HATE CRUSH Page 7

  “She’s almost eighteen,” I argue, and I know how it probably sounds. “She should know better. If I hadn’t shown up, it could have been an entirely different outcome.”

  My chest heaves as I pace the length of my floor, unable to hide my frustration. Jennifer studies me and her eyes soften. “We’ve never really talked about it, Sebastian… but you do know what happened to Katie wasn’t your fault, right?”

  Her observation stops me in my tracks. “This has nothing to do with Katie.”

  “Really?” she challenges. “Because it looks like it has a lot to do with Katie. Why are you even here? Why are you teaching at some boarding school in the middle of nowhere?”

  I release a breath and shake my head. “It’s only temporary.”

  “You think you can make up for what happened to her by following her dream, but it’s obvious to everyone you aren’t happy.”

  “Everyone who?” My voice darkens.

  Jennifer looks at the floor to avoid my arctic gaze. “Your father is worried about you.”

  A dry laugh erupts from my throat. “He’s worried about someone other than himself? That would be a first. I think the more appropriate line is he’s worried about the company.”

  Jennifer sighs. “At some point, you’ll have to deal with this, Sebastian. You can’t put it off forever.”

  “At some point, I will.” I turn my attention back to Stella. “Right now, I need your help, not your therapy. What can we do for her?”

  “At this stage, I’m just keeping track of her vitals. When she starts to wake and consents to a drug test, I can give her one. But being that it’s most likely benzos, we’ll need to wait for them to eliminate from her system. She’ll have one hell of a raging hangover tomorrow, but she should be just fine.”

  That answer isn’t good enough for me. Stella isn’t fine. She shouldn’t be lying here in my living room. She shouldn’t have put herself in this position, and when she wakes up, she’s going to hear about it. But for right now, I have somewhere else I need to be.

  “Can you stay with her for an hour?” I ask. “I have something I need to do.”

  “Sure.” She shrugs. “I’m not going anywhere. But whatever you’re about to do, be careful, okay?”

  Her warning barely registers as I wind my way across campus to the small cottage where the janitor resides. The janitor, who also happens to be the headmaster’s son, Charles. After banging on his door for the third time, he opens it, and a cloud of smoke filters out into the evening air.

  “Yo, Mr. C.” He grins at me in a haze. “What’s going on?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?” I wrap my fingers around his throat and shove him inside.

  “What the fuck, man?” He makes a half-assed attempt to pry me off before I land a solid punch to his gut. He doubles over in a coughing fit, and I grab him by the collar and lean down into his face, ready to destroy him.

  “Which of my students bought the benzos from you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he spits.

  I pummel his rib cage with three more blows before he curls up into the fetal position and starts to whine like the little bitch he is.

  “All right, man. Chill. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  “I told you what I want to know,” I growl. “Who the fuck bought the benzos from you?”

  “Ethan Dupree. He bought some Xannies. That’s it, I swear.”

  “And then he used them to drug another student.”

  Charles looks up at me with a panicked expression. “I didn’t know, man. I swear. I’d never sell them to him if I knew he was gonna do that.”

  “You’ll never sell them again, period. You’re done here. No more drugs, no more alcohol. Do we have an understanding?”

  “Man, I’m done with Xanax, okay? I won’t sell it no more.”

  “You’re done with all of it,” I say. “Or I’ll go straight above mommy dearest’s head and have your ass carted to prison. Not one more fucking pill, Charles.”

  He glances at my phone, and his body sinks into the floor as it occurs to him that I’m recording this on audio. While Charles is generally harmless, he will also do anything to make a buck. I let it slide before because it didn’t affect me, but those days are over, and now he knows it.

  “All right.” He holds up his hands. “I’m done. I swear it. I’ll only do my business elsewhere. No students.”

