Page 47 of Web of Lies
I purse my lips, noises of joy coming from inside the dining hall, friends talking to friends with excitement about whatever riles them up these days. Maybe torturing me? Who knows? I shrug, biting into my muffin again.
“And why is that exactly?” I ask, tilting my head again.
“It’s a secret.” Seger grunts back. At least he’s a little more polite since I tutored him.
A wicked smile takes over my face. “I enjoy solving secrets,” I say through my smile, making their bodies stiffen.
“What’re you up to?” Zepp finally asks, gaining his brother’s attention.
Zepp narrows his eyes like I’m a criminal. And maybe I am. Well, not yet anyway. For the last few days, I’ve tracked the boy’s movements and kept their schedule memorized. They’re like clockwork. They go to class, they eat dinner, and then for the rest of the night they beat the shit out of each other on the football field. And other people, they love mowing their opponents down to the ground.
I snort, taking another bite of my muffin. “It’s a secret.” I wiggle my eyebrows and turn to leave.
“Just be careful, New Girl,” Seger says in a soft voice, meaning every word he says.
“You don’t understand who you’re messing with,” Zepp mutters, finishing the sentence.
His tone is unthreatening, more than a warning to me to back off and not do what I’m about to do. But what have I got to lose? I’ve successfully broken into Ainsley’s room before and now… now it’s the boy’s turn. I turn up my music and drown out the entire world once again.
I walk away from the dining hall, watching over my shoulder at every student who passes by. The hate and the hostility ooze off them in waves, crashing into me and nearly knocking me off my feet. If their hate were a tornado, I’d blow away faster than Dorothy. The anxiety builds from the tip of my toes, spreading to the top of my head. I’m buzzing with it, practically vibrating with the anticipation that something bad is going to happen.
I pass my shitty, oh yes, still shitty locker and write it off. They think they’re getting to me by stashing disgusting things in there but jokes on them. I’ll just pretend my locker doesn’t exist like the teachers pretend I don’t. Normally math class would be my dread of the day, but today feels different. I don’t know when the police will act if it’s in class, or at his home, but I want a front-row seat for his utter humiliation. He’s a vile piece of shit. I can only hope the boys in prison treat him well.
I take my usual perch on the window sill and swing my legs. Everyone piles in, ignoring me as usual, and takes their seats. Chase is absent. Again. My heart drops to the floor. What if something happened to him? Where is he? The students murmur amongst themselves, as my mind takes off on a wild tangent. Chase could have fallen ill or got kidnapped or… Stop. No more. He doesn’t care about you. As I come down from my freak out the fat bastard, Mr. Stephans, himself walks in. Sweat cakes his forehead and forms a line on his blue button-down. His eyes cast behind him several times, before setting his briefcase onto his desk.
He greets us, takes attendance, and gets right to work. I grin, remembering what I had set up a few nights ago. Everything will work out, but I will end him and his rule here. Mr. Stephans thinks he’s safe, but he can’t hide anything from me. Let alone the FBI or the local police.
“You seem happy, Little Troll.” My smile breaks into a frown.
“What do you want, Cruel?” I ask, eyeing his body up and down.
If he wasn’t such a cruel boy, he’d catch my eyes. Attractive is an understatement when it comes to him, but then he opens his vile mouth, ruining it all. Such a shame. His eyes inspect his nails, and he shrugs.
“Quite a fucking thing you did to Hadley, huh?” He asks, raising one eyebrow, staring into my eyes. He’s trying to feel me out, trying to detect a hint of a lie. But I shrug and purse my lips.
“Yeah, I saw that. That’s terrible for her. Did you get your dick checked?” I ask with a smirk. His face falls into a scowl, stepping closer to me.
“I wouldn’t touch that fucking bitch with a ten-foot pole,” he sneers at me, inching closer and closer to my face, really invading my personal bubble. I put a hand up, holding it against his warm chest. His heart pounds beneath my palm in a frantic beat, letting me know he’s human and not a monster.
“I would hope not, I heard she has Gonorrhea. You know what that can do to—you know—down there.” I hiss like it hurts, pointing towards his junk.
“You really keep pressing my buttons with your fucking nonsense. You’re almost as bad as my cunt of a stepsister,” he growls, drawing a few of the other student’s eyes towards us, nervously switching between us and the teacher. There’s hope in their eyes, wanting a showdown of some sort between the two of us.
“Golly gosh, Carter, you bloated pan of cupcakes, I sure hope not.” I stare into his eyes, narrowing them.
A smirk pulls at the corner of his lips at my impression, dragging his feet back a step, fingers working the hard curves of his jaw.
“One of these days, Troll, you’ll push the wrong fucking button. Watch yourself, because it’s coming back to bite your annoying ass.” His scowl deepens, eyes narrowing in on me. Like his brain is processing what’s happening. His lips stay silent as he makes his way back to his desk. But his eyes occasionally slip back to me every so often.
My smile slowly fades throughout the class. I knew the authorities wouldn’t act fast, but I hoped they would. Especially with what Mr. Stephans had on his computer, those vile files full of videos no one should have, see or make. Sometimes I wonder what drives people to be so gross. What in their mind makes them how they are? Did he suffer traumas as a child? Well—if that’s the case, then it shouldn’t affect who he is today. He should strive to be a better person and not let his demons get to him.
Mr. Stephans sits at his desk, folding his hands into a prayer. His sweaty forehead touches the edges of his hands, sighing heavily. It’s like the world has fallen on his shoulders and he’s patiently waiting for the consequences. I guess my little note I left tucked away in his files probably has him sweating bullets too. The people pulling the strings here aren’t the only ones who can leave cryptic as fuck text messages.
Ten minutes until the bell rings, I perk up. My eyes stare at the bare, dark wooden door, as a knock rings like a death bell.Pound. Pound. Pound. I look across the sea of students holding my breath. They mutter to one another, as the click of the doorknob turns, and the most beautiful sight greets us all.
A tactical team dressed inVeritasuniforms pour into the room. Their weapons hang from the hips, their fingers at the ready. Their postures stiffen, taking their fighting stances. Apparently, they expect a fight. But who the fuck isVeritas, and why are they dressed like a swat team?
“Steven Stephans, we’re going to have to ask you to step away from your desk, with your hands in the air, and follow us.” The main agent says, pointing his weapon directly at Stephans.
