Hateful by Eden Beck

Chapter Six

The promised flyersstart showing up only a few days after the assembly, and right alongside them Headmistress Robin becomes an almost permanent presence in the school.

I see her all over the place, her dark hair wound up in a bun at the back of her head, heels clicking as she walks place to place, usually accompanied by some of the school faculty and a small cluster of girls from her school.

I do my best to stay out of her sight, but I know it’s a temporary solution. Rafael might have bought me some time, but she’ll find me … eventually. When she needs to. I still dodge her every time I see her; just the sound of clicks on tile is enough to make me fling myself into the nearest open room in a panic.

I know she’s spotted me a couple times, but I’ve always managed to slither away before she can entangle me in conversation.

“Your ass isn’t going away,” Rafael says conversationally one Saturday morning after a particularly close brush. I actually had to slip into the boy’s locker room and hang out there for long enough to see more flaccid shlongs than I ever wanted to in my life.

I let out an irritated groan as I examine my aforementioned backside in the mirror. Am I just hitting some sort of puberty growth spurt? Am I a late bloomer? I run my hand along my backside, quietly fuming.

“Maybe I should start exercising.”

“With that appetite of yours, it wouldn’t hurt,” Rafael says, earning himself a smack across the back of the head with my pillow. He just rights himself back up and gives me a scrutinizing look. “Lacrosse season is over, right? You need something to make up for all that exercise you were doing before.”

I shoot him a glance, and he grins at me, letting me know he’s being sarcastic.

The Brotherhood forced me to join the lacrosse team last semester, and I spent most of my time doing everything I could to keep myself from playing, including throwing myself down a flight of stairs. I ended up actually helping the team out near the end of the season, but it certainly wasn’t enough exercise to keep me rail-thin. I’ve always been a stick; that’s just how my body is.

Or so I thought. I pat my butt thoughtfully, then head to my dresser and start opening drawers.

“What are you doing?” Rafael asks.

“Looking for workout clothes. I may as well start now.” I pull out one of the sports bras I packed.

“Okay … and what, exactly, are you going to do?”

“Run, I guess. What else is there?” I start changing into the mildly workout-themed clothes I’ve brought.

“Well, wear a jacket. It’s cold as hell outside.”

“Hell is hot.”

“Shut up.”

I grin at him and get changed.

Honestly, I’m not hurting for cold-weather workout clothes. I’ve got plenty of oversized hoodies and enough sports bras and bandages to turn myself into a head-to-toe mummy if need be. I tug the drawstrings on my hood when I hit the icy cold air outside, shiver, and start jogging away from the school, picking a random direction.

I vaguely remember the dean saying something about hiking trails, so I scan the horizon for signs of one—and sure enough, find a narrow path heading into the woods near the school. It’s nice and open. The trees aren’t too dense close to the path, and I can see the bushes between the trunks.

It’s bitterly cold. I’m immediately grateful for my layers of clothes, but as I keep running down the trail, I become a little too hot. I won’t need to wear three pairs of socks next time.

The woods here aren’t quite like the ones back in Ohio. The trees are different. I huff and puff my way up the trail, then pause and turn back to head back to school. I’m not sure how long it’s been, but I’m hungry now, and I want some breakfast.

At least one thing in my life is consistent.

I see some animal tracks on my way back. Were they there before? There are some mildly large pawprints that make me wonder if I need to be worried.

A vague memory returns to me from the beginning of last year. Beck, or was it Heath, made a comment about wolves on my first day here at Bleakwood. I thought it was just a joke, but from the size of the paw prints in the snow, I’d do well to be careful.

I emerge from the forest and start jogging back toward the school—only to freeze in my own tracks. Standing near the tree line some ways away is Heath. He’s bundled in his winter clothes, his dark hair even darker against the snowy backdrop.

We look at each other for a moment. I haven’t interacted with him at all since I got back to school. Not so much as an unfriendly hello. Our eyes meet, and for a moment I feel a pang in my stomach.

