Page 23 of Lessons in Cruelty

“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. His eyes are a darker green than mine, his hair in a carefully styled faux hawk—a polar opposite to my always-too-long mess.

Nah, bro, why the hell are you still here?

Ezra’s a fifth year, nearly eleven months older than me. He doesn’t even have a room in this frat house anymore, but he’s here for every meeting. Guess it’s the only time he’s ever held this much power, so he’ll stick around until someone challenges him. No one’s found the courage yet, I guess, and he’s happy as a Riversider in shit.

Fucking control freak.

“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 make it look like a suicide.” Everyone turns to Dahmer in his red hoodie.

That’s not his real name, but he looks like a serial killer, and we’re pretty sure he’s into guys. Also, what’s up with those wire-framed 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. “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. She’ll be gone by the end of the week, if she isn’t already.”

“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.”

“We do?” 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 most.

“Mess with her grades or something,” Myles says, twirls his mustache again, a villain pondering his next maniacal scheme. “These charity cases need top 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 took that TA position because it opens a bunch of doors. Well, when God closes a window—” the gavel swings toward Jace, then back to me “—time to open a fucking door.”

“And what, push her out?” I mutter.

“If that’s what it takes.” 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 already have two assignments to work on, and Ezra said the social committee needs help this week to set up the fucking Rain Dance party. Now I have to go to some bullshit sorority hookup and discuss, I dunno, how many solo cups and streamers we need to buy?