Page 242 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

Because that’s what friends do.

I won’t thank him. What he did was wrong. Just like what I did was fucking inexcusable. But we keep each other’s secrets like best friends should.

It doesn’t explain why I keep thinking he wants to screw me over.

“You’re right,” I say, nodding slowly. Marcus takes a slow drag of the joint, watching me with unveiled suspicion.

I hold up my hand, palm facing him. “No, seriously, you are. This chick’s gotten into my head.”

The simple truth.

“If she stays in there much longer then no, I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself.”

Marcus nods, hitting the joint again.

“So we stick to our plan,” I say.

“We get rid of her.”

I don’t like the sound of that, so I add, “We’ll turn Lavish Prep into her own personal hell. She’ll be begging her parents to send her back.”

Marcus smiles around the joint and sticks out his hand.

I grab it, squeeze it, shake it.

Then I take the joint from him and lift my eyebrows as my eyes slide to the game controller. “Duo?”

“Yeah, sure.” He grabs the spare controller off the game console and brings it to me.

I watch him as he sits, and can’t help but shake my head in reluctant admiration.

You’d never think, looking at him, that he murdered a girl in cold blood. I guess pushing someone off a bridge isn’t as chilling as stabbing or gunning them down, but still.

“What?” Marcus asks, and I realize I’d been staring. I look away, grab my beer, and chug at it.

“Thinking how I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“We’re on the same team, Briar,” Marcus says slowly. “Always will be.”

Of course we are. I don’t know why the fuck I ever doubted him.

Chapter Eighteen

Indi

I slept much better last night with the baseball bat leaning up against my nightstand. Although, taking into account the nightmare I had, I wish I hadn’t slept at all.

I shoot out of bed just before six, my heart pounding and holding Mom’s necklace in a fist. I’ve taken to sleeping with it. That way, I can almost pretend she’s beside me, her smell encompassing me as I drift off to sleep.

A hard rap to my bedroom door makes me yell out, and I barely manage to drag my sheets over my body before my gran is inside my room. “I heard noises,” she says, her nose twitching.

I shift, and realize my thighs are coated with my own arousal. God, can she smell me? My cheeks glow but I shrug, and try to sound diffident. “Maybe it came from outside.”

“No. It came from here.” Her eyes narrow. “You don’t have a radio in here, do you?”

I shake my head. I’m too fucking tired for snark, and that would just get me into hot water again. Instead, I stare down Marigold until she sniffs and leaves my room. I hold up Mom’snecklace, watching light glimmer from it in rays of blue and white. I’m tempted to wear it under my school clothes, but then I’m sure the smell would wear off too soon. I take it off and put it back in its box, and then hide it in the back of my closet. Then I grab my uniform and dash to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Not wanting to run into my grandmother again, I sneak out the front door while she’s busy in the kitchen, climb carefully into my car, and freewheel the first few yards before turning the ignition.

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