“This is a pretty sight,” an evil voice cackles from above me.
I glance up, and Laurel’s standing there, holding a tray full of food in her hands.
“You’re exactly where you belong. Groveling at my feet like the bitch you are.” She sneers then reaches onto her tray, dragging a handful of tater tots through ketchup and tossing them toward my upper thighs. “There you are. Right at home, fetus-killing slut.”
She moves to tip the rest of the tray’s contents onto me, and I flinch, readying for the impact.
“What the fuck is going on here?” a deep voice booms.
Laurel freezes, the color draining from her face. I turn my head to see what she’s staring at, and I spot Saint, Rosalind, and Liam making their way towards us with Gabe trailing a few feet behind. It appears they’ve just arrived at the dining hall. Now, the only question is, are they here to help me?
Or Laurel?
Rosalind and Saint stop within a few feet of me and each glare at Laurel, who meekly lowers her tray.
“I said,” Saint growls, “what the fuck is going on here?”
“I … it’s … well, you see, Mallory….” Laurel stammers. She falls apart so easily around Saint, I almost pity her.
“We’re just giving this whore a taste of her own medicine,” the brunette from earlier snaps. They’ve moved to stand to the side of the gods, and there really must be strength in numbers because I can’t think of anyone at this school that would dare glare at those three the way those girls currently are. “She shouldn’t take what isn’t hers, Saint. We were doing it for Rosalind.”
It’s clear they’re furious with him as well as me, but their bravery only goes so far. I’m an easy target to torment.
When Rosalind steps toward me, I almost expect her to kick me while I’m down with one of her Louboutin Mary Janes, but she surprises the hell out of me. She gives them a withering look and softly says, “Does it look like I need you bitches to defend me?”
“But Rosalind, we—”
“I don’t care. I trust Saint,” she says, which makes me question her judgement. “And if he says that he didn’t—”
“I didn’t.” He scoffs. “Do you really think I’d fuck this piece of trailer trash? Been there, done that, got the blow job. She’s not worth the trouble, so back off.”
It’s weird how he’s defending me by deeply insulting me. I’m not sure whether to be infuriated or grateful to him and Rosalind.
“B-but Saint…” Laurel looks as though he’s just threatened to take away her favorite toy.
He narrows his eyes at her, and when he speaks, his voice is steel. “I said back the fuck off.”
She releases a little gasp, but wisely snaps her mouth shut and slowly nods.
“As a matter of fact, everyone can back the fuck off!” he barks, turning his rage on the silent crowd around us. Like cockroaches suddenly exposed to light, everyone scatters, including Rosalind’s fan club. I guess they reached the limits of their courage.
Laurel lingers, but not for long. She gazes at Saint with such longing, it makes me nauseous. How can she still want him so badly after how he’s toyed with her?
“Piss off, L,” Gabe hisses at length.
Her nostrils flare, and she looks like she wants to object, but she obediently turns and flounces off.
When I’m certain everyone has wandered away, I sit up and take stock of myself. I have aches and sore spots all over my body from being hit with various objects, and there’s one particularly tender spot on my cheek that I’m pretty certain is going to bruise.
“Here.” When I look up, I’m surprised that the hand extended toward me is pale and feminine, with manicured pink nails, but I accept it. Rosalind doesn’t look at me again once I’m on my feet, but I don’t blame her.
Because she was wrong. She shouldn’t trust Saint around me and that makes me feel like shit.
Before I can murmur a thank you, Liam steps between us, a muscle spasming in his jaw as he asks, “You all right?”
“I’m fine,” I lie. I’m not fine. Not even a little, but I’m not about to break down in this place.
I glance toward Saint and am surprised by how angry he looks. His eyes are locked on my hand, which is still resting in Liam’s grip. Jealous again?
He doesn’t have a right to be.
Just like I shouldn’t care when he wraps his arm around Rosalind’s shoulder and whispers something in her ear that makes her eyes snap wide before she gives him a slow nod.
Swallowing, I turn my gaze back up to Liam.
“I think I’m going to go,” I murmur.
He nods, his eyes soft as he gives my fingers a squeeze.
“That’s probably a good idea,” he says. “If I were you, I’d just take the rest of the day to myself.”
It’s not a bad idea. I shoot him a small, thankful smile, then draw my hand from his. I don’t look at Rosalind or Saint again as I turn to walk out of the hall, but I can feel his eyes boring into me with every step I take.
14
“Mallory! Open up! We’ve got tequila!”
I shake my head, grinning as I hurry to answer my door. Loni and Henry are standing on the other side. Henry is holding a pizza box in addition to Loni’s bottle of tequila.
“What all this for?” I ask.
She holds the two shot glasses in her hands above her head and declares, “We’re here to get shitfaced!”
Henry shakes his head with a chuckle. “Mostly, we’re here to cheer your cute ass up.”
“Ahh, you guys are the best.” I step aside to let them in, then shut the door behind us.
Loni crosses the room to plop down on my bed, and Henry puts the pizza box down on my desk.
“You guys didn’t have to do this,” I tell them, even though I’m more touched than they could possibly know.
“When you weren’t in class today, we got worried,” Loni explained as she unscrewed the cap to the tequila. “Have you ever skipped class since you got here?”
I shake my head. “No, I haven’t. Today, though, I just … I just needed—”
Loni puts her hand up to silence me. “No need to explain. Totally understandable. I’m just so sorry I wasn’t there to defend you, Mallory. I’m so pissed at myself for letting you down.”
“You didn’t,” I insist quickly. “I promise, I’m fine. It was just stupid people being stupid and taking advantage of Monday morning faculty meetings and no adult supervision.”
Besides, the last thing I want is for Loni to feel responsible for my wellbeing. She’s done more for me than I could’ve ever hoped for from anyone in this place. The truth is, though, everyone else hates me and a lot of them want to hurt me. She can’t always be there to protect me.
“Dude, there’s literally a bruise forming on your cheek,” she points out. “Don’t stand there and tell me you’re fine when you clearly went through something fucked up at the hands of that bitch Laurel.”
She’s right, and I can’t deny it, but I don’t tell her how bad things really are. I don’t tell her about all the vicious texts I’ve gotten today telling me I should kill myself, or the disgusting ones from guys showing me their dicks and asking to fuck me. My phone’s on silent now because I simply can’t take it anymore.