t I?

The thought of going along makes me feel better—maybe I can convince the assholes to take it easy, or maybe I can even sneak a few pictures for evidence of whatever they’re doing.

Pulling out my phone conspicuously, making sure Mr. Patterson, our chemistry teacher, is still turned toward the board, I quickly text Mom, letting her know I won”t need a ride today and that I’ll be going to help our art teacher clean up the classroom and set up fresh supplies for tomorrow. Mom will buy the lie, given I was Ms. Ahmad’s favorite art student.

I’m just putting my phone back when a folded note is placed on my desk by the girl sitting in front of me.

My brows knit as I pick it up to read it.

Meet me near the storage rooms in the basement at four-thirty. I think I know how to help your friend. I don’t want to see him get hurt. -JA

The only person the initials could belong to, and who would know the context for what’s going on, is Josephine Andrews. I blink at the words, rereading them a couple of more times. Why would she want to help Nathan?

I raise my head, looking around the classroom. Is this a trap?

Why would she tell me to meet her in the basement? Perhaps to ensure no one sees us, since kids hardly go down there without teacher instruction. But Josephine’s older sister is one of the freshman history teachers, so maybe she swiped her keycard?

Tapping the girl in front of me, I wait for her to turn around before whispering, “Who gave this to you?”

“Aster,” she replies before turning back around. It’s clear from her body language she doesn’t want any more questions.

Aster is one of Josephine’s minions, so I suppose my assumption for the initials checks out. Aster isn’t someone I loathe quite as much as Josephine and Paulina, but I wouldn’t say we’re friendly with each other, either.

Hell, there aren’t many in this school who are friendly with me.

I haven’t ever been physically bullied here, thankfully. I haven’t had girls gang up on me or my clothes stolen out of the girls’ locker room.

But the cuts that inflict the deepest wounds aren’t meant for the eyes. They’re hidden behind cruel words that echo in the quiet of the night, that grate at the depths of your soul, reminding you of how little you’re worth.

“Street trash.”

“Ugly heifer. Have you seen how her thighs jiggle when she walks? Gross.”

“Heard her dad makes the same amount as our lawn guy.”

“Heard her and her little brother have to share a room. Incest much?”

Not overthinking the reasons behind the note, I rush out of class. Placing my books inside my locker, I walk down to the basement floor, standing in front of a door that can only be unlocked with a special keycard.

I wiggle the locked knob, wondering how I’m supposed to get inside, when the door swings open. It’s not just Josephine on the other side, but Paulina, too.

I eye them warily, about to speak, when a head-throttling punch has me flying backward. The shockwaves of pain barely register as I succumb to unconsciousness.

God, why do I feel so out of it? What the hell happened?

And Jesus, why does my head feel like it’s going to topple over?

Only partial whispered words resound in my ears as I feebly struggle against the cold, unyielding floor. I open my eyes weakly but see nothing. Even as I try to blink, my eyes don’t seem to adjust to the dark.

I reach my hand out, feeling a wall in front of me. “Hey!” I scream, shoving the wall before turning around as panic and bile rise within me. I can’t see a fucking thing. My fingers tremble over the other side of what feels like a vertical coffin. I run my hand up and down, noticing the change of texture—wood. Is . . . is this a door? Feeling my way down, I find a metal doorknob, but it’s completely immovable as I shake it.

“Hey! Let me out!” I scream, slamming my hand over the door as hard as I can. “Hey, assholes! Let me the fuck out!”

How the fuck did I get in here? How did they bring me in here?

God, my head. I wince when my fingers brush over my temple.

I pat my pockets for my phone, but I can’t find it. Fuck! The cretins took that, too.

Hearing people outside, I press my ear to the door gingerly.

“Aster heard her and Nathan mumbling in DeLaney’s class . . . wanting to tag along.” The voice sounds like Josephine’s.

“Yeah, well, she isn’t going to be tagging along for a while.” A male voice, perhaps Dan’s, rises somewhat above the sounds of various machines in the boiler room. Is he the one who punched me? “Text Vance. Let him know she won’t be a problem.”

“What if she rats us out?”

A chuckle leaves his mouth, his voice a little louder, knowing I’m awake, what with all my screaming. “What’s she going to say when she hasn’t seen jack shit? And as for when they ask who put her in there?” There’s a pause and another dark chuckle, wrapped in a promise. “Well, if she loves her brother, she’ll keep her trap shut.”