SURVIVOR Read online

  I hear a knock. Marissa, wearing a pretty blue sundress with a sweetheart neckline, perches herself at my doorway. “Hi, looks like you are settling in.” Her blue eyes wander around, lingering on Officer Bear.

  I’m not used to talking to a lot of girls and some of my confidence ebbs. But I do what I always do when I feel nervous or scared. I hide it. “Meet Officer Bear, my protector,” I say with a cheeky grin.

  Marissa doesn’t say anything, and I wonder if she thinks I’m a big baby. She notes the picture of me and Cassie. An uneasy feeling wells up within me because I feel like she’s scoping me out rather than welcoming me.

  “Here’s your pillow—oh, sorry.” Dad stops when he sees Marissa in my room.

  A big smile transforms Marissa’s face and I blink a few times. “Mr. Zelinsky, how wonderful to see you again. I’m Marissa.”

  “Oh. Yes, I remember.”

  I take my things from my dad. I haven’t brought a lot of my clothes except for a few casual outfits and items like towels.

  “I’m just two doors down, Juliet,” Marissa says helpfully.

  My dad laughs. “Just don’t call her Jules. She hates that nickname.”

  “Dad!” I hiss, my cheeks red.

  Dad laughs at me and Marissa joins in a little, but her eyes narrow at us when Dad gives me a big hug. “I don’t want to embarrass you, kiddo. Do you want me to hang around or leave? I promised Joe not to cry and act like a helicopter parent.”

  “We’ll take good care of her, Mr. Zelinsky,” Marissa says. “I’ll be heading down to dinner at five if you want to walk together.” Her words are kind, but disingenuous. She gives another charming smile before I can answer and flounces away.

  I exchange a look with Dad, but he just shrugs and helps me finish unpacking.

  ***

  Cassie: I can’t believe how big ur room is. I wish I could do a sleepover. Corn says to text him if u need anything. Lol

  Me: The Poor Peeps and I are going to grab dinner together. Strength in numbers.

  Cassie: Was it just ur dad with u? I thought for sure Joe and Brad would be there.

  Me: I told them not to come. You know how Joe gets. He’d have his dogs here checking everything out.

  Cassie: Yeah, but the vid would be so funny. Promise you’ll text me every night?

  Me: Only if you promise to text me, too.

  Cassie: Remember, we’re survivors. Don’t take any shit from any1. Love u.

  Me: Me2.

  ***

  It doesn’t surprise me when I don’t see Marissa waiting for me around five. I message Zayd and I meet him, Andrew, and Adam in front of House 5. We decide to walk to the dining hall together. Andrew shows me some of the latest pieces he’s thinking of playing. Adam discusses the trails in the area he will use for training.

  Technically, we’re supposed to eat in the dining hall in our uniforms. We are allowed to take some food back to our rooms if we want to eat privately for dinner. The only exception to the uniform policy is move-in day. I’m glad that I’ve got these three to be with since I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Adam is wearing khakis and a polo shirt, but both Andrew and Zayd are in jeans like me.

  When we enter the dining hall, we see that the food is set up like a buffet. I notice right away that we’re dressed quite casually, and we’re the only ones dressed so simply. The girls are wearing dresses and skirts and a lot of the boys are wearing slacks with jackets. A strange hush fills the dining hall when everyone sees us and then a few murmurs breaks the silence.

  I shrug and the other three follow me in grabbing food. We find an empty table and sit down and the whole room goes quiet. Andrew looks around nervously and a shadow falls across me.

  I glance up and see Rhys Forester glaring at me. “And what are you doing, Charity?” he sneers. I guess he has nicknamed me Charity. Dressed in a V-neck sweater and slacks, he casts a shadow over our table.

  “Sitting and eating.” I toss my dark hair back the way Cassie taught me. “What, never seen anyone eat before?”

  “This table is not for you. This is our table,” Rhys tells me through gritted teeth. He’s literally glaring at me like he wants to kick me. I glance behind him and see Damon and Chase coming up to flank him. So, that’s how it is.

