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It’s also not Carley’s fault my mom’s a skanky bitch who’d ruined my life. That’s not entirely true, my inner voice reminds me, it’s tone viciously cruel. You ruined your own life. In fact, you killed it.
Laurel shoots me a disgusted look as the two turn to lead me from the airport and judging by the way her gaze keeps darting from side to side, I have a sneaking suspicion she doesn’t want to be seen with me. It would probably shock her to know that the feeling is mutual.
“The cuntiness is strong with you today,” he reminds her on a drawl. “Reel it in or our new classmate will think we’re heathens.”
Do not strangle the rude ass blonde in the fancy car.
Unbidden, he launches into an in-depth play-by-play of his entire summer vacation. He even goes so far as to tell me how many girls he slept with, and I want to throw myself out of the moving SUV and take my chances with the pavement.
This place must be full of shiny turds.
That’s what you call bitchy?” She chuckles darkly and shakes her head, her hair bouncing around the thick white straps of her sundress. “Oh, my sweet, beautiful child, you’re in for some next level, stab-you-in-the-back-with-a-fencing-sabre-and-laugh-over-your-corpse shit.”
“You met the Laurel Vanderpick of the House Vanderpick, first of her name, the unfeeling, spreader of gossip and other nasty bullshit?” Snapping the blinds back in place, she spins toward me so fast, Dorito tries to leap from her lap, but she pulls him close to her chest. “Laurel is, and excuse my basic bitch lingo, the worst.”
“I can’t just walk by when I see some entitled dick picking on someone just because they’re poor,” I snap back. “You’re disgusting.” He tilts his head, and honestly, he looks a little crazy. A little wild. A little unstable.
Entitled pieces of shit like this guy get away with everything, and it’s not fair. He deserves punishment. He deserves humiliation. He deserves pain.
I know who the blond guy is without anyone needing to tell me. The third “god” that Alondra mentioned. Satan himself. Saint-Fucking-Angelle.
“Don’t you people have anything better to do than bother me? Kill some dalmatians? Suck the life out of children? Get landed on by a house?”
Saint Angelle. In my fucking gym class. “I’m being punished,” I murmur under my breath, tucking a strand of hair back into my slowly unraveling braid. “God is punishing me.”
He’s touching me like he owns me. “You’ll regret staying,” he promises in a murmur. “I swear to God you will.”
“Yeah, I’m probably staying on campus too,” Henry says with a nod. “Not that I’m getting a lot of invites lately to the Douche Squad’s orgies.” While I’m almost certain he’s joking, I can’t help but blurt out, “Orgies? Really?” He shakes his head and laughs. “No—I mean, none that I can confirm, anyway. There’s always rumors, and those guys screw enough that I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve really happened.” “Well they can fuck each other for all I care,” I spit out. “So long as it keeps them busy.”
“Who’d top, do you think?” she asks with a giggle. “Saint, for sure,” he replies. “That dude’s ego wouldn’t stand for it being any other way.”
I later found out that the weekend after he made that promise, he’d declared me “Open Season” at a party at Liam’s beach house. Open-fucking-season, like I was an animal, where anyone could go after me without repercussions because their lord and master had dubbed it so.
“As if I give a shit what you or any of these other losers want.” She shoves at my shoulder. “You’re nothing but a trailer park slut.” I can’t stop myself. I’m too pissed off, and I shove her back. “Better a trailer park slut than an egomaniac who only takes it in the back door.”
Look on the bright side! Everyone will probably stop treating you like shit if they think Saint’s hitting it.” “Thanks for giving me a reason to vomit.”
“Maybe she thinks if she believes hard enough, you’ll disappear,” Gabe snickers. “Shut the fuck up,” Saint snarls. He sounds angry, and I get a sick satisfaction from that fact. He’s suddenly right beside me, his long strides easily keeping up with my much shorter ones. I feel his eyes burning down on me, but I act as though he doesn’t exist, because to me, he doesn’t. Not anymore.
“Watch your ass, Ellis. If Laurel kills you, I’ll lose my favorite toy. That’ll really piss me off.”
The greedy televangelist’s hard-partying, sex-addict kid just dropped the Jesus card. It takes all my strength not to snort out loud.
He’s right, I realize, but I know he hasn’t ever been held accountable either. He, Jon Eric, and Finnegan all live in a world I just don’t understand, where they can do horrible things to people and no one bats an eye, and everyone continues to worship them.
“Hey Mallory? Why’s Saint looking at you like that?”
“I can’t tell if he wants to kill you or fuck you in front of everyone here,” Loni murmurs.
I need to get out of here. I need to go, before he starts digging. Saint is always looking for ammunition to use against me, and James is a nuclear bomb.
One of his hands digs into my hair and he yanks my head back, cutting off my blood-curdling scream with a brutal kiss that steals the last of my sanity.
I almost feel sorry for Saint. Of course, he grew up to be a pompous shithead. The asshole apple doesn’t fall far from the asshole tree.
“I don’t want a girl who’s going to kiss my ass as often as she sucks my dick. I want a girl who’ll call me on my bullshit—and then suck my dick.” I called him an asshole, and then proceeded to suck his dick.
“Guess what, Laurel? I’m just as much a nobody today as I was the first day I arrived at this school. You’re the somebody he got bored with and dumped.”
Don’t worry, ladies. That asshole’s going to be unattached soon enough.
“What’s up, buttercup?” she asks with a smile. “Zombies.” I raise one arm and sweep my hand around the room. “Zombies everywhere.” She takes a bite of her fruit and yogurt parfait and shakes her head. “No, no, no. They’re not zombies. They’re acting respectful of the high god’s concubine.” A chuckle bursts from my chest at her apt description. “I’m not a concubine.”
She opens her mouth and closes it several times before she manages to growl, “You truly are a clueless slut.” I shrug because I have no fucks to give about her opinion of me. “I learned from the best, baby girl.”
Shit happens. It’s not like you murdered the guy.” My lips part in shock. It’s not like I didn’t murder him either. “How are you so cavalier about this?” He pulls on a pair of jeans, then digs out a black t-shirt before turning back to face me with it clutched in his hand. “It is what it is. It happened. It’s done. It’s not my problem and doesn’t make you less fuckable.” Oh, hello again Mr. Hyde, I thought I screwed you away…
She always assumed the baby was James’, but it wasn’t. No, the baby that I lost, the baby that I dreaded even having, was Dylan’s.
