Hateful by Eden Beck

Chapter Eighteen

Heath passesby my table in science and surreptitiously drops a folded slip of paper onto it. I reach out and take it just after he passes.

This has become the normal for us, but it might not be as secret as I’d hoped. It’s not easy setting up clandestine meetings when everyone has their eyes on you thanks to one of you being The Brotherhood and the other one’s their bitch.

“More secret notes?” Rafael asks in a low voice, leaning over toward me.

“Shh.” I unfold the paper. In Heath’s hasty scrawl, it just reads, First practice today. Meet at dining hall at usual time. I’ll walk you.

“He’ll walk you, huh?” Rafael makes a face as I fold the paper back up. “It’s getting pretty serious, then?”

“I guess it’s just so I don’t show up at the practice unexpected and piss off Beck and Jasper.”

“Have you asked why he hasn’t told them?” Rafael turns back to his notes. He’s all filled in; I told him a few days ago what I was planning.

“It’s probably better if Beck doesn’t know until I get there. That way he can’t do something horrible to me at the first practice.”

“At the first practice,” he mutters in response. I choose to pretend not to hear that.

I also know it’s kind of a pointless gesture, if it is well meaning. I’m sure Beck doesn’t need much time to plan out just when and how he’s going to bully me.

I’m pretty sure he comes up with most of his shit on the fly. Especially since the new year started.

Maybe that girl he was with before break tempered him. Or maybe Jasper’s aggression has simply passed on to him like some sort of virus. Now that Jasper has gotten over it, Beck’s only gotten it worse.

After classes are done for the day, I grab dinner and take it back to my dorm to eat while I get some homework done. I’ve fallen into a routine for the past couple months and hadn’t even recognized it. Even now that Beck is back to his usual antics, or maybe because he’s back to his usual antics, I’m almost … comfortable now.

Or maybe comfortable isn’t the right word to use when it comes to my run-ins with Beck. Just last week he grabbed me by my backpack and shoved me down the entrance steps into the courtyard. It’s only a few steps, thankfully, but I was scratched up pretty badly.

Nothing compared to the last time I faced a set of stairs facing the wrong way up.

I keep one eye on my clock nervously. Rafael has been spending a lot of time with Neville recently—they often stay in the dining hall long past when they’re done eating, just chatting about whatever—so I’m alone while I eat. I was feeling just fine about all this, but now I’m not so sure. What Rafael said earlier has me rattled.

I’ve grown comfortable in other ways too. I’ve never been jealous of a friend’s time before, but now … now I keep finding myself wondering what Rafael would say if I told him everything going on inside my head.

He might be an asshole, but he’s nothing like the rest of the assholes here I have to deal with on a daily basis.

I keep worrying about what Beck will do when he sees me and Heath on the field? Will he react badly? Will Heath and Jasper be able to stop him if he does? Will they want to?

There’s also the possibility that this is all a setup, but I don’t find it likely. It would be an incredibly long con for Heath to pull off.

And something about him lately … it just doesn’t seem like he’d go and do this next.

Just do it,I think to myself. Stop being a coward.

I push aside my homework, toss my trash in the bin by the door, and start getting dressed for a run.

I pass Rafael and Neville on the way back to the dining hall, and Rafael gives me a concerned look while Neville waves obliviously. I just nod at them and try to push the nervous feeling out of my chest.

If even Rafael is worried …

No. No more of that. I’ve made up my mind.

I’m doing this for Heath. Somehow, that thought calms me a bit. It’s been a while since someone wanted me to do something for them that I actually had a choice in. Not that I really had a choice with the way Heath kept looking at me with those big puppy-dog eyes every time he asked.

There are a few stragglers in the gymnasium and even a few latecomers that push in past me when I arrive. I don’t need to go inside. Heath waits for me just outside the door. He breaks into a huge grin when he sees me and bounds toward me just like a golden retriever that caught sight of a stick.

I’m the stick, even if I haven’t been exactly looking like one lately. Pretty soon I’m going to have to ask for a size up in uniforms just to keep my ass under wraps.

“Ready?” Heath asks cheerfully as soon as he’s by my side. “I told Beck and Jasper that I’m bringing someone for the third leg of the race, but they don’t know who it is.”

