“Do I look like I have x-ray vision?” is his response.
I figure that’s a rhetorical question and stay silent for once. Finally, the boy sitting in front of me turns and surreptitiously slides a folded piece of paper onto my desk. I take it and unfold it, still trying to act like I’m a good little schoolboy taking notes.
Jasper’s handwriting is remarkably neat. Pretty, even. And it clashes horribly with the words he’s wasted his ink to write.
Hey shithead, it begins.
Nice. I’ve always wanted to be insulted in such beautiful script.
Hey shithead,
I don’t care if your little virgin ass comes to the party looking for some strange. You wanna get your dick wet, that’s your business. But don’t go waving your tiny prick where it doesn’t belong. Stay away from my girl, or you’ll pay. Trust me.
Sincerely,
Jasper
He’s even signed it; how lovely. There’s no wondering who he means by ‘my girl’.
I push the note at Rafael, who reads it quickly before giving it back.
“On second thought,” he whispers to me, “maybe don’t go.”
“Sounds good.” I glance up and accidentally meet Jasper’s gaze.
Got it? he mouths angrily.
I nod.
He nods too and turns back to the front. Somehow, I don’t think it matters if I go to the party. I don’t think it matters if I never speak to or even see Olive again. Not that I want to. Even girl me wouldn’t be friends with a girl like that.
But I don’t think any of that matters.
My throat feels dry and tight. If Jasper decides I’m the reason he doesn’t get what he wants, then I doubt my little ‘bitch’ problem is going to end with more book-slapping and a few snide remarks.
If I’m not careful, things are going to get a lot worse.
Beck takes a second to glance back at me, and there’s a look in his eyes …
I don’t like it.
If I’m not careful, I’m going to die here, I swear.
Aside from the whole “being bullied by an ancient fraternity” thing, the first couple weeks at Bleakwood soon turn out to be mostly unremarkable. Classes keep me and the rest of The Brotherhood busy
, busy enough that I soon start to lose track of time.
Right up until I get the note that sports will be starting up, and I’m served a grim reminder of my first major mistake. The first lacrosse practice looms over me like a dark cloud.
I slip out to the back of the school after class and pull out a cigarette with trembling fingers. Chain-smoking is what Rafael advised me to do, and I’ve been diligent. I still hate it, of course, but it’s getting easier to suck down the smoke.
I like it out here on the back grounds. With nowhere to sit and nothing to do, it’s the only place I’ve found to truly be alone. It’s just me and the wall and these damn cigarettes.
I finish my first and immediately light up another. Dinner will be starting soon, but I’ve taken to waiting until almost all the food is gone and everyone’s cleared out. Less of a chance of running into The Brotherhood. I’ve had my tray knocked out of my hands, been yanked out of the line so they could take my place, and gotten my food stolen, but all that’s fine; I can’t eat too much anyway, or I’ll gain a single pound and my figure will immediately become girlish. My weight goes right to my hips, after all. It’s a fact that Rafael is all too keen to remind me of.
I swear I woke up bloated on Wednesday and he nearly had a heart attack.
The door I came through suddenly bangs open. I jump and accidentally drop the still-smoldering cigarette onto the ground as Rafael storms angrily out toward me, slamming the door shut behind him.