Page 17 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

Now Scotty’s face contorts with shock, too.

“No wonder you’re so— OW!” Tiger rubs a hand over the back of his head where his brother just whacked him. “What was that for?!”

A beleaguered sigh. “Your carelessness.” Then Scotty’s gaze finds mine. “What he means to say is, they like us to have a . . .” He pauses to search for the right words. “A bit more muscle, is all.”

My heart drops to my stomach.

At the look on my face, his eyes widen in alarm. “No— Shit. I didn’t mean anything by that other than that authorities think every Evot should look a certain way. There’s nothing wrong with you—I wasn’t insulting you. I just don’t understand how . . .” He trails off, looking unusually uncertain for what I’ve seen of him so far.

“It’s okay.” My throat bobs with a swallow. “I know. It’s . . .” Furtively, I flick my eyes about the room, glancing over my shoulder as if Aider might be standing right behind me.

He isn’t. But he’s not too far off either.

My neck twists so fast I’m surprised I don’t hear a fatal snap as I race my gaze back to the brothers before he or Troy can catch me staring.

But Scotty and Tiger definitely did.

“That guy again?! Come on, Scotty! Let’s go teach Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum a lesson!”

Scotty stops Tiger from rising all the way from the bench with a hard yank. “No—we didn’t even hear what Alby had to say. Has he done something to cause this?” He directs the question at me with a stern finger pointed at my smoothie.

A wince screws my features up. “Uh . . . no.”

“The other one?”

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I stay silent.

That’s all the answer he needs.

“I loathe bullying, Alby,” he says seriously. “I won’t let him do anything else to you. And we’re here if you need to talk about anything. We know first-hand what an asshole Troy is, so if his friend is anything like him, I know you must’ve been through some shit.”

My nose tingles.

Fuck, I can’t start tearing up in front of them again. If they see how much of a big crybaby I am, they might rethink their decision to befriend me.

Ignoring my spasming chest, I ask, “You knew Troy before this?”

“Yeah,” Tiger answers around a mouthful of eggs, avocado, and toast. My stomach grumbles in response, and I slurp the disgusting greenery of my own breakfast up my straw in attempt to satisfy it. “In first school. He was a little shit—always mocking me for my ADHD.” He shoves more food down his throat. “He even cut some girl’s hair off. Quite a big chunk, too. I must’ve been seven or eight at the time, Scotty ten. Troy was the same age as me. Evil giant,” he mutters the last part before gulping down whatever’s in his cup.

“I’m so sorry,” I say quietly.

“Don’t be. If anything, we should be apologising to you for not strangling the prick when we had the chance. Me and Scotty never had to see him again after first school until now. I’m guessing he went straight to your second school, right?”

I nod my head. “Yeah. But it’s . . .” I hesitate, wondering how bad my punishment will be if word gets around that I’ve been talking shit. But then I decide it doesn’t really matter when Game 1 is on the horizon. “It’s actually Aider—that’s the leaner brunette Troy’s with—who’s done the most damage. In first school, he was my closest friend. We did everything together and shared everything with each other, too. He . . . It was like the moment I got a low Score in our first tests at second school, he turned on me. Spread nasty shit about me and employed Troy as his executioner.” Ashamed, I look down at the glinting onyx floor, blinking away the moisture building in my eyes. “It’s been an ongoing thing ever since.”

It’s quiet for so long, I’m afraid I’ve scared the brothers away. But when I look back up, I’m met with two matching solemn expressions, and Tiger has no sparkles dancing about in his cerulean eyes.

“And how old are you?” Scotty asks seriously.

“Nineteen.”

His brows lower, expression like thunder. “He’s been bullying you for eight fucking years?”

“We should kill him. In Game 1.”

I blink at Tiger in surprise. I don’t know why I didn’t expect that from him. Maybe it’s the graveness of his normally chipper tone that’s thrown me off.

“He’s an Evot,” Scotty points out.