BAD WICKED TWISTED: A Briarcrest Academy Box Set (55 page)

“I gave you my heart, and you destroyed it,” she whispered, the unsteadiness of her voice my undoing, sending me right over the edge of that precarious cliff I’d been hanging on to by the skin of my teeth.

The pencil I’d been clutching broke and small pieces flew across my desk and into the empty space between us. I wanted to pummel my desk until my fists bled. I wanted to punch a hole through the wall, the floor,
something
.

Everything was my fault. Just mine.

Dovey had been collateral damage, the kind that breaks you the most. And I
was
sorry for it, but sometimes you do what hurts because
it’s for the best
. But she was my kryptonite, leaving me no option but to make sure she stayed away from me.

I didn’t think about my cruel words; I just said them. “You were a curiosity, Dovey. You’re not from here, and I wanted a taste, that’s all. I moved on when it got boring. Get over it.”

“A taste?” she said, face pale.

I didn’t take my eyes off her. This might be the last time I ever looked at her again.

I wanted to shore up her image. Get my fill.

I nodded and dug the knife in deeper. It was the only way. But I couldn’t look at her when I said it, so I stared at the floor, making my voice harsh. “I slummed with you.”

She made a whimpering noise, and fuck me, my heart jerked in my chest at the pain I imagined I heard in that sound. I gripped the edge of my seat, forcing myself to stay strong, to not make eye contact.
Don’t give in
, I yelled at myself.

“I need to go,” she said abruptly and got up from her desk. She gathered her Lit book and shoved it in her backpack.

Wait
.

“Dovey?” I said faintly as I gazed back at her, the sound of her name on my lips giving me a jolt. I hadn’t said it in over a year, but in my mind, I’d whispered it a thousand times.

Emma leaned down and scooped up Dovey’s pencil that had rolled under her desk when she stood. She flashed a sugary smile. “Don’t forget this on your way out.”

Without taking it, Dovey pivoted and walked out the door, her back as straight as the pencil I’d broken.

Weinstein watched her go, but said nothing. Perhaps she’d seen her face. Perhaps she’d heard what I announced.

I turned to Emma, and she dropped her smirk. “If I hear one word about this pass your lips at BA, you and I will be over as friends. No trash talking about her. Got it?”

She twisted her mouth. “Whatever you say, Hollywood. Not sure why you even care though. She’s nothing.”

I sat back in my desk, my chest wanting to cave in, hating myself for hurting her all over again.

It’s not surprising really; after all, it’s what I do best, destroying those who love me.

An image of my little sister, Cara, came to mind, quickly followed by a vision of my mother.

I’d killed them. That seemed to come easy to me too.

“
One kiss and I was a goner.
”

–
Dovey

ONCE I CLEARED the doorway, my walk accelerated into a run. A short skirt and high heels made it difficult, but I managed, passing a couple of wandering students in the hall. They gawked. Soon, I’d be the talk of the school, especially if Emma had anything to do with it.

Finally, I reached one of the side exits and ran out the door and onto the soggy lawn. My shoes dug into the mud. Great. This day just kept getting worse. At least the rain had stopped, so I found a bench, wiped it off with my hands, and plopped down.

I fiddled with the necklace that rested under my shirt, trying to ease the after-effects of his words. He’d merely told me what I already knew, that I’d been a dalliance to him, something he’d discarded as soon as it got old. Still, the words stung. “I won’t cry,” I said aloud. Crying was pointless. Plus, I blamed myself for even opening my mouth and antagonizing him. It made me look foolish and like I still cared.

And I didn’t.

I straightened my skirt. Oh.

“He called me a bad dresser. Well, to be honest, he called me a blind slut,” I muttered to the blue bird perched on the back of the bench. “Is it sad that I consider it progress that he even spoke? I don’t sleep around, just so you know, and I dress for myself, no one else.” So not true.

The bird flew away, and I focused on Sarah, remembering Heather-Lynn’s earlier text. I pulled out my phone and checked to see if she’d sent any more texts. Only one.

It read,
Canceled her dance classes. Gave her a sleeping pill.

I immediately called, and she answered on the first ring as if she’d been waiting.

“What happened?” were the first words out of my mouth.

She sighed heavily. “After you left, two of Alexander Barinsky’s men came by looking to collect twenty thousand dollars they said Sarah borrowed last fall. They pushed us around, but we’re mostly fine.”

Shock washed over me. Alexander Barinsky was the nastiest, meanest, most feared man in Ratcliffe. When I was around eight years old, I’d watched him stab a crackhead in the alley outside his grocery store, just one of the many businesses he owned. I don’t know why he’d gutted him. Maybe the druggie had been loitering and causing trouble. Maybe he owed Alexander money. I’d only seen it because mama was drunk and had sent me down to grab some chips and soda. But, he was the kind of man who didn’t care if you witnessed his crimes. He knew you weren’t going to call the police. Because if you did, you’d die next.

I jumped to my feet, picturing beefy, gangster type men barging their way into our shabby house. My voice was incredulous. “That’s impossible. She’d never go to the mob for money. It has to be a lie. Or a mix-up.”

Silence on the other end.

I clutched the phone. “Heather-Lynn, do you know something I don’t?”

“No, of course not, but she
is
sick. What if she forgot how bad these men are? What if she’s spending money we don’t know about.” I heard paper rustling in the background. “I’m going through her check book right now. Maybe I can tell what’s going on.”

I licked dry lips, my head spinning, trying to wrap around the idea of why we’d even need twenty thousand dollars.

