Page 29 of Outcast

Blake jogged up the hill and caught up with his friends, giving me the peace to walk up with Rita. She told me that she’d befriended an upper sixth year from the other house whose brother had gained a music scholarship for Oxford. I smiled, enjoying her company. It was rare for her to talk about herself.

After a brief lunch of store-bought sandwiches and bottled water, we set off again for the longest part of the hike. By the time we reached the campsite, the sun had dipped below the horizon and the scent of barbecued burgers lingered in the breeze. Bingham, our instructor, pointed out the kitchen, the toilet blocks, and the women’s and men’s shower blocks. Then he gestured at a huge space by a grove of oak trees and told us to set up our tents.

Rita and I managed to set up our groundsheet. We struggled so much with the tent, I became overheated and had to take off my waterproof jacket. Eventually, Blake took pity on us and set up our tent. I kept my eyes on each step on the printed-out instructions, making sure he didn’t make a half-hearted attempt that would blow out in the wind. He didn’t.

After hammering the last peg, he stepped back and grinned. “What do you think?”

“It looks great.” I smiled, ignoring the twinges of guilt in my gut from having ignored him on the climb up. “Thanks.”

“You know…” He sidled up to me. “Edward and Henry are sharing, and I’m all alone. You can have first dibs on warming me up tonight.”

“Thanks,” I said, voice flat and robotic. The long trek up the hill had sapped my energy, and I couldn’t even get mildly excited about his indecent proposal. “I’ll consider your tempting offer.”

His grin widened, and he walked toward the barbecue. “Sleep with me tonight. You might not regret it.”

I shook my head. The last place I wanted to end up was Blake’s tent. The guy might be hot, but I couldn’t trust him not to double-cross me in the middle of the night and let his friends do something nefarious to my sleeping body. Rita and I walked over to the barbecue and ate our burgers at one of the tables and chairs set up around the outdoor kitchen. A few feet away, Charlotte made a fool of herself flirting with an increasingly irritated Henry. The poor, deluded girl was so blinded by desperation, she couldn’t pick up on even the most obvious of cues.

After dinner, all traces of sunlight had disappeared, leaving about six stone fire pits around the dining area for illumination. A cool breeze blew through the campsite, and Rita huddled close for warmth. Bingham and the instructors handed out steaming mugs of cocoa that tasted like melted chocolate with a dash of liqueur. Everyone, including Rita and me, hummed with appreciation at the rich, sweet beverages. Bingham set up a projector and a huge, outdoor screen, then announced the subject of the motivational movie. Himself.

I leaned into Rita. “This guy’s got an ego the size of the Peak District.”

She dipped her head and giggled into her cocoa.

His assistants walked around with huge, insulated carafes of cocoa, refilling our mugs. I sniffed at mine. “This tastes stronger than the previous version.”

“They might be getting us drunk enough to endure his film,” she whispered.

Since everyone was drinking the same thing, I took a few sips, enjoying its creamy, chocolatey goodness. The shot of alcohol gave it a kick that stopped the drink from becoming cloying.

A younger version of Bingham, clad in cut-off cargo pants, walked onto the screen, making everyone cheer. I couldn’t hear whatever he talked about because of the hooting at his hairy shins and eighties-style haircut. Maybe it was the influence of the spiked cocoa, but I also giggled into my mug.

Then the video stopped, and a close up of Charlotte fellating Blake filled the screen. My stomach dropped, along with the contents of my mug. How many times had she done this with Blake, and why had she let him record it?

The hooting stopped, replaced by shocked silence. Everyone, including Rita and me, fixed our gazes on the mesmerizing sight of Charlotte’s enthusiastic work on Blake’s member. I shook my head. Who could have broadcasted this?

“You fucking bitch!” Charlotte sprinted out of the darkness and threw the contents of her mug in my face.

Hot cocoa scalded my skin, causing me to catch my breath in a loud gasp. Some of it seeped into my eyes, making me rear back and fall off my camp chair.

Before I could tell her the video wasn’t my doing, a heavy boot landed in my diaphragm, causing the muscles around my ribs to spasm. All the air escaped my lungs in a rush, and when I inhaled, it got stuck at the bottom of my windpipe. My lungs wheezed out even more air, leaving me struggling. She kicked me again, this time, her boot landing in my gut. I cried out and curled into a ball.

“How dare you!” she booted me in the side of the stomach.

Her first strike had been so devastating, I couldn’t even roll away or muster up the lung capacity to tell her it wasn’t me. Before she could do any more damage, someone dragged her off.

Rita pulled me to my feet. “Are you alright?”

I doubled over, gasping for air with rapidly cooling chocolate dripping from my face. Before I could answer, Mrs. Jenkins, the house matron, whisked me to the bathroom block, muttering about the folly of broadcasting a young lady’s indiscretion. She washed the chocolate off my face, made me take several sips of water, and walked me to my tent, telling me to go to bed and wait to until the morning for my punishment.

Trembling so hard I could barely function, I climbed into the sleeping bag, boots on, and lay on my side still reeling from the shock of having my phone stolen and from Charlotte’s brutal attack. My head spun. My mind went around in circles. Who could possibly have done this? The only people I was certain could be innocent were Rita, because she wouldn’t do such a terrible thing, and Charlotte, due to her fury at the video. Whoever it was had stolen my phone to make it look like I was the culprit because it was no longer in my pocket. Thoughts and suspicions swirled within my brain until exhaustion and alcohol dragged me into slumber.

* * *

I awoke to the sun shining through my eyelids and the sound and feel of hot breaths in my ear. When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in my tent, and a sheep was chewing at my hair. I raised my hands to shove the beast away, but they were duct taped at the elbows and wrists.

Chapter 10

I shrieked and yanked my head away, but the sheep kept my hair in its teeth and jerked toward me. My heart pounded to the beat of a war drum. What had they done? Covered me in sheep pellets? Another sheep, this one with long, floppy ears, nibbled at my feet. I shoved the animal away, making it bolt. The one at my hair bleated and continued chewing. Its hot breath heated the side of my face, filling my nostrils with the musky scent of grass and lanolin.