Spite: A Bully Reverse Harem Read online

  Everything teachers said. Everything parents said. I’d learned it was all bullshit from a very early age.

  The halls were mostly empty, which I used to my advantage. I’d never been in River High before. It was a two-story building with expansive halls and shiny new coats of paint on everything. Nothing remarkable. Nothing special. Just like every other high school on TV. I found my locker, stuffed my backpack into it, and with my notebooks in my hands, I wandered the halls, noting where my classes were later in the day.

  Getting lost when I should be enacting my revenge plot? Not something I wanted.

  The halls steadily grew full. Kids I didn’t recognize, from freshmen to other seniors, started to pack in like sardines. It was just another day to these students; some I noticed wore their pajamas. I didn’t think myself drop dead gorgeous, even with the makeup and nice clothes, but compared to these kids? I was a fucking goddess.

  Hmm. Maybe this wouldn’t be as tough as I anticipated.

  I made it to homeroom, and of course, the teacher made me stand up as she introduced me to the class. The high school teachers didn’t know me from my jaunt here from kindergarten to sixth grade, and for that I was thankful. I didn’t need anyone asking me if I was okay, if I’d gotten better. The truth was that I hadn’t—who could ever truly get over feeling like they wanted to die?

  The other students around me watched me with eyes too large and expressions so curious and obvious it took all my willpower not to roll my eyes. Yes, I wanted to say, I’m Elle Payne, and I’m back with a vengeance. Yeah…don’t think they would’ve taken it well.

  Each and every class I had, I scoped out the students. If any of them were in my classes, it would be based on sheer, dumb luck. It might make things a bit easier for me, too. I’d get to watch them, study them, think up the perfect ways to break them down and make them feel like they were no better than the gum sticking the undersides of the desks in the classrooms. Did it make me a bitch, wanting them to feel as worthless as they’d made me feel all those years?

  From fourth grade to the middle of sixth—I had been the subject of their mocking. It was before all the classes joined together and we had more than one teacher per subject, so there were at least twenty-seven other kids who deserved some kind of retribution, too. But I’d get to them later. The three who deserved it most would be my primary focus.

  There were a lot of kids I didn’t know, but I supposed it came with the territory. After all, the entire grade had combined when they entered high school, so the thirty kids I’d spent kindergarten to sixth grade with were among a sea of many. I’m sure some of them moved, too. Alec, Xander, and Christian—if any one of them moved, I’d just have to find out where.

  The math teacher was a kind-looking older woman named Ms. Hovanec. Her grey hair was cut short, thin-rimmed glasses sitting before her brown eyes. If my plan was going to work, I had to be a good, studious student. I had to participate in class and try my hardest with my homework and ace my tests. I had to be up their asses, basically, just in case I ever needed them on my side. Couldn’t have too many allies when you were stuck in a war of wills.

  So I smiled at Ms. Hovanec when I rose my hand to answer her question about whatever equation she had written on the whiteboard. Math, it seemed, was one class where technology didn’t help out too much. It’d take way too long to type in all those extra numbers and equations. And, call me weird, but I kind of liked old-fashioned chalkboards. My handwriting on them sucked, but that was neither here nor there.

  When the bell rang and the other kids filed out, Ms. Hovanec called me to her desk. I couldn’t spend much time talking with her since I had to drop off my new math textbook in my locker, but it wasn’t like I could ignore her, either.

  “I’m glad to see you’re adjusting well here,” Ms. Hovanec spoke, smiling at me, wrinkles around her eyes and her lips. “You were livelier than the rest of the class put together.” She chuckled.

  Well, that was because I’d already been up for hours doing my hair and makeup to look like a killer queen, but she didn’t need to know that.

  “Are you sure you’ll be comfortable in this class? If you want, I can talk to Mr. Gregory, see if he can take you in advanced calculus.”

  Being put in any advanced classes was the last thing I wanted. More work, harder to get good grades, and I highly doubted any of the three boys I was trying to find would be caught dead in an advanced class.