On the opposite end of the spectrum from me, he’s wearing tight running shorts and a T-shirt that shows off every muscle of his body. It’s everything I can do to try not to stare down between his legs, though my eyes keep drifting there without me telling them to. I focus, instead, on his biceps, on the shape of his chest and shoulders beneath his shirt … but it’s not much better.

I feel my thighs tighten and I have to look away, find something else to focus on to make my body forget even when my mind doesn’t.

“Uh—okay,” I stammer out, trailing behind him. He grabs me by the elbow and pulls me up to walk level with him. He doesn’t let go as we walk through the hallways toward the track out behind the school. “So, you guys didn’t want to do tryouts?”

“Nah. Jasper and Beck had some guys in mind, but they all declined. Something about Beck’s temper.” He shrugs, but he gives me a knowing sideways grin.

I can’t blame those people who turned them down; Beck’s temper is what’s keeping me from jumping headfirst into this, too. Again, I’m struck by the ridiculousness of what I’m doing.

Almost as stricken as the fact that multiple students dared turn down an invitation from The Brotherhood.

Just like I suspected, maybe they’re losing their iron-clad grip on the school after all.

“And a few of them,” Heath continues, still steering me by the elbow as we push our way outside, “asked why we didn’t just get our bitch to do it.”

My face has never gone from red to white so fast.

These days I’d almost forgotten that I’m The Brotherhood’s bitch. Of course I think about it from time to time, but it doesn’t hold the same power over me as it once did. The only person who ever invokes that anymore is Beck, and even he is less inclined to do it, opting instead for straight up physical abuse. No words needed.

My stomach clenches again. What is he going to do to me?

Beck is bad enough on his own when he hasn’t been taunted into, I don’t know, somehow being worse.

I feel another pang in my stomach, but this time for a different reason.

There was a moment last semester when I thought there was something between me and Beck. Something more than hormone-fueled exploration between what was supposedly two boarding school boys.

But it’s gone now, and just thinking about it … it hurts.

We walk past the bleachers, and there’s Jasper and Beck wearing similar clothes to Heath—tight running shorts, running shoes, muscle tees. Beck wears a beanie that covers his ears. It frames his face and makes his cheekbones look even more severe as he turns and notices us.

Jasper’s face pales while Beck’s reddens. Neither of them move, however. They wait for Heath to pull me over to the start of the track where they stand frozen.

“What the hell is this?” Beck demands, gesturing to me.

“Say hello to our third-leg runner,” Heath replies happily. He squeezes my elbow. He’s still not letting go.

“What the hell, Heath?” Jasper echoes. His eyes dart to my face, then away, to Heath’s.

“He can’t run our third leg,” Beck snaps. “He’s too weak.”

I’m a bit taken aback by his reaction, and I think it shows. Is he really angry because he thinks I’m weak … or is it because he didn’t think to force me to come himself?

Or is it because I wasn’t forced at all.

“He’s actually really fast,” Heath counters. “Want to time him around the curve of the track? Do you remember your time around the curve?” he adds a little savagely to Beck.

Jasper cocks his head to the side with a thoughtful look. “Actually, yeah. Let’s time … him.” He has to stop himself, obviously stumbling over the pronoun. For one second, I feel sick. Exposed. Thankfully, I seem to be the only one who notices. I also seem to be the only one who notices that he’s scowling hard at Heath’s grip on my elbow.

Don’t go getting jealous on me now, Jasper,I think. I’ve seen where Jasper’s jealousy leads.

“Go ahead and get dressed,” Heath says happily. “You remember where the locker rooms are.”

He nods over towards a door in the wall, but I meanwhile just make a gesture down at what I’m wearing.

“I’m already dressed.”

He looks at me doubtfully. I’m in an old pair of Spencer’s track pants from when he was a skinny waif, a baggie hoodie that used to be Caleb’s, and my running shoes … since none of theirs would fit.

Next to these three athletic, muscular guys, I look like a tiny formless lump.

“Okay,” Heath says carefully, but I still shoot him a look. He knows this is what I wear on my runs; why is now so different?

Jasper and Heath set up the boundaries while I stretch my leg muscles. Of course, Beck watches the goings-on with a scowl. I feel his eyes lingering on me. I don’t know why he hates me all of a sudden. Not that it’s too sudden now. It’s been this way for months, ever since I came back from break.

Or maybe it was before that.

Maybe he’s been this way ever since our kiss.

