7. Kai
Chapter 7
Kai
The temperature’s already dropping in the evenings, the warm afternoon sun dipping too quickly behind the hills this suburb is known for. Night in Hillside might not get as cold as they do down at Riverside, but there’s a reason this area is deserted come Christmas.
A large majority of us end up in the Hamptons, or Palm Beach.
A smaller handful take it to the next level and go to Aspen to improve their snowboarding and binge drinking skills.
Mom mentioned something about Napa, but I can’t remember if she planned that over the Christmas break, or only in the new year. I don’t even know if I’ll go with them. This year is quickly becoming one of those make-or-break moments in my life.
My footfalls ring loudly off the curb as I stride down Maple Row, the sound becoming hollow as I trot up the wooden porch steps leading to the NEX frat house’s front door. I take out my key and let myself in, expecting the usual ambient noises—at least two flat screens in different rooms set to different channels, one finance, one sports, someone using the blender in the kitchen, guys with too many beers or whiskies in them shouting to be heard over the other—but I’m met with silence.
Fuck, am I late? Ezra gets so fucking pissy when I don’t arrive on time.
I race up the stairs, barely registering the Neoclassical paintings and polished brass fixtures I zoom past. A thick Persian rug swallows the sound of my approach, but none of the guys look surprised when I fling open the door to the War Room.
They’re too busy arguing.
“—told you I was fucking sorry, but if you’re gonna be a fucking bitch about it, I’ll?—“
“…guys…”
“—tell him he’s being an ass? Someone’s gotta do it.”
“… guys …”
“I fucking loved her, man!” Nolan blurts out, and I swear there are tears in his eyes.
Ezra shoots to his feet, slamming his fists on the table. “Guys!” Then he looks up and sees me, and his face clears.
Nolan, and Myles must have been going at it for ages if he’s this pissed already.
“What the fuck did I miss?” I ask, grabbing the closest chair and swiveling it around so I drop into the seat. Dark leather harshly contoured to the smooth, ergonomic shape with brass studs, paired with the dark oak wood panels, make this room feel like a portal into hell.
“He fucked Mandy,” Nolan yells, stabbing savagely in Myles’s direction. “He knew was I into her, and he fucking fucked her anyway.”
Myles leans forward over the table, a wicked grin on his mouth. “In the ass.” He lifts his hand, holding up two fingers. “Twice.”
Nolan thumps the table with his fist, grabbing the armrests of his chair and swiveling half-way around like he can’t even stand to look at Myles.
“See?” Ezra mutters just loud enough for me to hear. “This is what happens when you’re late. There’s time for small talk, and then someone realizes someone was fucking their girl, and…” Ezra sighs heavily and runs a hand down the front of his pastel pink polo shirt.
It shouldn’t look good on any guy, but Ezra could pull off a flamingo pool floatie without trying. Even the popped collar only makes it look more effortless.
My older brother got the best of our folks’ genes, and I was left with the scraps. Sucks to be last in line, like anywhere.
Myles is still chuckling to himself, twirling the edge of his ironic hipster mustache like a super villain when Ezra taps his gavel.
“This brings the second caucus of the semester to order,” he says.
The War Room is large, but it feels crowded with ten frat guys inside. Even with the air conditioning on full blast, the place always reeks of beer, cigarettes, and BO. You’d swear the guys in this meeting could afford some super strength antiperspirant, but I know of at least one guy who doesn’t bother.
Austin tucks a stray curl behind his ear like it will somehow improve his look, but if genes were a buffet and I was last in line, he got held up at the salad bar. Red, tightly curled hair. Watery blue eyes. So many freckles on his face it’s hard to figure out where they start and his pale skin ends.
It’s common knowledge he’s given up attracting a mate—male or female—so now he spends all his time playing video games and binge-watching anime shows.
I guess he doesn’t have the time, or the need, for deodorant.
Done with the initial crap we have to sit through at the start of every meeting, Ezra moves onto the agenda.
“First order of business?—”
“Getting Myles kicked the fuck out,” Nolan mutters, crossing his arms over his doughy chest and further rumpling an already wrinkled khaki dress shirt.
Maybe if Nolan put more effort into his outfits, Myles wouldn’t waylay his crushes. Not that Myles has a ton of style—he wears designer threads purposefully made to look like vintage scores. He looks hipster as fuck, but he still thinks upcycling is only something Tour de France competitors need to know about.
“Fuck’s sake,” Ezra murmurs under his breath. “I meant important shit.” He points his gavel at me. “Like Haven Lee.”
Everyone turns to look at me, even the frat guy who’s always so busy on his phone I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to him. Most of us don’t even know his name, we just call him iPhone. We think he’s a day trader or something.
“Yeah?” I say. “What about her?”
“I saw her today. Walked right past her in the hallway,” Ezra says. “Had so many books in her arms she could barely see where she was going. What’s up with that, bro?”
“It’s all good.” I cross my arms over my chest and shrug. “I’ve got it under control.”
“Then why is she still here ?” Ezra leans in, looking down his nose at me. We’ve got the same one, but it looks different on his face somehow. Maybe it’s because his eyes are a darker green than mine, or his hair is in a carefully styled faux hawk, not my always-too-long mess.
“You’re right,” I muse. “I should just strangle her and dump her body in the river. Then it would all be over real quick.”
“Better if it looks like a suicide.” Everyone turns to Dahmer.