  All I said was “I’ll let you know,” even though letting her know was the last thing I wanted to do. Being thrown into an advanced class, getting dumped with loads of homework? No thanks. I’ll pass.

  But Ms. Hovanec seemed happy with my answer, so I spun and walked out, hurrying through the halls to my locker. After depositing my math book, I went to my next class upstairs in the literature hall. Most of the other students were already seated, and I nearly froze when I saw the person sitting against the opposite wall, leaning his back on the concrete instead of his chair, his legs spread out in the walkway like he was some awe-inspiring god.

  And maybe he was. Dirty blonde hair, cut short but messy all the same. Match his blonde locks with his blue eyes, his chiseled cheekbones and his Roman nose, not to mention his muscular frame, and he was every girl’s dream boyfriend. A jock, based on his Letterman jacket. I would know him from across any room, no matter how far he was or how close.

  Christian Moore. Target number one. Head honcho. The ringleader. Honestly, I could go on and on, but I wouldn’t. Mostly because he’d stopped talking to the other boys around him and was now staring straight at me, his mouth hanging slightly agape. I could tell he recognized me, at least somewhat, but he didn’t know who I was. He’d learn.

  Clutching my notebook against my chest, I headed to the teacher’s desk, my eyes falling to the small wooden plaque that said her name. Or, part of her name, maybe? Apple. It said Apple. Was her name really Apple? I looked up at the teacher, who’d turned away from her computer with a smile. I made sure to cock my hip, giving the class a good view of my ass. Christian was watching. I knew he was.

  She was nowhere near as old as Ms. Hovanec was, and she looked a little weird, to boot. “You’re our new student,” she spoke. “I’m Mrs. Appleton, but everyone calls me Apple.” Behind me, a few stragglers made their way into the room, narrowly missing tardiness as the bell rang overhead. “We’re currently working on—well, I’ll explain it to you later. Let me introduce you to the class.”

  God, if I could go the rest of the day without being introduced to anyone else, I’d be a happy camper.

  “Alright, settle down,” Apple spoke, and instantly the class quieted. She moved around her desk, setting an arm gently on my shoulder. I was slow to face them, eyes roaming the rows of desks until they landed on Christian.

  Inside my chest, I felt my heart flutter. Damn, he’d grown up hot. So hot ice melted when it was in the same room as him. If I wasn’t myself, I’d probably be drooling over him. Christian Moore was sexy and he knew it. I knew it, and I hated him. It was a sad waste of such good looks; a person so nasty, so downright vile and mean, didn't need them.

  “Class, this is Elle Payne. I trust you’ll make her feel welcome and help her catch up with our lessons,” Apple spoke, and I watched as the recognition fully flashed across Christian’s blue eyes.

  His eyebrows went together, a crease forming between them. His posture went rigid, and his hands folded on top of his desk. If he didn’t know who I was before, he sure as shit did now. Christian looked kind of upset.

  Go figure. My mere presence here upset him. Too bad, because he was in for a world of hurt. The prince of the school would pay for what he did to me.

  “Let’s break off into your groups,” Apple spoke, and the class started moving desks and forming squares. Everyone except one girl, who sat in the back corner by herself. Apple moved to her side, and I followed her, flicking my gaze to Christian every once in a while. He was surrounded by three other guys, trying to hide
his scowl.

  The prince was not happy I was here. Too damn bad.

  The girl we approached watched us with a silent kind of curiosity. She wore mostly black, her lips a nude color. Her hair was a pretty copper red, her pale skin speckled with dozens of freckles.

  “Georgia,” Apple said, gesturing to me. “I know you wanted to work alone, but seeing as how everyone else already has four to a group, why don’t you let Elle join you? Maybe lend her your notes from the class?”

  Georgia nodded, not saying anything. It was enough for Apple, apparently, for she only grinned and returned to her desk. I grabbed an empty desk near Georgia, but I didn’t drag it across the floor to link the flat tops like everyone else had.