  I should be scared. In fact, Adam is clearly nervous. But I’ve dealt with real monsters. Rhys doesn’t scare me. I make a show of looking under the table and the chairs. “That’s so strange,” I say loudly. “I don’t see your names anywhere. Is there a hidden reservation system I don’t know about?”

  “Move,” Damon orders, his dark gray eyes narrowing on my face. He doesn’t raise his voice, but it comes out haughty. “This table belongs to the Student Council and to anyone we invite. We clearly haven’t invited you.”

  “I don’t know, Damon, she seems a little slow,” Chase chimes in. “Maybe she doesn’t understand.”

  “I’m blown by your wittiness,” I snap back. Chase’s eyes widen a fraction, but Damon crosses his arm as he looks down at us.

  Zayd touches my arm. “Let’s just move. I don’t care where we sit.”

  I frown. We’re being bullied and this is outrageous. I open my mouth and see Marissa join the so-called Student Council. “You’re at the wrong table,” she tells me like it is something I’m supposed to know.

  I stand with the three boys. “Fine, we’ll move. Who knew that you would throw a fuss over a table? Seriously, sit at your table if that’s what it takes to make you feel like big men. We wouldn’t want to steal your precious table from you.”

  Rhys grabs my upper arm in a fierce grip, nearly causing me to drop my tray. “Don’t cross us, Charity, or we’ll make life very unpleasant for you.” He’s right in my face, but I’ve learned early on that intimidation only works if you’re scared. There is nothing they could really do to scare me.

  I level my best glare at Rhys, Damon, and Chase.

  “God, you’re more dramatic than the Kardashians.” I pull my arm free and join Zayd at another table. I notice that everyone in the dining hall is staring at us. There’s a nervous twitter. I’ve clearly violated some social rule. It makes me wonder what the hierarchy is like in this school. Has no one ever told them off before?

  I find that I’m not hungry anymore. I grab the apple and nibble on it, noticing that Damon and Rhys are whispering furiously and looking at us. Wow, they have issues about tables.

  “You’re really brave,” Andrew says to me.

  I shrug. Brave? No. “Look, if they’re going to give us shit, we should try to stick together,” I reason. “Let’s plan on meeting up for meals and sitting together.” I raise an eyebrow at them.

  They agree easily. We finish up eating and they walk me back to my dorm. As soon as I get back to my room, I text the details to Cassie.

  Cassie: Seriously? They got mad over a table? Was it covered in gold?

  Me: lmao. Nope. They made it seem like I stole the table from the Queen of England.

  Cassie: Corn wants to know if they’re pissy bullies or real bullies. I think pissy bullies means that they’d go crying to their mommies if u punched them. Not sure. Corn’s kind of ranting here.

  Me: Tell big bro I remember everything he taught me. He can fuss this weekend. Night, bestie!

  I see Brad is waiting for an update, so I’m exchanging messages with Brad when I hear a knock on my door. As soon as I turn the knob, I stumble back because the door is slammed into me. Damon Rossi, Rhys Forester, Chase Creed, and Marissa Creed push into my room.

  Rubbing my sore arm, I back up, my hand sliding into my pocket where I placed the switchblade Corn gave me.

  “It seems as though you don’t understand the rules at Breaker Academy,” Rhys croons, his dark eyes flickering over me.

  Marissa enters my room like she owns it, picking up the picture of me and Cassie. I’m guessing she’s the token female in their bossy group. I see them all checking my room out and noting the sparsity of my accommodations

  “Please put that down,” I say. I make sure to keep my voice level. Brad tells me all the time that situations can escalate if you sound aggressive.

  Marissa’s blue eyes meet mine. It doesn’t matter if she drops it. It’s just a frame, I tell myself. It’s replaceable. But I’m relieved when she puts it down. “Since I’m supposed to help you out, I told the guys we should let this one little incident slide. But you should know… Chase, Damon and Rhys are the Three Kings of Breaker Academy. They rule this school. You don’t cross the kings.”

  I try not to laugh. “Like the Three Kings of Bethlehem? Okay. Super original.”

  Something strange passes over Damon’s face. Between Brad and Cornelius, I’ve learned a lot about reading people, but this leaves me puzzled. My attention is drawn to Rhys, who is wired with so much resentment that he might have an aneurysm.

