Page 19 of Dare To Break

What are the chances I’ll even run into him outside the classes we share? I’ll stay in my new bubble and keep out of his way.

Jace grins at me. “So, do you know any virgins, Arabella?”

Lacy pulls a face. “Oh my god! Shut up and leave her alone.”

“What? I’m trying to save her life here.”

“You mean get in her panties,” Evan snickers.

“Come on, Arabella, I’ll finish showing you around.” Untangling herself from her boyfriend’s arms, Lacy grabs my hand and tugs me away from them.

I wait until we’re out in the hallway before asking her the question burning on my tongue. “Why didn’t you tell them about my connection to Eli?”

My new roommate shrugs. “Gossip is like wildfire in this place, and the longer no one knows about your connection, the better. It will give you a chance to be seen for yourself, and not as the Stepsister of the Monster of Churchill Bradley Academy.”

Chapter 12

Eli

I lean back on the seat and prop my feet up on the table, not even pretending I’m not watching her. She’s sitting with her back to me, but every so often her head turns just enough to see where I am.

She disappeared out of the cafeteria earlier with Lacy Truman—the always-smiling popular girlfriend of Brad Shaw, dimwitted jock—presumably to finish her tour of the grounds, but was back within thirty minutes to grab lunch before we all had to troop into the assembly hall for the yearly welcome back speech from the principal.

“You know they’re all talking about you, don’t you?” Kellan says in a low tone beside me.

I don’t remove my gaze from Arabella’s back. “Of course, I do.”

It’s what they’ve always done. I can’t recall a time when they didn’t talk about me, whisper behind my back, and avoid attracting my attention. Even before my mom died, I’d been the outsider, the oddity. The difference was after her death, I stopped giving a fuck. They’ve all forgotten the Eli Travers who came before. The one who had two happy parents. The one who was a misfit because he struggled to connect with people. All they know is the Eli Travers who came after. The one who no longer cared to try and fit in, who didn’t give a single fuck about social niceties. The one who would happily watch the entire world fucking burn just to feel the heat from the flames.

Across the room, Lacy laughs and places a hand on Arabella’s arm. I shove to my feet, reach down for my bag, and set off toward the door, taking care to hit my new stepsister in the shoulder with my bag as I pass.

“Fucking rude,” Brad mutters and I stop.

The entire cafeteria holds its breath as I turn to face the football captain. I lift an eyebrow. “Got something to say?”

The jock blanches but holds my gaze. “Just saying it was rude to knock into her like that without an apology.”

“It’s okay.” Arabella’s voice trembles and my eyes shift to her.

My lip curls up at one corner. “Why the fuck would I apologize when I’m not fucking sorry?”

“Because it’s good manners.”

I cock my head and return my attention to Brad. “Did someone grow a pair of balls over the summer?”

He shifts on his seat, eyes dropping briefly before lifting again to meet mine. “I’m just saying …”

My smile widens. So do his eyes. “It’s the first day of a new school year. Is this really how you want it to begin? Think carefully and get back to me.”

I turn and walk out. Kellan catches up to me just as I’m running a finger along the wooden paneling in the boys’ restroom. I ignore him until I hear the soft click and the panel slides open. I duck down and climb inside. He follows me, pushing the hidden door back into place. The secret tunnel is too low to be able to stand up straight, and we crouch down to move along it until we reach a corner where it widens out. Kellan moves up so he’s beside me and we continue in silence until we reach the end. I step back and let him find the hidden latch. He sits and drops through the gap. I toss my bag through and then land beside him and straighten.

The secret passage comes out on the edge of the old cemetery. The school’s main building used to be a large manor, built by an English Lord when he immigrated over one hundred years ago. At some point, it had become too expensive to maintain by his descendants, who ran out of money and sold it off. Twenty years ago, it was turned into a school—Churchill Bradley Academy, named after Lord Churchill Bradley, himself.

The place is full of secret tunnels. I’m not sure how many people know about them, but I have never seen evidence of anyone else using them.

“We have to be back in thirty minutes,” Kellan says, brushing a hand over his thigh.

“I want to go to the tomb first and make sure nothing has been touched.”

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