Page 5 of Freckles

Despite her smile, I’m instantly wary. As head of the popular clique in our school, the beautiful blonde usually radiates a sunny excitement. But today, the late afternoon shadows of winter darken her blue eyes to black.

She glances over my shoulder, and I follow her gaze to see two girls behind me. Dory and Arabella, her besties.

Dory shifts her arm, and I see the glint of a blade in her hand. A few inches long, wide and curving to a point, her middle finger curls through a hole in the middle for extra control.

My vision sharpens, heartbeat thudding in my ears. The knife isn’t something she grabbed from a kitchen drawer or a garage workbench.

Its sole design is as a weapon.

“Follow us,” Alice says, her voice still sweetly soft. “I need a word.”

Arabella grabs my upper arm, guiding me before I have time to hesitate. I obediently follow, keeping aware of my surroundings, scanning for an opportunity to escape.

The moment my step slows, a hand shoves between my shoulder blades to drive me forward. My sideways glances tell me none of the crowd is paying attention. They’re glued to the on-field argument raging from the latest whistle.

Alice leads me into the shadow of the old science hall. The crumbling brick building, wet with moss where it’s in permanent shade, was replaced long ago and is now used for storage.

“You know who I am?” Alice asks while Dory and Arabella flank me like soldiers.

I nod.

She moves close enough her breath puffs into my face, pungent with stomach acid. “And you knew Ezra was my boyfriend?”

My heart thuds heavily, bright spots swimming across my vision. “N-no.” My throat tightens until I can barely swallow. “No, I didn’t know that. I—”

“And you didn’t think to ask before you yanked down his jeans and sucked him off like the slag you are?”

Not even close to what really happened, but I don’t correct her. My head spins with confusion, wondering why the moron would tell her anything.

Does the boy have a confession kink or something?

As she shoves her face closer to mine, I shake my head, my fear growing by the second.

Alice’s father is a high-end loan shark. A very rich, very powerful man who donned a suit to make everyone think he’s legit while not changing a damn thing about his business practices.

Westlake is packed with the offspring of powerful men, all operating on the wrong side of the law to great profit.

It’s kind of their raison d’être.

If she wants to hurt me, she will. The school guidelines are only for the poorer students like me, reliant on government subsidies. Anything short of killing me, the school will look the other way.

With all the sincerity my trembling voice can muster, I say, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t really cut it.”

Dory presses her blade to the divot at the base of my throat, piercing my skin. A drop of blood wells, then trickles down my collarbone. My bladder loosens.

I yank my elbow into Dory’s stomach, ignoring the cut she scores in my arm as she doubles over. I swing my knuckles up hard against her lips before driving the heel of my palm forward into Alice’s nose.

Turning to the side, I bunch Arabella’s shirt and headbutt her, the force cracking the bridge of her nose, blood streaming.

Alice collars me, tightening her arm until I’m in a chokehold.

I stomp my heel into her toes, twisting free the moment her grip loosens, and following it with a fist to her face, my knuckles screaming when she shifts so they crunch into her hard cheekbone rather than her tender nose.

A backwards kick strikes Dory mid-calf, the impact sending a splintered shard of pain into my hip.

I caught them off guard and got lucky, but it’s still three against one. I lunge to the side and sprint for dear life.

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