Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
I wander through my classes on what might be my last day in a daze. It’s like I can feel the executioner’s blade hanging over my head, rendering everything else no more than trivial bullshit.
Ash hasn’t made his move yet, but I know it’ll have to be today or tomorrow.
There’s a closing assembly tomorrow for winter break to give out the usual awards and accolades.
Parents are invited, so I’m sure I’m going to come face-to-face with Joseph Sr. and his wrath.
I think it’ll happen then. Ash will tell his dad right before the awards, and I’ll be dragged out of the building and thrown off the school grounds.
I’ll be forced to go home to Mounts Bay and back to the Jackal.
I need a new plan.
I’m scowling so much that students are darting away from me as I walk through the school halls.
Some of the guys in the upper grades flinch as I walk past, and that cheers me up a little.
Punch a guy in the throat for hitting on you and they’ll all learn to fall into line.
When classes end, I duck into the bathroom on the lower floors to wash my hands before I have an early dinner.
I’m planning on savoring the last of the best food I’ll probably ever have. It’s a depressing thought.
I open the bathroom door and can hear heavy breathing.
A grunt. Scuffing of shoes. A slap of a hand against bare skin.
I know those sounds. Growing up in the public school system in a shitty area means I've gone into more than one bathroom to find students fucking. I think the majority of my education of what happens between two people came from these sorts of encounters, which is probably why I’ve avoided relationships so far.
I roll my eyes and I'm about to leave when I hear a boy curse.
“Fuck you, hold still.”
That doesn't sound… consensual. Without hesitation, I creep forward, just a quick peek to make sure the girl is okay, and my eyes connect with Avery Beaumont’s.
She's fucking terrified.
Rory has her bent over the sink awkwardly, one hand over her mouth and his body pinning her arms behind her back while he fumbles with his pants.
Her panties are torn and on the floor. She's bleeding from her head, her nose looks swollen, her phone is in pieces on the floor, and that fucking scumbag Rory is about to rape her.
I don't even take a second to think.
I lurch forward and take Rory by surprise.
As my shoulder connects with his chest, his breath is knocked out of him and he falls backward against the cold tiles.
Avery scrambles away from him and behind me.
I expect her to run away and leave me to deal with this horny rapist whose dick is just bobbing in the breeze, but she doesn't. She looks at me like she's looking at a ghost, then she croaks, “Help.”
Rory recovers and staggers at us both. He's easily twice my size and a football player, so he’s naturally stacked with muscle, someone you don’t want to fight without a plan.
He may have the advantage, but I was raised with nothing and I fought my way to where I am.
I duck and kick his knee, ignoring the shooting pain from the pins holding my leg together, and then I slam my own knee into his stomach until he drops.
I want to kick him right in the dick, I want him to piss blood for a week, but he’s hunching, so I can’t get to it.
He manages to get a fistful of my hair on his way down and flings my head around until I smash my face into the mirror, but then Avery gives him a quick jab to his ribs and he goes down groaning.
She swears and shakes out her hand, shifting her weight like it will help.
She’s obviously never had to punch someone before, and she’d tucked her thumb in.
Silly girl. I’m feeling a little dazed as I think to myself, I should really teach that chick to punch properly.
I pick up one of my textbooks, the history tome that's a hardcover and weighs more than a brick, and then I use every ounce of strength I have to slam it into his face.
He's knocked clean out.
I'm heaving like I've run a marathon, and Avery isn't much better.
Her shirt is ripped open and she looks down, clutching at the halves to hold them together.
She's clearly in shock, and I know I must be as well.
My brain feels like the ball in a pinball machine, like it's been shot around my skull a few dozen times.
I can't think of anything to say or what to do now.
“He fractured his ribs during the football game last week. It was a lucky guess that they were still sore,” she says, looking down at him. He's breathing, but I’m not sure I'm happy about it.
“Fucking lucky. Piece of shit.”
She hums in agreement and then steps forward to stomp on Rory's phone that's landed on the floor. I hiss at her, worried he’ll come to with all the noise, but she turns a baleful look on me.
“He has photos of me.”
Then we stop to look at each other.
The queen and the pauper.
There's blood dripping down her nose, her eyebrow is cut open, and I can see the fleshy muscle that lies underneath. It’ll scar. I wonder for a minute if it will diminish her incredibly good looks, and then I remember that she can afford a plastic surgeon to fix it.
“Why did you help me?” she says abruptly, and I have to wipe my own bleeding nose on my sleeve.
“He's a dick and a rapist, so why wouldn't I?”
“Oh, I don't know, maybe because I've spent the whole year torturing you, turning everyone against you, helping my brother and his friends turn your whole life to shit? Give me a good reason why.”
This girl is unbelievable. I just saved her, and she's standing there, demanding answers from me!
“The appropriate thing to say is ‘thank you’,” I hiss at her instead.
I turn to walk away, and she grabs me. Her hand is shaking so badly I can feel the tremble up my arm.
We stare at each other in silence for a minute.
I can't tell what she's thinking; she's as unreadable as ever, even with the shakes.
Rory starts to groan on the floor and Avery flinches, then she stomps on his phone one last time and bends over to grab the chip out of it.
“I have a guy that can get the photos out. I don't need anyone getting their hands on them. I have enough problems in my life as it is,” she explains as she tucks it into her bra.
She tugs me out of the room by my elbow, and we set a brisk pace back to the dorms. I wince as my leg begins to protest the speed we’re going, but I don’t slow down. When we get back, she stands and waits for me to unlock the door to my room and follows me in.
I have never been ashamed of how little I have until suddenly there's this girl, who has the whole world at her feet, looking around curiously. That confirms that she wasn’t personally involved with the destruction of my room, but I always guessed she had minions to do that shit for her.