  Rhys takes a step towards me and I don’t flinch. If he expects those kind of mind games to work, he’s mistaken. “We know why you’re really here, Charity. Tell me, are you just looking for a rich husband or do you think the guys here will pay you to spread your legs? Maybe you’ll tell us how you really managed to get into our school.”

  We’ve literally gone from a table issue to them thinking of themselves as kings to them accusing me of being a whore. “Well, gee, I can’t recall. I’ve slept with over a million guys,” I say sarcastically, putting a finger to my chin like I’m thinking. “I figure one of them must’ve had the pull to get me a scholarship.” I pause. “You are something, Rhys Forester. You’re all pissed because I sat at the wrong table. And if that isn’t enough, you’re now going to accuse me of being a whore. Is there anything else you plan to add to my list of horrible crimes? Murder, genocide, pollution?”

  Damon smirks before his
face settles into a cold mask. “You’ve got gumption, I’ll give you that. As Student Body President, I’ll be generous. You don’t belong here, Charity. This school is for the us, not for trash like you. We’ll give you a week to get your things and go. If you don’t, you may not like how dirty you’ll get here.”

  I’ve never been overly bullied before, but right now this is just verbal abuse. In many ways, I’ve grown up faster than I wanted to, but I’ve also been protected since I was twelve. Corn has made sure that kids know he’s looking out for me. In some neighborhoods, people don’t even look at me or Cassie for fear of getting Cornelius riled up. You really don’t want to piss Corn off. And Brad used to pull over boys who were aggressive in their interest at my previous high school. I don’t abuse that protection and I don’t go crying to either Brad or Corn. Nonetheless, I wonder if I’m biting off more than I can chew. Corn once told me that money twists people. He calls money “the great motivator.” These kids are rich and clearly have more time and money than most of us. They could make life miserable for me here and who knows what they might do to my dad. While I’m used to being somewhat miserable, I want time to focus on my studies. I don’t want to be anticipating their next moves.

  I keep my hand on my knife just in case. “Look, I just want to study and graduate. I’m sorry I didn’t know about your special table.” I wince a little because that sounded sarcastic. “I’ll stay out of your way. I apologize.” This is unlike me. Honestly, I don’t feel like apologizing. The world is filled with real problems that are more important than table privileges and fake titles. But if they’re so pissed about a table, I doubt they would understand that. They probably don’t even know that unleaded gas comes in regular, plus and super.

  “Keep your legs shut,” Marissa snaps. “We don’t want your gross STDs here.” She flounces out. I’m just thrilled we’re on the same floor together.

  I force myself not to react. “Sure,” I say. “Keep my legs closed. Got it. Message received. Will you please go?”

  “We’re not done, Charity,” Damon says, turning. “We want you to keep your legs shut until you leave.” The others follow him out.

  It’s a good thing he felt the need to make a comment and then leave because I was ready with a sassy comeback.

  I lock the door. I slip out a coin and use the trick that Brad taught me that keeps anyone from entering my room even if they manage to unlock my door. I make sure the coin is wedged into the door jamb. Once I’m done securing the room, I curl up next to Officer Bear and try not to let my thoughts overwhelm me.

  CHAPTER 3

  The notorious Candyman has claimed his 10th victim in nearly two years. Known in the media as The Candyman, the serial killer is known to target girls between the ages of twelve and sixteen with dark hair. He rapes and kills them during a full moon, leaving his young victims’ bodies in shallow graves with a single lollipop in their mouth. Authorities have released a general profile. They believe that the Candyman is a white male in his thirties to forties. He is of average height. Police believe his targets are not random and that he tracks their routines. Authorities are asking girls who fit this description to walk in groups and to randomize their routines.

  ***

  The uniforms for students here are color-coded by grades. The colors for freshmen are dark green and white. The sophomores wear navy blue and white. The juniors must wear dark red jackets with everything. But the seniors’ uniform is all black, although you can pair it with a white dress shirt on occasion. It’s truly a depressing color profile. We all look like morticians.

