Page 14 of The Players

Naomi glanced over at me. Though I hadn’t told her all that happened in the games, she’d been there for a good portion of it. She knew Easton hated me. It seemed she could sense how this new addition to our school community would affect me.

Putting her hand on my arm, she offered me a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry,” she said. “It’s not like they can do anything to you. The game is over.”

I nodded, but the pit in my stomach told me differently.

With Easton Hill, the game was never over.

With all the new information I’d learned and the fresh anxieties I was dealing with, I still had to go to Spanish class. At least Naomi was in class with me. We sat next to each other, avoiding most of the other snobby, rich assholes around us. It didn’t help that Señora Gibson was so old, her grip on classroom management was as weak as a newborn baby’s. But with the two of us, we managed to avoid most of the bullying and stupid immature behavior.

Today, Señora Gibson was showing a Disney movie in Spanish, one of her go-to activities when it was clear she wanted nothing to do with the spoiled spawn of doctors, lawyers, and tech bros. I kept myself busy doing math homework while Naomi texted her boyfriend, a cute guy from the local high school, named Garrison.

With Señora Gibson nearly snoring in her chair up front, I decided to slip my ear bud in and focus on getting these equations done. I was lost in my own world, nearly done solving my first problem when I felt someone tug on my hair.

Whirling around, I saw her.

Savannah. She must’ve walked in after class had started and taken the desk right behind me. I’d been so consumed with math I hadn’t noticed. Now she was here, with her perfectly curled hair and flawless makeup, smirking at me.

“Hi, orphan,” she whispered, giving me a wink. “You didn’t save me a seat. I’m hurt.” She stuck her bottom lip out and flashed puppy dog eyes before breaking out into a nasty smile.

I whirled back around, pretending to be engrossed in this awful kids’ movie while quietly panicking inside. Savannah had been the one to threaten me in the parking lot, and now she was here in my class sitting right behind me. Easton had sent her here to torment me. Was no place safe?

Dammit, this was exactly his plan, wasn’t it? To torture me and the guys until we gave up and agreed to do exactly what he said. He wanted me to join another one of his games which was honestly just his way of manipulating me to debase myself or subject myself to dangers that might lead to my death this time around.

I gripped the table. No, I would not let him or thisSavannah bitchdrive me out of my own class. Shoving the other headphone in my ears, I hunkered over my math and tried to slow the beating of my thundering heart.

Another tug on my hair tried to get my attention, but I ignored it. Then a hard tug. Then a yank so hard my head jerked back. Still, I ignored her.

Naomi’s head had gone up when I’d flinched, and she began shooting me concerned looks. I shook my head and focused my eyes back on the math, even though I hadn’t written a single thing since Savannah had let her presence be known.

Don’t give her the satisfaction.

A few moments passed with no hair tugging. My breath began to steady. Maybe I’d done it. I’d stood up to a bully and ignored her into submission. Girls like that had only a few tricks up their sleeve.

That was what I was starting to believe when a cell phone slid onto my desk, and I saw what was on the screen.

My heart stuttered to a stop. My chest hitched, and I couldn’t draw breath.

The photo on the cellphone screen was a picture of my parents.

Dead.

Murdered.

I blinked as I took in the carnage. The blood splattered around my basement. My mother crumpled like a child’s discarded doll. Her academy skirt flipped up to show one pale leg, her shoe discarded somewhere else. My father was slumped back in a chair, his chest drenched in blood from the gunshot wound that had taken the top half of his head.

Bile rose in my stomach, but another feeling too.

Rage.

I lurched up out of my seat while grabbing for the phone.

“Give it to me,” I said, cutting through the silence of the students and the drone of the movie. “Give me that phone!”

Savannah pulled it to her body before tucking it into the space between her ample breasts. “What are you talking about?”

“Girls?” Señora Gibson said, finally waking up. “¿Qué está pasando aquí?”

I whirled, pointing with a trembling finger. “Savannah has a photo on her phone. One I… One I think the police should see.” I’d forgotten my Spanish. There was no time. I needed to see that photo.

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