Page 122 of Cruel Legacy

Thea

My backpack sprouted legs while I was in class. My gym locker was jimmied open, and filing a police report was just as effective this time as it was when I went in about my car.

The cops on this campus are a waste of fucking resources. The officer tried to make is seem like I lost my bag, forgot my combo and ripped the locker open on my own.

I spent the last hour at the residence hall administration building waiting for them to issue me a new key fob, since mine was in my bag.

I drag myself off the elevator on my floor, coming to a stop in front of my door. Somebody’s been here. The clear tape I keep on the door is no longer laying flush against it. I push into my room, knowing I’m about to see some shit to set me off.

The destruction is worse than I imagined. The floor is littered with pages from my textbooks, broken dishes, and my snacks are floating in the sink.

I move to my bedroom, where things only get worse. My clothes are in tatters all over the place. In the bathroom, I find the tub filled with hair dye and my shoes soaking in the solution. My empty backpack is discarded on top of my shredded comforter.

And just in case I have any question about who did this, my phone chimes with a video of Eloise and the Zeta Nu pledges playing in my room. I ignore the video and get to cleaning up the mess.

I missed two days of classes trying to put my room put back together, and received a warning from the RA about the excessive bags of trash I hauled down to the dumpster. I’m walking across The Circle when Eloise comes up to me and says, “I’m surprised you’re still showing your face around here.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’ve been wearing the same clothes for three days.”

She turns her nose up as if I smell. I don’t. I am wearing the same clothes, but I’ve washed them every night. This isn’t the first time I’ve only had one decent outfit to wear.

“I am?” I look down at myself like I hadn’t realized. “Shit, I guess I am.”

I know what this is all about. This is her retaliation for fucking with her leadership position in the house. There’s a crowd gathered around, as if she sent out an invitation to watch our interaction.

I seethemstanding apart from the crowd. The Triums. They say they run the dorms, so this has their names written all over it. It’s laughable. They couldn’t break me with messing with my accounts, so now they’ve moved onto my personal belongings.

They’re all watching me. Waiting for me to crumble and cry because the clothes Moira bought are ruined. Jokes on them. I’ve lived without fancy shit all my life. It’s no big deal to me that they’re destroyed now, except for the absolute waste of money.

This must be the things the girls they deal with care about, so they thought it would apply to me too.

Eloise steps closer. “Whatever will you do, now that you can’t dress like you come from money? Now that everyone will see you in the tatters you were born to wear?”

I throw my head back and laugh. Then laugh even harder as the sneer slips from her face when I step closer. “You think you’re intimidating me? Walking around here calling out my clothes with your nose in the air like you’re some kind of queen? Bitch please, you’re just The Trium’s pawn. Doing whatever they say, because they’re a bunch of pussies, too afraid to get their hands dirty. Well, I’ve got a message for them. Tell them if they wanna break me, they’ll have to try harder than this.”

I shove past her to make my way to The Rock.

“You look like her in that outfit, you know.”

I pause and turn to ask, “Like who?” She’s staring down at a picture. I know exactly which one it is. I watch as if in slow motion as Eloise rips it down the middle.

I don’t even remember the day it was taken, but my mom’s in it. She’s smiling, and she looks happy. It’s also the only photo I have of her. It’s the only way to hold on to any sort of memory of her being someone other than the alcoholic I remember.

My vision turns red, as the sound rents the air, and I feel myself lose control. I launch at her, determined to do more than smack her this time. She’s going to get every single punch I held back at the sorority house.

A set of arms band around my waist, catching me mid leap, and hauls me back against a strong, muscular chest. I struggle against the person holding me. I reach my arms up, searching for their eyes. A forearm locks around my throat.

A familiar voice breathes against my ear, “Attempting to attack a faculty member is a serious offense, LaReaux.”

Coach Wolfe’s still holding me when he barks out, “You all have thirty-seconds to disperse or I’ll be writing you up.”

“For what?” Someone yells.

“I don’t know yet. But whatever it is will be creative and expensive.”

Eloise walks off smiling like she’s won something. She hasn’t. Wolfe’s interference has only delayed the inevitable. He’s on to something, though. I’ll have to come up with a creative punishment.

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