Part of me wants to rush over to him and talk to him, ask him about his Christmas break—but the more rational bits of my brain remind me I should be avoiding him at all costs. He’s my bully, not my friend.

Just like the rest of them.

But then Heath waves at me, a boyish grin breaking out over his face. I should ignore him. I should head the other direction, wait for him to disappear.

But that look on his face, it makes that pit in my stomach grow until it’s a massive, bottomless chasm, and I have no choice but to wave back before he slips back inside ahead of me.

Ignore them,I remind myself.

Even when I know that isn’t going to be possible. Not when the way his grin widened at the sight of me made that pit in my stomach dissolve into butterflies. Not when the memory of seeing him standing there against the snowy mountains is imprinted on the backs of my eyelids long after he’s gone.

Heath.

If only he was as ugly on the outside as he acts sometimes, it would make this whole thing just … so, so much easier.

* * *

Monday morning findsme perfectly fine, but the same can’t be said for Rafael.

“I told you not to party on a Sunday night,” I sigh at him as I shove my foot into my shoe.

“Shut up with your logic.” He rolls over and pulls his blankets over his head. “And turn the light off.”

“I need to see, Mr. Hangover.” I grab a clean hoodie and tug it on. “It’s not my fault you were up until five in the morning drinking.”

Rafael groans. “You’re making my head hurt.”

“You made your head hurt. Want me to tell the nurse you’re sick?”

“Do whatever you want.”

He throws a pillow at me, which I dodge and toss back onto his bed before grabbing my backpack and heading out. It’s nice to be on the other end of the hangover stick for once. Back when The Brotherhood had it out for me, drinking and the following hangovers were starting to be a regular thing.

I can do without them.

Even more, I can do without the regret and bleary memories that so often accompanied them.

It’s not until I’m walking down an empty corridor that I become nervous and realize that I’m alone. I’ve been counting on having Rafael with me all the time to shield me from The Brotherhood, but now, if they showed up, what would I do?

As if on cue, Heath appears at the end of the hallway. He grins as he spots me, heading straight in my direction.

“Alex!” he says happily, no sign of the bully he’s been to me the last six months anywhere on his face. I know the truth, however, so I purse my lips and keep walking.

Maybe I can just hurry past.

But no such luck. He just turns and falls into step with me.

“How’s your break been?” he asks jovially, as if the last six months we’ve been the very best of friends … not trapped in some weird, complicated power trip. “I haven’t talked to you since we got back.”

I shrug. I’d forgotten how just plain hot Heath is. His sharp jawline, his rakish grin, the easy way he moves and speaks; I can’t lie to myself. He’s attractive, and I’m definitely attracted to him despite my best efforts.

But he’s also an asshole.

He must not like my response, or lack thereof, because he suddenly jumps in front of me, making me stop abruptly. I look nervously at our surroundings. There’s no one else around.

“I didn’t know you liked the hiking trails,” he says, his voice soft.

I take a step back. There’s a wall behind me. I stiffen, staring up at his piercing eyes.

I’m trying to decide if there’s something hidden to what he’s saying. Is this some kind of warning?

He comes closer and places a hand on the wall near my shoulder, the sleeve of his jacket brushing against me. The touch of it makes it suddenly very hard to think clearly.

“You look good when you’re not wearing your hoodie,” he says softly, leaning toward me. His face comes incredibly close. His surprisingly full lips part slightly. “You should do that more often. Y’know—stop hiding.”

My heart pounds in my chest. God, he’s so close, and he’s so hot. What if I just lean forward? What if I just kiss him? I imagine it, the warmth, the soft feeling of his lips against mine.

“You look so soft,” he says, his hand reaching toward my face. “Almost like a girl.”

It’s like lightning strikes me. I bend my knees and duck beneath his outstretched arm, sliding around behind him.

“No thanks,” I call over my shoulder as I take off running down the hall.

No thanks, what?

I chance a small look back. He’s still in that pose. His eyes linger on my body in a way that looks almost hungry as I dodge around a corner, heart pounding.

What … what was that?

What just happened?