  “We’re doing presentations on our favorite American writers,” Georgia spoke with a shrug. She was shorter than me, and probably weighed less than me. She had hardly any curves and her chest was near nonexistent. Her eyes were a vibrant green. “I chose Edgar Allen Poe.”

  In the past, I’d never been much a fan of the guy, mostly because stories involving murder and death weren’t my thing, but now—now they should be. Maybe they could give me some ideas as to what I could do. What was the one where the guy built a stone wall and trapped someone inside?

  I nodded. “That’s fine.”

  The class was full of chatter, and it was so loud I couldn’t tell whether or not anyone was talking about me. How far had gossip of me spread? Did every other sixth grade class know what I did? Was Christian filling them in on my past? Either way, it didn’t matter, mostly because I wasn’t the same broken girl I was back then.

  “If you want my notes, you can take them,” Georgia went on, her voice nearly drowning in the cacophony of noise around us.

  I met her eyes. She seemed nice, and I didn’t recognize her, meaning she either came from another sixth grade class or had transferred here sometime after I’d left. Maybe the latter, given how ostracized she was from the rest of the class.

  Hmm. Maybe this could work. The quiet ones might’ve been quiet, but they were able to notice things other people didn’t, because they didn’t waste all their time chitchatting. She could be my girl on the inside, the one who told me everything I needed to know. First, though, I’d have to get her to like me.

  “Thank you,” I said, even though I didn’t really want her notes. She seemed like the get down to business sort, so I crossed my ankles and asked, “Where are you with this project? What do you need me to do?”

  From what she explained to me, there were three parts to this project. It was due in a few weeks, and every Monday until then was set aside so we could work on it. The first part was a written paper that had to be at least five pages long. The second was a presentation in front of the class. The third and final part was some kind of visual aid that we had to use for the presentation. Beyond that, there were no more rules we had to follow. Everything was based on our creativity, apparently.

  Georgia shared what she had already with me. She wanted to do the paper portion first, and then focus on the other two, as the paper was worth more than the presentation and the visual aid combined. Made sense. She had a rough draft written down, and as I scanned through it, I came to one conclusion—Georgia was not a writer. The words didn’t flow, didn’t read right. I’d have to change that.

  As the class period went on, I felt eyes on me, and when I glanced up, I found Christian watching me with a pensive frown on his handsome face. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d changed, or if he’d try to start something with me again.

  Let him. Let him try. I wasn’t the same girl that I was six years ago. He wasn’t the same boy, either—more like a man now, but still. Boys in high school always had a weakness. Usually those weaknesses were girls. Sex. Something. But he was also a jock, meaning he had to keep decent grades to be on the team.

  Sabotaging grades seemed a little extreme, something that could affect his future—but what did it matter? What he and his friends did to me all those years ago…that could’ve ended my future. I could not afford to be weak when it came to these guys.

  The class period was almost over, and I was opening my mouth to ask Georgia a question, try to navigate the conversation to Christian to see if he was dating anyone—didn’t matter either way, though it would affect my plan a little—but another student knocked on the door. Apple went to open it, and the student in the hall handed her a slip of paper.

  Apple came up to Georgia and me, handing me the slip. “Principal Smith wants to see you,” she spoke quietly.

  Ugh, that damned principal.

  I took the note, gathered my things and left. Since it was before the bell, the hallways were empty. So empty it was eerie. A chill crept up my spine, and I fought off the memories. The last time I was in the principal’s office was…

  Well, it wasn’t fun.

  I wanted to curl into myself and disappear. My feet barely touched the floor as I sat in the cushioned chair on the other side of the principal’s desk. The principal and my mom were talking just outside, getting into an argument about me.

  “This is not the first time she’s been found hiding in the bathroom,” the principal’s voice was harsh, and it seemed to echo in the room, bouncing on the walls and making me wish I was smaller. “Elle cannot keep missing her classes—”

  “You are putting this all on my daughter,” Mom’s voice was just as snide, just as harsh as the principal’s. “Sounds like the only reason she was in the bathroom in the first place was to hide from the other kids! Do you know what those kids have said to her? Do you know how many times she’s come home crying because she doesn’t want to come back here?”