  Most of the girls make it clear that I’m not a welcome addition to the school. They push me around during gym class – yes, the boys and girls have separate gym classes. I get very mature notes telling me that I should leave before I make the school smell.

  Zayd tells me they have it a little better. All three boys are on the same floor in their dorm; I’m a little envious they have each other. While they are very bright, they are not in all of my classes. Zayd and I have chemistry together, Adam shares English with me, and Andrew is in my art class. Nonetheless, I’m grateful they are willing to stick together with me and it makes the school day a little less lonely.

  Although I try to avoid the supposed kings of whatever, it’s hard to do because Damon is in my history class and Rhys is in my English class. Worse still, I see both Rhys and Damon in math class. Breaker Academy must be the only school where the bullies are smart enough to be in your classes.

  I try to make myself unobtrusive, but the girls have gotten the memo that it’s okay to be mean to me. By Friday, I am ready to head home having had words hissed at me left and right. Dad shows up exactly at three. As soon as I’m done with my final class, I race out to the lot. Dad’s driving his trusty old Toyota. It looks out of place among the fancy cars, but to me it feels like home. In the lot, Damon is talking to Chase and Rhys, and he’s leaning against a Porsche. Next to the Porsche is an Aston Martin and a Tesla S. As if they sense me, their eyes search the campus until they find me.

  I’m not shy about giving Dad a huge hug. I’m not a touchy-feely person except with those I trust. After Mom lost custody of me, Dad has been my rock. When my parents divorced, he tried to make the co-parenting thing amicable. He blames himself for not fighting harder, and I’m pretty sure he lets me get away with a lot because of that hidden guilt. He takes my book bag and I deliberately pretend that the three jerks aren’t staring at us as we drive off.

  “Brad and Joe are waiting. I think Joe’s cooking a special dinner for you.”

  I don’t even need to ask. I know that means cheeseburgers and hot dogs because that’s the only thing Joe cooks. When we arrive home, I smell the grill. I see the black Cadillac CTS-V, which means Cassie and Corn are here, too.

  Over the years, I’ve become a surrogate daughter to Joe. I know Brad sees his little sister in me, and I see him like a big brother. I won’t lie – without them, I might have fallen apart completely.

  So, the weird thing is that Brad and Joe are cops. Joe’s the Chief of Police and Brad’s a regular cop. Cornelius, however, is not a cop. His business is not legitimate, and Joe knows it. They have an unspoken truce between them, and I know it’s because of me and Cassie. Corn doesn’t talk business and, if he keeps his guys from doing too much violence and keeps the violence away from citizens, Joe tries to look the other way. Some people might condemn Joe, but without this truce, the city would be awash in blood. It’s a fragile peace built on the strength of Corn’s empire and Corn’s discretion. Despite this unspoken deal between Corn and Joe, they avoid each other as much as possible. Joe must’ve made an exception today – which means that Cornelius and Joe are fussing over me. They’re both worried that I’m not close to home.

  As soon as we pull up, Cassie emerges, her brown skin glowing in the sun. She’s exotically pretty. Marissa Creed is the typical American beauty with her pale hair and skin, but Cassie exudes energy and life. Much to Corn’s chagrin, it attracts attention, too, and he’s not shy about warning boys that he’s a protective brother. Cassie’s wearing a red romper, and she looks fifteen rather than eighteen. Cassie is Cornelius’s youngest sister, and she’s the apple of his eye. But just because Cornelius is the underworld boss doesn’t mean that’s what he wants for his sister. He’s made it clear that Cassie is to keep her hands and head clean. He really wants us to leave this area, but he’s also afraid of not being able to look out for us. I think it’s because I’m so strait-laced that Cornelius values our friendship so much.

  Brad and Dad watch me and Cassie indulgently as we start chattering about everything from school to Cassie’s latest crush. I don’t think anything makes them happier than seeing me and Cassie act like silly girls.

  Brad’s twenty-six. If I didn’t think of him like a brother, I would say he’s hot and say how good he looks in a uniform. Actually, Cassie already says that, and I usually say things like “oh, gross”. He’s thinking of becoming a detective, something I know Joe is rooting for. Before I left for Breaker Academy, I’d been helping Brad study for the test.