  I release him and stuff my phone back into my pocket. Now that I’m satisfied Charles has been dealt with, I have one more stop to make.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  STELLA

  AFTER WAKING up feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck, the woman who introduced herself as Dr. Jen takes it upon herself to explain what happened. Though my memory is spotty, I’m able to remember bits and pieces of the night before. The party at the pond. Truth or dare. Taking off my clothes. Feeling like I was weighed down. Ethan.

  Oh God.

  The thought of him makes me want to vomit, but Dr. Jen just made me a nice breakfast, and I’m trying to keep it down.

  “You’re probably going to feel like hell for the day,” she says. “That’s pretty typical. But I’m here if you need to talk. Anything you say to me is confidential, of course.”

  “I’m okay,” I insist, and really, I am. What happened was scary, but if Sybil and Micah hadn’t pulled me from that pond, it could have been a lot worse. It was just plain stupidity on my part, and I realize that now. “I think I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “You haven’t even come close.” Sebastian’s voice comes from behind me, and when I turn to meet his eyes, a shiver moves down my spine.

  “Sebastian,” Dr. Jen chides.

  Ignoring her, he pins me with his gaze. His entire body is rigid, and he looks pissed as hell. I know I fucked up, and I expected him to be mad, but this is something else entirely.

  “You put yourself at risk last night,” he bites out. “You didn’t even consider the consequences.”

  “I know.” I bow my head. “I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

  “To be disappointed in you, I’d have to be invested in you,” he answers coldly. My heart drops into my stomach, and now I really feel like I’m going to be sick.

  “Sebastian, a word in the other room please?” Dr. Jen taps him on the arm.

  His gaze doesn’t move from mine. Not until he’s got his point across. I fucked up, and now he hates me for it. Tears spring to my eyes as he walks into the other room with Dr. Jen, and they argue in hushed voices.

  I take the opportunity to gather the clothes that Dr. Jen brought me and slip into the bathroom. Sebastian Carter’s bathroom. I realize it when I shut the door, even though I knew I was in his house when I woke up. Now the scent that lingers in this space is undeniable. Cardamom and sandalwood.

  My curiosity gets the best of me, and I start rifling through all his things. In the hamper, I find a damp tee shirt that smells like him, and if I had to guess, he was probably wearing it on his late-night run. Without giving it too much thought, I roll it up to take with me. Then I open his cabinet, seeking out the source of the delicious smell. When I find the dark bottle of cologne, I spray a little on my wrist and then bring it to my nose, closing my eyes as I inhale. Why I find his scent so oddly comforting when the man himself is anything but, I’ll never know. To make matters even worse, I spray it onto my chest and my neck too.

  When I reach to put it back, something else catches my attention. A woman’s necklace. The chain is faded, and it looks like it was a well-worn piece at some point. I recognize the symbol from a yoga class I took with Sybil. The Om symbol. It seems odd to me that this would be sitting in Sebastian’s cabinet, and I can’t stop myself from picking it up to examine it. Who does this belong to? And more importantly, who is she to Sebastian?

  A knock on the door startles me, and I quickly shove the necklace back into the cabinet, attempting to cleanse the guilty expression from my face even though they can’t see me.

  “Yes?”

  “We need to get you back to your dorm,” Sebastian says.

  “Okay, I’m just changing. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Quickly, I throw on the sweatpants and tee shirt and smooth out the tangles in my hair, briefly pausing in horror at my reflection. I look like death warmed over. Mr. Carter saw me like this, and now I officially can’t deal.

  God, this whole situation has been so humiliating. But if I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I’m proven wrong. Sebastian apparently chose to dismiss himself from the situation, and at his request, Dr. Jen walks me back across campus. The sun is out, and it’s the middle of the afternoon on Saturday, and the campus is full of students. Students who all seem to have their attention on me. I smooth my hair back and keep my head down, trying to walk faster.

  “Ignore them,” Dr. Jen says.

  “Does the school know what happened?” I ask.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” she answers. “Officially, you were signed out by your aunt yesterday. AKA me. Sebastian didn’t want you to get into trouble.”