Maybe he regrets it.

Me … well …

I still remember the feeling of him shoving me against the wall of the locker rooms, his mouth searching hungrily for mine. At the time, I’d liked it. I’d leaned into it. Now, I think that if he comes within eight feet of me, I’ll scream my head off.

He still thinks I’m a boy. I wonder if that’s what makes him angry. I wonder if he’s angry because he likes me, and he doesn’t know why. Maybe he’s afraid to think of the why.

He certainly likes me enough to kiss me. Or did.

“All right, Alex!” Heath calls, pulling me back to the anxious present. Jasper positions himself at the furthest boundary, the one I have to run to. They’ve set it up so that I have a little ways to run before I hit the curve, just enough to get my speed up, and then straight just a little bit after.

Heath grins at me from the starting line they’ve laid out, but I walk over with more than a little apprehension. What if he’s wrong? What if I’m not as fast as he thinks I am? What will Beck do to me then?

I line up at the starting line. Heath stands level with me, stopwatch in hand, grinning as I ready up. “You ready?” he asks quietly.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Okay. Go fast. Ready, set, go!”

I take off. I’m not used to running on such flat ground. The hiking trails are flattened down, sure, but there’s still rocks and roots jutting up from the dirt path to trip me up. My feet fly over the easy terrain. Now that I don’t need to focus on avoiding obstacles, I can just … go.

My legs pump faster than they ever have on the trail. It feels like I’ve been holding myself back this whole time, devoting half my brainpower to just staying on my feet. The curve comes up and I go around it easily.

I hear myself bark out a laugh like it belongs to someone else.

This is … easy.

Before I know it, I’ve flown past Jasper. I slow down, coast to a stop, and turn around to gauge his reaction, only doubling over for a second to catch my breath. He’s staring at the stopwatch incredulously.

The look on his face gives me a rush all of its own.

I’m breathing hard, but I’m not gasping for breath. At the beginning of the semester, I probably would’ve been so tired I couldn’t do anything else after running so hard, but now I feel energized. I want to run some more. I want to run it again and again, see if I can beat my own time.

We all converge on Jasper, even Beck, though he’s slower about it. Jasper looks up into Heath’s grinning face.

“How’d he do?” Beck demands, folding his arms. I see the muscles cording his forearms, his severe cheekbones. He could be a model. Why does he have to be such a douche?

Jasper mutely holds up the stopwatch.

“Twelve seconds,” Heath says triumphantly. “I got twelve and a half.” He holds up his own stopwatch. “But I was probably delayed at stopping it.”

“Impossible,” Beck scoffs. “I only got fourteen.”

I know this is part of his little act, or whatever, but it doesn’t stop the little pang of annoyance.

“I can run it again if you want,” I offer, trying hard—and failing—to keep the attitude out of my voice.

Beck glares at me so hard I’m surprised I don’t burst into flames. He grits his teeth as his eyes flick up and down my body.

“Do it, then. Run it again, and I’ll time it.” He reaches out and snatches the stopwatch from Jasper.

Jasper watches me in amazement as I walk back to the starting line and do a few stretches there.

I run it again. Beck scowls.

“Again,” he insists.

So I do it again. And again. And again, never going over thirteen and a half seconds. By the end of it, I’m panting, red-faced, sweaty—but grinning up at Beck as I catch my breath, watching the scowl twisting his face.

“Well, it’s not like it’s an Olympic track,” Beck mutters finally. “If it was—”

“He’d still take the curve faster than you,” Heath points out. “He’s our best chance at winning.”

Jasper nods in agreement, if a bit reluctantly. “After the debate, we really can’t lose.”

Beck’s eyes turn fiery. He turns to me and jams his finger into my chest. “Don’t think this changes anything,” he growls. “You’re still my—our—bitch.” He turns and stalks back across the track to the locker room.

Jasper smiles at me, but I don’t return it. Heath slaps me on the back and drapes his arm around my shoulders.

“Come on, Flash,” he says happily. “Let’s get you into a shower.”

But I’m not thinking about Heath or showers.

I’m thinking about Beck.

I’m thinking about the way I felt another rush—a very different kind of rush—at the thought of being his bitch.

Not The Brotherhood’s bitch. Beck’s.

If the way my stomach flutters is any indication, his little slip of the tongue is going to get me in trouble.