  “That is—”

  “That is bullying, plain and simple, and it sounds like your zero-tolerance policy is in effect for everyone but Elle,” Mom cut in, and I winced at the sound of her voice. “If you try to punish my daughter for what the other kids have done, I swear to God, I will drag your ass to court.” Taking people to court had become one of her favorite threats; she was there all the time anyway with Dad, so why not add a few more people into the mix?

  As they went back and forth, I looked to the windows behind the principal’s desk. They were open. I could crawl out, kick the screen, and run. I could run away and no one would miss me. Everyone would have less to deal with, fewer problems. I’d probably run…and no one would even notice I was gone.

  I felt my eyes tearing up. My normal state of being. I was always crying; that, or trying to hide the tears, trying to fight them and deny them their appearance. But I never won out, and I was growing so tired. So tired of all of this.

  I was twelve years old. Was this how life was going to be? I couldn’t imagine living until I was eighty or ninety. I…I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to feel like this forever. Unimportant, useless, a waste of space. I hated everyone making fun of me; I wanted to be invisible.

  The only way to be invisible, I realized, was to not be here in the first place.

  They’d said it; they’d all said it and laughed. Well, the joke would be on them, wouldn’t it? The day I didn’t come back to school, when the teacher told them what had happened to me, the joke would finally be on them and not me.

  I was going to kill myself.

  Chapter Three

  The last time I’d entered a principal’s office I’d decided on suicide. The option had come to me so easily, effortless, mostly because Christian, Alec, and Xander had suggested it time and time again. They took time out of their lunches to throw me notes and whisper in my ear; toss whatever ball they were playing with during recess at me, and when they came to retrieve it, they’d insult me and tell me to do it more. It wasn’t my idea; it was theirs.

  It was theirs, and they were going to pay for it.

  I found Mr. Smith, River High’s principal, standing near the windows in his office. He was a tall man, grey hair, the patches that weren’t balding, with a belly that Diane would call a beer gut. He looked like he could’ve been a l
inebacker way back in the day, but now he was just another old man.

  I stopped myself from sitting in the chair, the hall pass crinkling in my fingers as I watched him turn to me. “You wanted to see me?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Smith smiled at me, moving around the desk and leaning his backside on its edge. Something that worked better with thinner, younger people. When he did it, it just felt creepy. “I wanted to welcome you to River High, and tell you that you’re safe here.”

  “Safe?” I echoed, sounding stupid. Why in all the world would he tell me I was safe here, unless…unless he knew.

  “I know what happened, six years ago,” Mr. Smith went on, oblivious to my uncomfortableness. “And I want you to know that here, I tolerate no bullying of any sort. If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, you come straight to me.”

  Words that were supposed to be comforting only made me feel like throwing up. “How…” I couldn’t even voice the damned question. Dad wouldn’t have…

  “Your mother called yesterday, and we had a long discussion about what would be done if anything like that happens again.”

  My mother? My mother was…no, he meant my stepmother. Diane. How lovely. Already digging herself into my life, completely unwelcome. My fingers clenched into fists, and I resisted my urge to storm out of the room and whip out my cell phone to dial Diane and give her a piece of my mind.

  All I could do was nod.

  “If you ever need anything…” Mr. Smith’s words trailed off, and I nodded again, hightailing it out of his office before he could finish.

  Damn it. Now I’d have the principal watching over me like a hawk. It might put a damper on things, make my scheming more difficult, but I would not let Mr. Smith’s eagle eyes stop me from what I set out to do. Christian, Xander, and Alec would pay.

  My next few classes were unmemorable. Social studies, economics, speech. Georgia was also in my speech class, so I sat next to her in the back. This day was the day from hell. The never ending day of torture. Since English class, I’d only gotten a few glimpses of Christian in the hallways. I was starting to doubt that Xander Hill and Alec Perry were still in this school.