  I give her a funny look, and she must notice.

  “I know he comes off as harsh, but he has his reasons. Just don’t take anything he says too seriously, okay?”

  I want to ask her more about it, but before I can think of anything else to say, we’re back at my dorm. “Thank you so much for your help. I’m so sorry if I inconvenienced you.”

  “You didn’t.” She smiles, offering me a card with her phone number on it. “And I’m still available, if you do decide you need to speak with someone.”

  “Thanks.” I shove the card into my pocket, and we say our goodbyes before I disappear into Lawrence Hall.

  I can’t even make it past the
common room before Louisa and her lion pack push their way into my path.

  “Oh, look everyone, it’s the resident slut.” Louisa sneers.

  “You’re overexposed, Louisa,” I respond flatly. “It’s not a good look for you.”

  Amusement washes over her face, and both the girls at her side start laughing too. “Last I checked, I’m not the one splashed half naked all over the LA Underground app.”

  I don’t know what she’s talking about, but I have a feeling I’m not going to like it. She knows I’m at a disadvantage, and she’s getting off on it. But before she can give me any more trouble, Sybil appears, pushing them aside as she pulls me down the hall into her room.

  “Oh my God, Stella.” Tears well in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. You must think I’m such a horrible friend. Are you okay?”

  “It’s not your fault,” I assure her. “I shouldn’t have taken a drink from anyone. I shouldn’t have even gone.”

  A tear splashes against her cheek, and I feel awful that she feels so awful.

  “I was so worried about you,” she gulps out. “Please tell me you’re okay.”

  “I’m okay.” I sit down on her bed. “What is Louisa talking about, though?”

  Sybil worries her lip between her teeth and sits down beside me. “Okay, well the first thing I think you should know is that Ethan was expelled last night.”

  “He was?” Some of the tension bleeds from my body as I consider the fact that I won’t have to see him again.

  “Yeah, they did an afterhours search of his room based on a tip. No idea where it came from, but they found a bunch of Xanax and alcohol in there, so they expelled him.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah, and then he had a meltdown,” Sybil continues. “Loyola has a private social media app made by one of the students. Ethan went on there and posted pics of you in your bra and underwear last night, along with some snaps of him kissing you.”

  “Oh my God.” My stomach drops, and I jump up. “Are they still on there?”

  “No.” She shakes her head quickly. “They went live this morning at like nine o clock, and within ten minutes, his account was removed from the app. Then another hour later, the entire app was gone. It was crazy. Someone in the staff must have seen. That’s the only thing I can think of.”

  I hang my head in my hands and resist the urge to cry. I have a feeling I know exactly who saw them and exactly how they were removed. The same man who took care of me last night. The same man who got Ethan expelled. And the same man who now hates my guts.

  “This is insane,” I whisper.

  “I’m so sorry.” Sybil pulls me in for a hug. “But the good news is the photos are down.”

  “And the bad news is everyone saw them, and now they’re calling me a slut.”

  “That’s just Louisa and her gang of bitches,” Sybil argues. “But I think you’d be surprised. Everyone knows how slimy Ethan can be, and there were a lot of people calling him out on the app before those photos got deleted. People defended you.”

  “This is just so embarrassing,” I whisper.

  “I know.” She frowns. “But I think the only thing you can do at this point is own it. Who cares what anyone else thinks? You are Stella fucking LeClaire. Rockstar photographer. Badass bitch. You are gorgeous and smart and funny, and people will want to take you down. But don’t let them, Cherrybomb. You’re better than that.”

  I collapse back onto her bed and consider her words, knowing she’s right. I can’t let them win. And I won’t.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  STELLA

  SYBIL and I skip lunch on Tuesday to work on our cheer moves, like she promised. Practice is all week, and then we have tryouts. It’s not really what I want to do, but it’s keeping my mind off everything else, so that’s something. We spend the entirety of the hour breaking down the dance moves and repeating them while stuffing our faces full of gummy bears to survive.

