27. Harper
Chapter 27
Harper
My stomach turns itself inside out as I stare at the big red F slashed onto the top of my science paper.
I failed.
I’m not surprised, but some optimistic, idealistic, starry-eyed part of me thought everything would just…turn out okay. Even though I walked into class on Wednesday without having studied a single page of Marissa’s notes.
“There’s a make-up test next Friday after school,” Mr. Monroe says in a tone of voice that makes it sound like he couldn’t actually give a fuck if I pass or fail. He’s an old, wrinkly man who smells like an ashtray and has the yellow teeth and fingertips to go with his nicotine addiction. I bet he gets his kicks out of watching dumb asses like me fail his class every semester.
God, this is killing my buzz.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
But he’s already moving onto the kid behind me. I hear a murmured, “Congratulations, Greg. Another A.”
I slump into my arms, inhaling the scent of my deodorant mingling with the desk and the paper.
If I don’t pass science, they’ll hold me back another year, and I’m already behind after all the shit I went through with Mom. I mean, there were six months back when I was thirteen when we stayed in a trailer in the middle of nowhere. How the hell was I supposed to get to school?
Shoving into a sit, I force my eyes wide and take a look around the room. There are only a handful of gloomy faces, and one girl in the far back is crying silently into the sleeve of her blazer.
Marissa sits in the front of the class, but she happens to look back and catch my eye. Her grin fades when all I can muster up is a dreary smile in return. She shrugs, shakes her head. I roll my eyes and prop my cheek on my hand. She faces forward again.
Okay, enough wallowing. I need to take action.
I nod decisively and gather up my things, shoving them into my backpack. I’m going to go home, crack open this textbook, and read it cover-to-cover. I’ll use Marissa’s notes when I get stuck. Maybe even invite her over this weekend if I need more help.
But immediately my mind goes to the attic. It took me a while, but I eventually figured out where Jude had hidden the pool house cache. I kept telling myself the hunt was just a game me and him were playing, a silent version of hide and seek. I didn’t need booze at home, because Talia sold me enough at school to keep me buzzing the whole day. But then I found the boxes of alcohol in the attic, and I had to celebrate my victory.
Shit. I can’t study at home. I don’t dare. I wouldn’t be able to withstand the temptation.
Wait. The library . It’s perfect.
I rummage around in my backpack and grab out my water bottle. It’s a cute pink one with the words “you got this” in glitter. I glance around casually and take a quick sip, then another. A last gulp before I stash the bottle back in my backpack, and then I pop a strip of gum into my mouth.
It’s good for my teeth because it’s sugar-free.
I’m so excited about my plan of action, that I sneak out the bottle a moment later and take another gulp.
Jude must be bipolar or something. He doesn’t even make a fuss when I ask him to take me to the library. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the days he’s a psychotic asshole or the ones where he’s a tolerable stepbrother.
“What time should I pick you up?” he asks.
I spin around and have to grab onto the SUV’s mirror so I don’t fall on my ass. My sense of balance is non-existent these days. Maybe I’ve got an ear infection or something.
“Uhm…” I stare into the distance. I’m a lot more tired than I thought I’d be. And I think there was something wrong with the cafeteria’s chicken nuggets because my stomach is feeling all kinds of twisted up. I open the door and climb back inside. “You know what, I’ll go tomorrow.”
I’m sure I can still get some studying done this afternoon. I’ll go sit in the dining room. I’ll get tons done.
“You said you wanted to go to the library to study.” But Jude’s the one studying me.
I cover my smile with the back of my hand. “Whatever. I have the whole weekend.”
Jude’s eyes narrow. “Are you meeting someone here?”
I snort. “Yeah, Jude, my boyfriend and me make out in the mechanical engineering aisle like all the time.”
Jude says nothing to this. He reverses out of his parking bay and leaves. “You still carry that water bottle with you?” he asks.
My throat closes up. I force out a strangled, “What?”
“I’m thirsty.” He holds out his hand.
“It’s empty.”
“I heard it sloshing around in there.” He glances at me, then back at the road. “Come on, Harper. Don’t be selfish.”
I don’t know why I obey. It’s like my arm is receiving instructions directly from some other entity. Jude, I guess. I take out my bottle and unscrew the cap, but thank God I get my motor function back a second before he can take it from me.
Lifting the bottle, I glug down the last three sips of vodka inside and tip the bottle over. “See? Empty.”
Jude drops his hand, saying nothing. In fact, he goes on to say nothing for the rest of the trip home. When we stop at home, he doesn’t unlock the door straight away. I tug on the handle anyway and then lean back to give him a deadpan look. “Open,” I whine.
He sits for a moment, utterly frozen, and then turns in his seat. The serious expression on his face is like a bucket of icy water on my face. I sit up straight and push away from him, crowding against the nook between the door and the seat.
“Harper, you’ve got a problem.”
“What?” I laugh, but it’s more of a snort. “Oh my God, are you serious?” I tap the water bottle. “This proves nothing.”
“So you’re one hundred percent sober right now?”
“I mean…is anyone? Ever?” As soon as his eyes narrow, I hold up my hands in mock surrender. “Yeah, Jude. I’m sober.”
He cocks his head exactly like he did in the dream I had about him the other night. God, how many times have I seen him in my dreams? Twenty? Thirty? Most nights I don’t remember what I dream, but the ones where I wake up horny I know it was about him. My body starts switching on, and I squirm in my seat.
What the fuck, Harper? Quit it! If Jude breathes a word of some of the shit I’ve done the past few weeks, I’m dead meat. I don’t want to go back to the trailer. I like going to school. I like thinking I have even a glimmer of a future that involves college.
“Do you even realize you’re slurring?”
My cheeks catch fire. “No I’m not.”
He goes on like I haven’t spoken. “Or that my sister has better hand-eye coordination than you?” His lips quirk up in a smile that’s anything but jolly. “You’re a fucking train wreck, Harper.” He grabs my thigh and leans in close, triggering another flashback of my hot as fuck dream of him.
I bite my lip, forcing myself not to react, but I can’t seem to stop squirming in the seat. Probably because the friction of my skirt on the leather is doing all sorts of wicked things to my pussy.
He glances at my water bottle, and I flinch when his eyes lock back onto mine. “That was the last. Ever. If you don’t sober up immediately, you’ll regret the day you ever laid eyes on me.”
He sits back in his seat and pushes the button to unlock my door. I scramble out, yanking on my clothes to realign them when my blazer gets caught in the seatbelt. “Asshole!” I yell.
I know I have to rein it in, but I can’t.
He thinks he knows everything, but he’s so fucking wrong.
If he wants to act like a prick, if he thinks I’m just going to let him walk all over me, then he’s got another thing coming.
I should have been looking where I was going, not glaring at him over my shoulder. I trip and fall to my hands and knees, scraping both. The stab of pain is enough to bring tears to my eyes, but I blink them back with iron determination.
Pushing myself up, I dust off my hands and force myself to keep walking. Not looking back.
This is fucking war.