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That wasn’t quite right, though. The only time I’d dealt directly with Their Majesties was Monday. Since then, they’ve let their minions terrorize me on their behalf.
They aren’t the kind of people who get their hands dirty.
“Cupcake.” His fingers tap gently against the window. “We’ve done nothing to you. Yet.”
“Why don’t you find another toy to play with?”
Jason leans in. “Because this one is still shiny, and not broken. I’d very much like to see what you look like when all your pieces fall apart.”
Enough of this. I close the window, start the car, and reverse out of the lot, paying them no more attention. I have two days to myself before returning to the hell they’ve designed for me. Freedom can’t start soon enough.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I don’t rest. Not for a moment the entire weekend.
My mother drills me about why I chose to come back, missing any homecoming parties. I know better than to let her know about the mess at school; parents can never fix that sort of thing. They could kick up a fuss with the school, sure, which might result in Their Majesties getting a slap on the wrist, at worst—and then, they’d know I snitched and push me harder.
My interaction with Jason and the others Friday night keeps me awake. I don’t like the person I was that evening. I’ve never shown those ugly colors, not even to Brooke. I’m not cruel by nature, yet I tried to be. They dragged me down to their level.
Rowan’s eyes feature in my waking nightmares, because for a fraction of a second, I’m fairly certain I saw some hurt. His parents are dead and I made fun of them. Indirectly, unknowingly, but it was still an asshole move. All he did was chuck a smoothie at me. I’d wager my words cut deeper than his actions.
Then I remember being tripped, pushed, insulted, spat on, and I shake the guilt away.
We’ve done nothing to you. Yet.
I take a shift at the restaurant Saturday. Septembers are always busy in the city, so Dad doesn’t hesitate when I ask if he could use an extra set of hands. I’m grateful for the distraction, not to mention the money I earn that night. It’s not much, but it’ll pay for my backpack and the stuff I lost.
Yet. Yet. Yet.
Jason’s promise turns around my mind on repeat, as dread coils inside me, tightening as the hours draw me closer to Monday.
Naturally, Hulk works just fine that morning. Part of me wishes I could break down and wait on the side of the road for a tow for…a few months? Just until graduation. But I make it on time.
I bought a new pair of headphones along with my replacement backpack. They’re noise cancelling. The expense might have seemed superfluous, but this morning, they’re my lifeline. I listen to a book, blocking out any whispers or snickering that might be aimed at me.
I head to my locker first—someone cleaned it properly over the weekend. Opening it, I sigh. I should have guessed. I can’t tell whether it’s been filled with whipped cream or shaving cream. Either way, it’s unusable. I don’t have time to head to the administrative building if I want to make it to class, so I just snap a picture, load it to SnapApp, tagging the school before heading down the corridor toward my Calculus class. Some random kid bumps into me—maybe purposely, maybe not. Since I’m not in the mood to take more crap, I shoot him the finger. One week of it was more than enough. Now, if they want to fuck with me, I’ll fuck them right back.
That sounds dirtier than intended.
The next couple of hours are tolerable. Calculus sucks by nature, but my fellow students leave me alone; I suppose they deem the class torture enough for anyone. I sit next to Sophia in Italian. We didn’t talk much over the weekend. Before class starts, she asks me how my shift went.
“Really well. I got good tips.” The universe must have decided that I’d suffered enough to deserve some boon, because I served a bunch of drunk dudes who tipped me thirty percent on their twenty-five head table. “Did you have a good time here?”
Sophia’s parents take a vacation every year around this time—to celebrate their kids going back to boarding school, I’m guessing—so she had to stay. Any other week, I would have asked if she wanted to come back to mine, but I really needed the break. My work shift was a good excuse for not inviting her.
“Amazing.” To my surprise, she’s beaming. “Yuki invited me to Glass, Sunday afternoon. You wouldn’tbelievehow gorgeous the house is. And they have butlers! And a spa! We did mani-pedis.” She wiggles her fingers at me.
My eyebrows are up to my hairline by this point. There’s only one Yuki I know who’s a legacy, but I have to clarify. “Yuki Moore?”
Sophia’s sister might be the aspiring queen bee of Cross, but Yuki Moore, the gorgeous, smooth-skinned, raven-haired, ink-eyed model-worthy beauty rules it without even trying. Yuki lets Brooke have her fun—she doesn’t seem to have an interest in leading the mean girl squad—but what she says goes. Brooke immediately bows to every one of Yuki’s words.
Andsheinvited Sophia? It just didn’t make any sense to me.
“She’s pretty nice, actually. She wants to be a lawyer, like her mom, so she’s taking so many AP classes, she doesn’t really bother with the school drama, you know.”
I didn’t know anything about Yuki, other than the fact that she was super-mega rich and extremely gorgeous.
And, all right, Imighthave noticed the fact that she dated Jason for a bit. But only because Jason doesn’t date. Oh, I’ve seen him make out with one girl or another at some weekend parties, but he doesn’t seem to give them the time of day afterwards. Yuki, he speaks to, hangs out with.