That’s not his real name, but he looks like a serial killer, and we’re pretty sure he’s into guys. Also, the glasses. If anyone should be forced to wear contact lenses, it’s him.
He doesn’t seem to care…about anything. Which only made the nickname stick that much harder. “Make it look like she jumped out a window or something.”
Jace’s crucifix rasps as he drags it along the golden chain on his neck. “God punishes murderers, even if they get away with it.” If Jace’s parents didn’t own half the town, he wouldn’t even be here. He creeps everyone out, even Dahmer.
Ezra rolls his eyes. “We don’t want her dead, just gone. Have you even, you know—“ he makes a tumbling motion with his hands, “— interacted with her?”
“Yeah, of course. I’m playing the long game.”
“The longer you play , the more she drains the school’s finances,” Austin says. “Every year these losers get a scholarship, or some grant or something, and every year we get rid of them.” He’s become jaded lately, I won’t lie. Dude needs to get laid.
“I told you, get me three good shots of her face, and I’ll Photoshop enough revenge porn for you to open an OnlyFans page,” Myles says.
“Ooh, get pics of her feet!” Nolan blurts out, jabbing a finger at Austin. “Guys love that fetish crap.”
“Do we?” Myles asks dryly.
“Feet are hot,” iPhone mumbles, his eyes back on his phone.
Jesus. What if he has a serious porn addiction, and he’s just scrolling through hardcore fetish videos all day?
“Guys!” Ezra slams the gavel. Breathes out a centering breath. Points the gavel at me. “I want her gone, Kai. I don’t fucking care how much fun you had tying her up in the woods or whatever shit you used to do back then. That trailer trash whore doesn’t belong here.”
I open my mouth, but fuck it if I’m not at a loss for words.
That Ezra is my older brother and the Campaign Manager of our fraternity sucks on so many levels. He knows exactly where to pinch, so it’ll hurt the worst.
“Mess with her grades or something,” Myles says, twirls his mustache again, a villain pondering his next maniacal scheme. “These charity cases need high grades or they’ll get kicked out. You’re Rooke’s TA. Manipulate that shit.”
I turn to Myles. “Yeah? And how the fuck would I do that without Rooke coming down on me like a ton of fucking bricks?”
“I dunno.”
“He’s right,” Ezra says. “You were adamant you took that TA position because it would open a bunch of doors. Well, when God closes a window—” the gavel swings toward Jace, then back to me “—you’d better open a fucking door.”
There’s a lighthearted tone to his voice, like he’s just going along with this fucked up rhetoric…but then his gaze laser focuses.
That’s the Ezra I know and fear.
“Don’t fuck this up, bro.”
I shut my room door and grunt as I collapse onto my queen bed.
The memory foam upper feels so fucking good I just want to kick off my shoes and crawl under the covers.
But I have two assignments due, and Ezra said the social committee needed help with the fucking Rain Dance party coming up in a couple of weeks. Now I have to go to some bullshit sorority hookup and discuss, I dunno, how many solo cups and streamers we need to buy?
Fighting the urge to nap, because I know it will last until tomorrow morning if I risk it, I heave myself up and drag my backpack closer.
I don’t even have the strength to go to the kitchen and grab a snack before I head out, so I dig through my stuff and find a half-crushed bag of crisps and some M&M’s that fell out of the packet I had today, and are now collecting lint at the bottom of my bag.
My snacks are hitting just the right spot until I examine the last M&M for lint.
Green M&M’s were Haven’s favorite.
Used to make her arm wrestle me for all the green ones in my pack when I brought them to the woods. When I got stronger and beat her every time, she insisted on trading kisses for candy instead.
I throw the piece of green candy so hard against the wall it almost bounces all the way back to the bed.
My dorm room in the NEX frat house is just big enough for the queen-size bed, a large walnut dresser with a matching desk, and an armchair currently piled high with discarded clothes.
Our house girl, Riley, only comes into our rooms once a week to tidy up. I guess she realized frat boys were a bunch of pigs, and their rooms looked the same whether she came a day or a week apart. We didn’t notice, anyway.
Except Jace, maybe. His room is really, really neat. She only dares to go inside once a month, and when she’s really sure he’s not around.
I upend the crisp packet, pouring the crumbs into my mouth.
Fuck Haven.
Fuck her heart-shaped face and her pouty little lips. That one freckle on her cheek I used to try to rub off her skin until she’d slap me and call me a shit-turd. And then I’d correct her, because shit-turd was redundant, but words weren’t always easy back then, so I’d say redundun, and she’d laugh, and sometimes I’d laugh with her.
Not always, though. Sometimes, I’d slap her right back.
Seriously, fuck her.
I hadn’t meant to spit at her, or choke her.
I’d meant to do much worse.
But the shock and confusion on her face did something to me. Those sad, puppy dog eyes.
How the fuck did she expect this to go? She’d pitch up here out of the blue and we’d just pick up where we left off?
Does she even remember where we left off?
Because it doesn’t fucking seem that way. Maybe she thinks it’s all in the past. Time heals all wounds, that kind of bullshit.
She’s out of her goddamn mind.
I lace my fingers and flip my hands up, cracking several knuckles at once as I stretch my arms to the intricately molded ceilings.
Ezra’s right. The sooner she’s gone, the better for Agony Hollow College.
Better for me, too.
They want me to abuse my power?
Let’s see what’s behind door number one.
Oh, right.
Me, snapping Haven like a fucking twig.