Page 18 of Vicious Intentions
“Now, quit looking at me with those googly eyes and get dressed. It’s a big day for you.” She laughs before turning toward the closet and pulling out her usual black ensemble.
I do as she says, slipping into my school uniform.
Today is a good day, and not just because Raffaele texted me. It’s the last day of school.
Eighth year has been especially hard. Cliques formed early in junior high. Tight, cruel little circles I was deliberately kept out of. Not that I had any interest in being part of something so exclusive and antagonizing. I do what I always do. I keep my head down and stay out of everyone’s way.
Somehow, my refusal to conform only makes me more of a target in their eyes. They tease me, bully me, whisper hateful things when they think the nuns aren’t looking. And I take it. I take it all in stride without so much as a word of complaint.
Sometimes, that only makes it worse. They see my unwillingness to react as weakness, when in fact it’s a small mercy I’m giving them. Because in doing so, no one will ever know the hell I’ve endured these past two years at school. And when I say no one, I mean my family. Especially my siblings.
Well, not so much the twins. Lucky and Enzo don’t scare me. If the twins ever found out, they’d probably plan some elaborate prank meant to humiliate my bullies.
But Stella? With her fondness for daggers, I don’t even want to imagine what she’d do to anyone she thought was harassing me.
And then there’s Marcello. He’d burn Sacred Heart to the ground if he so much as suspected someone had touched a hair on my head.
No. I can’t risk that.
I might not be as strong or as clever as my siblings, but I’ve learned how to bite my tongue. How to keep the peace. How to protect my brothers and my sister at all times, even if that means protecting them from themselves.
Most days, I spend my time counting the hours until I can leave school. Today, at least, there’s an end in sight. Just one more day. I can handle one more day. Then I’ll have the whole summer to recover. And then high school.
The twins will be seniors when I enroll as a freshman, which means I’ll have at least a year of grace before my torment begins again. No one will dare hurt me while they roam the halls. Once they graduate, though, it’s anyone’s guess.
Just one more day. You can handle one more day.
I repeat the mantra in a loop as the hours pass. And when nothing remarkable happens all morning, I almost believe I’ll finish the year on a high note. But hope is a dangerous thing to have. It blinds you to the dangers lurking around the corner.
My last class before lunch is P.E., and though I’m not athletic by any stretch, I manage well enough. When no balls are thrown at my head and no slurs are aimed in my direction, I almost enjoy myself.
Does this count as fun?I wonder, already imagining telling Raffaele how I managed to spike a volleyball over the net, win a point, and actually get congratulated for the effort.
When I return to the locker room to shower and change, I realize my day is far from over. Four girls from my class are standing by my locker. My open locker.
Blaire Kensington is the one holding Raffaele’s phone, twirling it between her fingers as if it belongs to her. Veronica Hale, Camille Prescott, and Madeline Sinclair flank her, watching me with matching smiles.
“That isn’t yours,” I say, panic seeping into my voice.
“Who says?” Blaire laughs, tossing it over to her friend.
“It’s locked,” Veronica complains when she tries to access it.
“Give it here,” Camille snarls, shoving the phone in my face, hoping it’ll scan me. When it doesn’t, she scowls.
“The bitch must’ve password-protected it,” Camille mutters in disappointment, throwing the phone back to Blaire.
“Give that back,” I demand, though the words sound weak even to my own ears.
“Unlock it,” Blaire orders, her low, growled demand far more forceful than mine.
Blaire has always been the ringleader of their clique. She’s the kind of girl who never raises her voice because she never has to. Her cruelty is clean and deliberate. She spreads rumors the way other people breathe, and somehow, they always stick.
Beside her stands Veronica, tall and willowy, with a sharp mouth and sharper nails. She’s the one who whispers insults just loud enough for me to hear, then smiles sweetly when the nuns look her way.
Camille, the brunette beauty, bounces on the balls of her feet, bored and restless. She’s impulsive, reckless, and always the one who likes to escalate things just to see what will happen.
And finally, there’s Madeline, always lingering half a step behind the others. She never starts anything, but she laughs the loudest. I’m not sure why, but her silence has always hurt the most.
