Page 377 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

“Seat belt,” I mutter.

She bites her lip and eases her backpack to the floor between her feet.

“Next time you want to get off before school, wake up earlier.”

“Fuck off, perve.”

I chuckle at the dark look she gives me before she starts prepping herself. I watch her progress from the corner of my eye, a sour grimace carved onto my mouth. She’s silent the entire ride except for the occasional rustle of clothes or huff of breath as she puts on her shoes, re-buttons her shirt, drags her wet hair away from her neck, and subdues it into a ragged ball on the top of her head.

I expect makeup to appear next, but either she forgot it at home, or she’s decided not to risk taking out an eye as I race us to school.

Christ, I can’t stop thinking about what I saw back there. It’s all kinds of wrong, but at that moment, she wasn’t my stepsister. She was just a good-looking girl getting off in the shower. It’s the kind of thing wet dreams are made of.

Minutes from school, my curiosity gets the better of me. “So how often do you rub one off?”

She freezes in the act of rummaging through her backpack. Hopefully still looking for her makeup. “Mind your own business.”

“Because it kinda looked like you knew what you were doing.” We stop at an intersection, and I lean to the side without looking at her, taking a loud sniff from the air. “And you fucking reek.”

“Fuck you,” she mumbles.

Through some small miracle, we arrive at school seconds before the homeroom bell.

Harper’s got her backpack in her lap, ready to go, but starts fumbling with the seatbelt, trying to get it to unlock.

“Didn’t have those in the trailer park you come from?” I ask quietly.

She lets out a frustrated growl and turns her face away when I lean back inside the car, grab her buckle, and unlock it. She smooths back a hank of hair that’s escaped the messy prison on top of her head.

I open her door in case she starts fumbling with that too. But before she can climb out I grab the roof of the car with one hand and lean in close, forcing her to make eye contact. “I’ve got practice till three. You’ll have to keep yourself busy until then.” When she says nothing, I grin at her. “That shouldn’t be a problem for you though, right?”

Crimson stains her cheeks, and her blue eyes widen. “Lay off already, would you?”

I pat her cheek. “See you later,Sis.”

Chapter 4

Harper

My first day at school goes as well as expected. My homeroom teacher calls me “Harpy” Dearth, which I just know is going to stick like shit on Velcro. I get lost on my way to my first class and piss off my science teacher, Mr. Monroe. But no day is complete without a little trauma, like spilling a cup of coffee all over my brand-new white school shirt, turning it transparent so everyone can see the black bra Istupidlydecided to wear.

So while I’d promised myself when I arrived at Dearth Manor and saw my gorgeous new house and my perfect new family that I was going to change, that I wasalreadya new person…

I guess I wasn’t ready to turn over a new leaf just yet.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Wine slops over my hand as I jerk in surprise. I’m in the manor’s pool house. I had to wait around until Jude had finished football practice, and we’ve been home like ten minutes. I didn’t figure he’dalreadybe fucking stalking me.

I don’t turn to the door. “Leave me alone, Jude.”

Suddenly there’s a hand around my wrist, Jude’s fingers sinking deep into my flesh. I manage to suppress a gasp, but that does nothing to minimize the pain.

“The bar’s off-limits,” Jude says.

“You’re not my father.”

“Neither is Wayne.” Jude’s eyes are the color of tar. “That hasn’t stopped you from calling him ‘Dad.’”

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