“Oh, and Dovey?”

“Yeah?”

“When Sarah said she didn’t have the money, they brought your name up. They said they’d be back.”

My stomach dropped. This…this was insane.

“I’m coming home,” I announced as I headed back to the doors. I couldn’t leave two defenseless older ladies home alone with madmen coming back. Not sure what I could do, but I could try.

“You can’t,” she said, sounding a little exasperated. “You’ve left school twice last week for her doctor appointments. You can’t miss anymore ballet practice. Remember your audition? She’d want you to practice. And she’s fine now. She’s sleeping.”

I paused. The audition was my only shot at a local company, and I couldn’t let it slip away. I sighed, feeling conflicted, but knowing I needed to stay. “Okay. I’ll see you as soon as class is over.” I nibbled on my lip. “And keep the main door dead-bolted. Even when Max comes by with the mail. Don’t let anyone in.”

But they’d get in if they wanted. We both knew it.

After we’d talked a bit more, I hung up the phone, fighting down panic. I wanted to sit and mull it all out, but BA beckoned. It was nearly time for second period. I needed to get to Calculus.

“You mind if I light up?” a male voice said from behind me, making me jump.

I recognized the voice and forced a smile as I turned to face him. Spider stood there, his lean build encased in skinny jeans paired with a black leather jacket. He’d completed the look with a stud in his ear and a plethora of silver chains around his neck. He may have looked like a thug, but he was a softie on the inside, a very mercurial softie. His whole vibe said he was artsy and slightly unbalanced, kinda like what I imagined a hot-headed rocker type would be.

I immediately wanted to tell him about Sarah and the phone call from Heather-Lynn, but yanked myself back. No reason to drag him under if I didn’t even know if it was true or not. And if it was true, I wasn’t sure I’d tell him either. Yeah, he was my bestie, but there’s a limit to what I’m willing to admit about my neighborhood and how I’m connected it to. And a small part of me was afraid he’d reject me if he knew the truth about my parents.

I pushed the Sarah thing from my mind and tried to think positive.

Maybe it was all a horrible misunderstanding.

“Fire it up,” I said to him. Spider did what Spider wanted anyway. “You make it a habit of sneaking up on girls?”

He grinned as he lit his cig. “Only when I see them run out of class for no apparent reason.” He pursed his lips as he exhaled delicate smoke rings that danced through the air.

“How’d you make those?” I quizzed as he offered me one. I shook my head.

“Learned it in rehab,” he said.

My eyes shot to his. “Rehab? Hello, you never told me. When was this?”

“Old news. Happened when I was twelve, the same year I got my tattoo.” He ghosted his hands over the hand-sized black widow on his neck. Hence the nickname. “And maybe I’m opening up more.”

“Drugs or alcohol?” I asked as he leaned his shoulder back against the brick of the building, watching his smoke trails drift up into the overcast sky.

He lolled his head toward me and made a kissy face at me. Yeah, he’d clammed up. Same old, same old.

I smirked. “I’d like to peek inside your head for one day. See what kind of secrets you got going on in there.”

He scoffed. “Nothing but a bunch of naked girls, trust me.”

I laughed.

“It’s not like you to skip class,” he said, arching a brow. “And Lit is your favorite, right?”

I nodded and fiddled with my jacket, not ready to explain. He’d always gotten weird when I talked about Cuba.

I focused on Spider. “How’d you get out of class?”

“Saw you out in the quad from the science lab. Told Mr. Brenner I had a headache so I could check on you. You okay? You know I’ll kick anyone’s arse you want.”

I shook my head. “It’s nothing.”

He grinned. “I saw you talking to yourself. Don’t tell me it’s nothing. You only do that when you’re pissed.”

I picked at my nails.

He tilted my chin up, his hands gentle. “It was Cuba, wasn’t it?”

I shot him a glance, and he seemed good, so I went with it. “I baited him in class. He, I don’t know, snapped at me. I just wanted a reaction from him, you know? It’s been a year…” I stopped talking, noticing his red eyes and scrunched up face. “Too much to drink last night?”

He nodded. “Hung out at Gilligan’s with some of the band guys. Someone bought us drinks, and next thing I know, I was up there singing karaoke and then shagging some chick in the loo.”

I shook my head and grinned. “Don’t want to know who you did the dirty with.”

“Oh, it was dirty.”

I groaned. “Unbelievable. Girls never see you coming.”

“It’s ‘cause I’m a musician and I’m British. I’m like Prince Harry to them. Or David Beckham.”

“You wish. And they aren’t musicians, goof,” I noted.

He shrugged. “Meh. We favor. What difference does it make?”

I poked him in the arm. “Your hair is white.” This month.

He smirked. “Then I’m a freakishly young Davie Bowie.”

I giggled. “I like Billy Idol better.”

“Shall I sing
White Wedding
?”

I nodded, and he held up a finger, hummed to get the correct pitch, and then sang the first few lines. I grinned until
wait a minute
. “Hold that song. I seem to remember you drunk dialing me last night.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, his lips twitching.

“You did!”

“Don’t talk so loud,” he said, closing his eyes and rubbing his temple. “I’ve taken four Aleve, and I’m still feeling a bit crap.”

“At three in the morning, no less.”

“Speak softly, please,” he murmured.

“You’ve got to stop calling and saying crazy things—and what was up with all the breathing?” My eyes flared. “Oh, heck no. Please don’t tell me you called while you were getting busy? With some skank, no less—”

His brown eyes popped open. “What did I say? Do you remember?”