Selection? What the fuck is he talking about?
Dots swirl around me, the fog encroaching my vision from the strength of his hold, cutting off my questioning thoughts. He squeezes a tad tighter and my eyesight whites out. I feel the pressure on my lungs fighting to gain access to air. I’m about to pass out, but then he releases his grip and my body hits the floor with a hard thwack.
My lungs seek out air, ignoring the chemical smell to it. They expand and contract until I’m no longer gasping. My vision starts to clear in time for me to see the last of his exit and hear the deafening slam of the closet door…boom!
Raising my hand, I begin to massage my throat while trying to get my breathing back to normal. This damn town is full of a different type of crazy. Who chokes someone in a high school janitor’s closet? Not to mention not one person, staff or student alike, did anything.
Fucking sheep. This school is definitely not producing the next generation of leaders, instead it’s more like sociopaths.
I take another minute before slowly getting to my feet. It will take more than condoms in my locker, slut shaming, and Rowan, the bitch boy of Calloway Academy, choking me to get me to quit this town.
My siblings love it here and that alone is enough to endure the bullshit these entitled fucks dish out. Once I’m sure I’ve regained my composure, I grip the closet door, rip it open, and step out into the hallway more determined than ever to make this dumbass town work.
They are going to have to try harder if they want to snuff out my flame.
LIAM
“What’s this I hear about you manhandling the new girl? I thought we agreed to hold off for now?” I ask Rowan while we run. We’re on lap four of our warm-up for football.
It was all over the school, answering the question of where he was during lunch. The idiot snatched Emma out of the lunchroom and disappeared into parts unknown.
She must have put up a fight because our star wide receiver has a nicely developing shiner under his right eye. Coach is going to kill him.
We have our season opener this weekend, and we always scrimmage against our division rivals. It’s for charity, but more so for bragging rights. Rowan having a banged up eye isn’t going to bode well for us in practice today. Hell, maybe for the rest of the week.
I go to say this to him but his indignant tone cuts me off. His once placid face distorts, lips upturning, and brows furrowing to create creased lines on his forehead. “That girl is trash and needs to be reminded of that at every turn. If she doesn’t fall in line and learn her place, she’ll pay.” Sucking in a lung full of air, he continues his rant, “She is on the list. When we meet later we need to make a plan to get her out of town. We need to figure out how she and her family were even allowed to move into this town, then make their lives a living hell until they leave. Mark my words if we don’t, she’s going to be nothing but trouble.”
I know he doesn’t like Emma, but she hasn’t been here long enough for him to form this type of opinion. It doesn’t help that she has taken him and Sam on without fear, like the rest of the sheep do.
I expect August to say something to his menacing words. He’s made his interest known and I can see his obsession starting to build, but it’s Karl who speaks up, and what he says shocks me even more. Making me wonder if Emma has gotten to him also.
“How about you stop making unilateral decisions for us, Rowan? Especially, right before Coach is about to kick our asses because you went and got yours kicked right before the big scrimmage. Sound good?”
Karl’s right. Rowan was stupid for getting hurt before the game and his penchant for trying to make decisions on behalf of us all has been growing old over the last few months.
Rowan thrives on control. He needs it and when that control begins to slip he’s reminded of his past, which only makes him pull tighter at the reins, ensuring his grip doesn’t slip.
I raise my eyes to Karl’s, giving a quick shake of my head, signaling for him to cut Rowan some slack. Then, I focus back on Rowan and try to reason with him.
“Rowan, man, take it easy, we’ll discuss it later. Let’s figure out what’s going on with the Senator first, then we can do some digging into who Emma is, and if she’s bad news we’ll deal with her.”
Flitting my head in his direction as we jog back to Coach, I hope to see that my words have pacified him. But the rigidity in his posture and thinning of his lips, as his mouth draws taut, let me know this argument is far from over
* * *
The rest of practice was grueling, just like I suspected. Coach showed no mercy. He reamed Rowan out, which also meant he reamed us out. In his words, “we can only survive and thrive as a team.”
We had to run the bleachers until we understood doing stupid things that could result in hurting ourselves was not acceptable.
