Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals, #1)(5)
Everyone is pretending I don’t exist or coughing mean names behind their fists.
“Missed you at lunch,” he says.
I snort. “Yeah, okay.”
He puts his hand on the back of my neck, his fingers soft for a second before they dig into my skin. I suppress a shiver. He uses pressure to steer me down the hall, into the throng of students headed for their classes.
In the middle of everyone, he gives me a light shove.
It’s enough to send me to my knees. Everyone fall silent at the movement.
Mortification rings through me.
“This isn’t your school,” Caleb says, leaning down.
I’m pretty sure he’s amplifying his words on purpose, because now everyone is turned in our direction. His friends join us, circling around.
“Why don’t you go back to the trash family that raised you? Leave the rest of us alone. Oh, I forgot. Your mom’s probably high out of her mind in a gutter, and dear old dad is getting ass-raped on the regular in prison.”
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper.
He leans down, grabbing my arm and hauling me back up. “Why? You don’t really know anything, do you?” He sneers. “You’re a sheep in a wolf’s clothing. No threat at all.”
Do not fucking cry.
“Run along now, little sheep.”
He releases me, and I move, too startled to walk straight. My shoulder hits one of his friends, and it’s like hitting a truck. It sends me off-kilter. Once I have my bearings, I push through the crowd.
It’s only when I find a bathroom, ducking into it, that the tears break loose. I didn’t do anything to deserve this. Hell, all I’ve done today is walk into a firestorm—one that my apparent departure seven years ago created.
“Margo?”
I sniff, wiping my nose on my arm. “In here.”
Riley pushes open the stall, staring down at me. “That was…”
“A lot?”
“A drop in the bucket.”
I wince. “Really?”
“The golden boys of Emery-Rose are nothing but nasty to their minions.” She leans against the wall. “Sorry to break it to you. I’ve been the target of Eli’s fury for years.”
“Well, they can’t get away with it.”
“They can and they will.” Riley sighs. “Their families are the richest of the rich. My parents are well-off, and I’m…” She shakes her head. “I’m the lowlife around here.”
“You’re not.” I lift myself up, brushing off invisible dust from my skirt.
She hands me a wad of toilet paper, and I take a second to clean up my face. My eyes are bloodshot, eyelids a little puffy, but otherwise, I look normal. The bell rings, echoing in the bathroom. “Maybe we should skip.”
“The rest of the day?” Riley glances around. “It’s your first day—”
Ugh. “Okay, fine. Guess I’ll just take the detention for being late.”
We head back into the hallway; it’s a ghost town.
She cracks a smile. “If you want, we can meet tomorrow before school. Everyone hangs out in the courtyard, and they don’t let us inside till the first bell.”
I return her smile, grateful that she didn’t cut and run. “Safety in numbers?”
“Something like that.” She glances at my schedule and steers me in the right direction. She drops me off, then jogs away.
For a second, I envy the way she can shake off everything. It sticks to my skin like glue: the negativity, Caleb’s fury. I hand the teacher my schedule, and she clears her throat, motioning for me to take my seat without a word. I’m grateful that no one I know is in this class… until Liam walks in.
The teacher doesn’t even stop talking, or spare him a glance.
He stops right next to me, staring down, and says, “Nice little show, Sheep.”
I keep my gaze on the desk.
If I was wondering about nicknames, I guess we’ve found mine. A sheep in a wolf’s clothing. Ha, ha.
Eleven months till freedom—but only nine until I graduate. I’ve made it through worse. I can survive this.
3
On Saturday, Riley arrives at the Jenkins house early. Early enough to interrupt brunch, which is apparently a tradition. She charms Lenora and Robert, sitting and helping herself to a pancake.
“I was hoping to take Margo to the mall,” she says, smiling at both of them. “Is that okay?”
“Oh, that would be excellent.” Lenora pats my hand.
She’s fond of that.
“I’ll get you some cash. You can pick out some new clothes if you want.”
I manage to smile.
On Friday, after a week of staring at me from afar, Caleb approached. I was sitting on the bench, tying my running shoes on for gym class. My boots and bag were next to me.
It wasn’t fair that he looks perfect in a form-fitting t-shirt and shorts. I felt like a bag of marshmallows beside him.
He lifted my boot, grimacing. “Did they give you these as compensation?” he asked.
I raised my eyebrow, choosing not to answer. Choosing not to start anything. Who knows what he’s talking about, anyway.
But apparently that was the wrong thing to do, because he dug his fingers into my boot and nearly ripped the bottom half of the tread off. I wore my sneakers for the rest of the day, soaked from the rain we were running in.