Her room is a palace in comparison.
My cheeks flush, and I shake myself. What does it matter what she thinks? One and a half more years until I am free from all this shit. Avery turns, and I know the look on her face. It’s the exact one she always uses when she cleans up after Ash’s exploits.
“I don’t know what agreement you and Harley came to, but I will pay you to keep this quiet,” she starts, and I snort at her. She raises a perfect eyebrow at me. “I know you need the money. Name a price, and I’ll pay it.”
“Fuck your money. Just because I have nothing doesn't mean I need to be paid for being a decent fucking person. That's what's wrong with you lot. You're all so busy stabbing each other in the back that you've forgotten how to just be human.”
I start to rummage around under my bed until I find my first-aid kit.
After the year I've had so far, it's in dire need of a top-up, but I crack two of the instant ice packs and wait until they're cold.
Avery takes one gingerly, like she's never seen one, and then copies my movements to press it against her head. I’m starting to worry she has a concussion.
“Well, what do you want, then? Everyone wants something. Name your price.”
“I don't want anything! You being nice to me just because I stopped some douche-bag from assaulting you means nothing to me!”
She looks at me like I've grown another head.
I sigh and slump back onto my bed, glancing down at myself to take stock of the damage.
My stockings have holes in them now, and I wince because they're my last pair. I'll have to get through the rest of the week with them and just deal with the taunts from the other students… if I’m still here, that is. There’s also blood on my white shirt, but I think I can get that out.
I have a decent bit of practice with blood removal.
My arms and legs are starting to ache; I can feel the pins holding my leg together and the bone throbs around them. I realize how regularly I’m having to fight people and put my body on the line here. So much for this school being a better place.
Avery sighs and turns to the door to let herself out, but she hovers for a minute in the doorway. Her eyes are dry, but her mouth is turned down in a miserable frown.
“If you're willing to do that for your enemy, then what you do for your friends must be really special.”
It's… a genuinely nice thing to say, and my eyes well up despite myself. I’m struck again by how much I wish I had what she has. I wish I had people who love me and watch out for me. I wish I had real friends. I wish my life wasn’t empty.
“I wouldn't know, I've never really had any.”
She gives a sharp nod and closes the door tightly after herself. I get up and lock it, then I crawl under my covers and try to ignore the pain I’m in.
When I open the door the next morning, there’s a brand-new uniform hanging from the handle, stockings and all.
It fits me perfectly.
I'm not so naive to think that the universe will suddenly stop shitting on me just because of my good deed.
I make it to that damned chapel for the full school presentation of awards, and I find that seating is assigned.
I'm between Avery and Harley, and that’s when I decided that karma can’t be a real thing because how do I deserve that torture?
Avery has probably recovered well enough from the assault and will have something to say about my uniform.
Will Harley tease me for taking it? Or will he just continue to ignore me for dragging him into my twisted, bullshit world?
I’m still walking with a limp after using my bad leg to kick Rory.
Ugh. Rich dicks.
I take my seat, and Avery isn't there. I should feel relieved, but my stomach drops like a stone. Is she okay? What if she did have a concussion? Fuck, I should have walked her to the nurse.
After a minute of stewing by myself, Harley takes his seat and looks at my bandage with calculating eyes.
“Who the fuck beat you up this time?” he says, frustrated and angry, which throws me.
He must have not heard from Avery yet. I can't tell him, not with this many students around us. Even if we were alone, I don’t think I could tell him.
Is there a girl code about this kind of thing?
I’m the worst at girl code, I don’t have enough experience around girls who aren’t trying to kill me.
Does it still apply if the girl loathes your very existence?
Fuck.
I don't know.
“Doesn't matter. I'll survive,” I reply.
His eyebrows tug into a little frown, but then the lights are dimming, and the stage is lighting up.
I think that’ll be the end of it, but he slumps down in his chair until he can whisper in my ear.
“It does fucking matter. I’ve made it clear no one’s allowed to touch you, and I’m yours now, aren’t I? ”
He says it sarcastically, and I flush. There it is; the resentment for what I did to protect him.
I should feel angry at him for blaming me, but mostly I just feel guilty and miserable.
Okay, I’m a little angry that he didn’t care about being ‘mine’ when I confronted him about Ash getting me thrown out of school.
Fuck, I need some time to clear my head.
I need a plan for what the hell I’m going to do now that my exit strategy is burning to the ground.
I swallow and whisper back, “That just means no one outside these walls can touch you. You don’t owe me anything.”
He scoffs at me. “Thank God, because I sure as hell can’t afford the diamonds your favors cost.”
His leg is pressed against mine, so I feel it when his phone buzzes. He ignores it until it stops. Then it buzzes again. And again. And again.
He curses under his breath and discreetly slides the phone out of his pocket.
I look away because I have no interest in snooping.
Okay, I do, but I’m also afraid it’ll be a girl texting him and I don’t need any more pain from this guy right now.
He nudges me gently and turns the screen so I can read it.
Courtyard after the assembly. Bring the Mounty.
It’s from Ash.
I suck in a breath. This is it; he’s going to make his move and get me kicked out. He’s probably already done it, but Mr. Trevelen wouldn’t pause an assembly just to kick me out. I’m going to walk out there and face the humiliation of my expulsion.
I screw my eyes shut and try to fight the panic that’s squeezing my chest so hard that I think my heart might explode.
I start to count in French, and I miss every word Mr. Trevelen says in his speech.
I clap robotically when everyone around me does, and then when Harley stands, he looks down at me with cold eyes.
I have no choice but to follow him out to face Ash.