  “You’re going to do great,” Sybil insists. “It will be fun. You’ll see.”

  Secretly, I’m hoping I don’t even get onto the cheer squad. Honestly, I have no idea what I’m doing anymore. I just don’t want to disappoint Sybil. I don’t want to disappoint anybody, but it seems like that’s all I’ve been doing lately. And more than a few times this last week, I’ve wondered why I even bother. My parents still haven’t returned my calls. It’s not like they would even care or expect any different of me if I didn’t succeed here. But still, my dad’s words continue to haunt me.

  I’m putting everything on the line, Stella.

  As crappy as my first week at Loyola was, there are some silver linings. I have Sybil. And my grades are good so far. Other than having detention with Mr. Carter for the foreseeable future and getting into trouble over the weekend, there’s still time to turn everything around. Getting onto the cheer squad is a good way to start. That’s something my mom can be proud of. Or at least, I hope it is.

  “Your birthday is next Friday,” Sybil reminds me. “We should do something crazy to celebrate.”

  I eye her wearily, and she laughs.

  “I didn’t mean too crazy. Just something fun and secret. Like a tattoo or a piercing. After all, you’ll be legal.”

  I consider her idea, and it actually doesn’t sound too bad. I’ve always wanted a cartilage piercing in my ear.

  “We can do that,” I agree. “But I’ll have to check with my parents. I don’t know if they have anything planned for the weekend or if they even remember it’s my birthday.”

  “Okay.” Her phone alarm sounds, signaling that it’s time to go. “We better scram before Mr. C has a coronary.”

  I head over to the patch of grass where we left our bags, but right away, I notice something looks off. The zipper on my backpack is open, and I know I didn’t leave it that way. I glance inside and don’t see anything out of the ordinary, and there isn’t time to inspect it now. Hell hath no fury like Mr. Carter when you’re late to his class.

  Slinging the bag over my shoulder, Sybil and I head off for Research. We even manage to arrive three minutes early, which is almost a miraculous feat for me. But just as soon as we sit down at our desks and I start to dig around inside my binder, I realize there’s a problem.

  I check three times just to be sure, even going so far as to look in my books just in case I stuffed my homework in there. But I can’t seem to find it. And before I even have a chance to panic, Louisa arrives to gloat.

  “I made you something in art class.” She smirks as she sets down a paper craft letter S that looks like it’s been painted with blood. “Since you’re so fond of red, I figured you deserved your own scarlet letter. S for slut.”

  “What the hell is your problem, Louisa?” Sybil hisses.

  “Did you take my homework at lunch?” I accuse.

  “Is there a problem here?” Mr. Carter interrupts the hubbub, his shadow falling over all three of us. When I glance up at him, he only looks at me briefly before turning his gaze to the red S on my desk.

  “The problem is Louisa is being a bitch,” Sybil belts out. “And I’m sick of it.”

  “Sybil.” Mr. Carter’s voice is a warning, but his gaze is on me now. He’s waiting for me to say something, but I feel like it’s a trick. Either way, I can’t win. If I throw Louisa under the bus, would it make any difference? She’d just come back harder next week. But I can’t keep letting her get away with this either.

  “Stella, is there something you’d like to say?” he asks, challenging me with his eyes.

  I feel his pressure bearing down on me. He wants me to make the right choice, but what is the right choice? I can’t figure it out at a moment’s notice, especially not when I’m lost in the forbidden green sea of his eyes.

  “Use your words, Stella.”

  Words. Right. I need some of those right about now because everyone is staring at me. I shift in my seat and fold my hands together beneath my desk. And then I remember Sybil’s speech about owning it. Who cares what anyone here thinks? It’s not like their opinions matter. Louisa certainly doesn’t matter, and I refuse to let her believe she’s getting to me. So instead, I take the scarlet S on my desk and secure it to my binder, displaying it for everyone to see.