Page 53 of Hateful
“Nah. Jasper and Beck had some guys in mind, but they all declined. Something about Beck’s temper.” He shrugs, but he gives me a knowing sideways grin.
I can’t blame those people who turned them down; Beck’s temper is what’s keeping me from jumping headfirst into this, too. Again, I’m struck by the ridiculousness of what I’m doing.
Almost as stricken as the fact thatmultiplestudents dared turn down an invitation from The Brotherhood.
Just like I suspected, maybe they’re losing their iron-clad grip on the school after all.
“And a few of them,” Heath continues, still steering me by the elbow as we push our way outside, “asked why we didn’t just get our bitch to do it.”
My face has never gone from red to white so fast.
These days I’d almost forgotten that I’m The Brotherhood’s bitch. Of course I think about it from time to time, but it doesn’t hold the same power over me as it once did. The only person who ever invokes that anymore is Beck, and even he is less inclined to do it, opting instead for straight up physical abuse. No words needed.
My stomach clenches again. What is he going to do to me?
Beck is bad enough on his own when he hasn’t been taunted into, I don’t know, somehow being worse.
I feel another pang in my stomach, but this time for a different reason.
There was a moment last semester when I thought there was something between me and Beck. Something more than hormone-fueled exploration between what wassupposedlytwo boarding school boys.
But it’s gone now, and just thinking about it … it hurts.
We walk past the bleachers, and there’s Jasper and Beck wearing similar clothes to Heath—tight running shorts, running shoes, muscle tees. Beck wears a beanie that covers his ears. It frames his face and makes his cheekbones look even more severe as he turns and notices us.
Jasper’s face pales while Beck’s reddens. Neither of them move, however. They wait for Heath to pull me over to the start of the track where they stand frozen.
“What the hell is this?” Beck demands, gesturing to me.
“Say hello to our third-leg runner,” Heath replies happily. He squeezes my elbow. He’s still not letting go.
“What the hell, Heath?” Jasper echoes. His eyes dart to my face, then away, to Heath’s.
“He can’t run our third leg,” Beck snaps. “He’s too weak.”
I’m a bit taken aback by his reaction, and I think it shows. Is he really angry because he thinks I’m weak … or is it because he didn’t think to force me to come himself?
Or is it because I wasn’t forced at all.
“He’s actually really fast,” Heath counters. “Want to time him around the curve of the track? Do you rememberyourtime around the curve?” he adds a little savagely to Beck.
Jasper cocks his head to the side with a thoughtful look. “Actually, yeah. Let’s time …him.” He has to stop himself, obviously stumbling over the pronoun. For one second, I feel sick. Exposed. Thankfully, I seem to be the only one who notices. I also seem to be the only one who notices that he’s scowling hard at Heath’s grip on my elbow.
Don’t go getting jealous on me now, Jasper,I think. I’ve seen where Jasper’s jealousy leads.
“Go ahead and get dressed,” Heath says happily. “You remember where the locker rooms are.”
He nods over towards a door in the wall, but I meanwhile just make a gesture down at what I’m wearing.
“I’m already dressed.”
He looks at me doubtfully. I’m in an old pair of Spencer’s track pants from when he was a skinny waif, a baggie hoodie that used to be Caleb’s, and my running shoes … since none of theirs would fit.
Next to these three athletic, muscular guys, I look like a tiny formless lump.
“Okay,” Heath says carefully, but I still shoot him a look. He knows this is what I wear on my runs; why is now so different?
Jasper and Heath set up the boundaries while I stretch my leg muscles. Of course, Beck watches the goings-on with a scowl. I feel his eyes lingering on me. I don’t know why he hates me all of a sudden. Not that it’s too sudden now. It’s been this way for months, ever since I came back from break.