I’d punch Rowan for being stupid, but that would mean even more running. I still don’t think I can feel my legs, even after the cold water immersion therapy and my time with the trainer. My injuries are flaring again.
I grunt out in pain and try to stretch out my arm. I’m too young to feel this old and it’s all their fault. Every time my body fights against me my mind goes back to that place and I’m forced to relive it all. Before those thoughts can consume me I hear August’s approach.
The guys always know to make sure not to catch me off guard. It doesn’t bode well for those who do.
“Hey man, we’re heading to the diner to grab some dinner and try and talk some sense into Rowan. Grab your shit and let’s go. We’re going to ride over in Rubi,” he finishes, before turning around to leave.
By the time I grab my bag and head outside, everyone is already out front and waiting in Karl’s matte black Jeep Wrangler Rubicon, with burnt orange leather interior.
I swear every single time I see his SUV I want to add to my collection. It’s an off-roader’s dream. Under the hood sits a 6.4-liter V8 engine that produces a horsepower of four hundred seventy. Meaning that baby can go from zero to sixty in four-point-five seconds flat. If his car was a woman I’d fuck her.
I chuckle at myself as I open the door to the backseat and climb in.
“Well, I see the mood in the car is no better than it was at practice,” I say, once I see that Rowan has the same sour look on his face. All scowly like he expected to eat an orange but it turned out to be a bitter grapefruit.
“You assholes don’t seem to get why this is a problem,” he begins to say then pauses, trying to allow the lingering silence to soak up his point. Then, he continues, “She hasn’t been in this school for a full forty-eight hours and she’s already been in a fight with Sam, caused countless scenes, and is undermining our authority.”
“Undermining our authority or your authority? Causing scenes or are other people making those scenes?” August asks. “And Sam is always fighting someone so she’s a non-motherfucking factor, at all damn times, as far as I’m concerned. Or if I’m being perfectly honest, I think she should be the one on our list. Did you forget her little outburst, yesterday, about making us all hers? She’s starting to get too far ahead of herself. “
Everyone but Rowan hums in agreement. He has some valid points. Sam and her family are starting to be a problem. If I was being completely honest, she’s always been a problem. I’m just not sure we can deal with them yet. It’s one of the reasons she’s being watched now. The council thinks her father is up to something and Rowan’s job is to discover what that something is.
Between Sam’s father and the Senator, our plates are full. Emma popping up is a stressor we don’t need. The shadow organization working with the Senator is the most pressing matter. Whoever they are, they’re good. Every time I run my encrypted software program to capture images of whoever Senator Baker is meeting, there’s a blocking transmitter interrupting the signal.
I dig my nails into my palms, using the sting to stave off my growing frustrations with myself. The feel is a lighthouse guiding me back into the heated conversation and away from my intrusive thoughts.
Not to be outargued by August, Rowan begins to make his own points for why Emma should be on the list.
“Samantha is being handled. I have her under control. You all know what we need from her and until we get it she has to be dealt with accordingly. So, she’s not an issue. You all need to see what’s right in front of you. Our fathers are up to something.”
At the mention of our fathers, the air in the car gets suffocatingly thick. It’s not that our dads are heartless and uncaring, it’s more that they are unyielding. Since we were kids, they’ve pushed and molded us into the monsters we are today. They made us, in their words, ‘ruthless in ruling, unflappable in a crisis, and savage when taking what we want.’ They just didn’t know that in doing so they didn’t create beasts, they created the monsters that ate beasts for breakfast.
My finger moves to the power button to wind down the window, letting some of the stifling air escape. When the cool breeze of the late summer night wraps around me, the pressure anchoring my chest begins to lift in time to digest the rest of what Rowan is saying.
“Why else would that family be able to move into our town when no one moves into our town? Not to mention being able to move into one of our properties. There’s no chance that this is coincidental. This has our dads all over it and you’d all agree with me if everyone would just take one minute to think about it.”
Again we hum in agreement. This time everyone but August, who is absolutely sold on Emma. I’m not sure what he knows, but I know Wy. Once he’s locked in, Emma will have to shoot him in the heart to keep him away and even then he’d come back as a ghost just to be with her.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.