Bury Me (Willow Heights Prep Academy: The Elite Book 3) Page 2

  I sink onto the edge of the bed. I shouldn’t be surprised. But my throat aches, anyway. My house is full of brothers, and Daddy will be home soon. Somehow, though, I feel utterly alone as I sit there.

  I go to my bed, and I sink down on it and close my eyes. I thought when we found Royal, everything would be good again, that it would make everything okay. But nothing is right. The big house is haunted by the ghost of the boy my brother used to be. And maybe it’s haunted by the ghost of me, too.

  No amount of ice cream, online shopping, or other wallowing techniques can fix this. When I close my eyes, I just see Devlin’s face. I’m supposed to hate him for all he’s done. I’m supposed to be happy that I made him fall for me, that I gave back what I got.

  But how can I be happy knowing I hurt the boy I love?

  two

  Crystal

  Yes, I used my body to get what I wanted. Yes, I let a boy use my body—again, I let him. I let him to get what I wanted. Anyone who has a problem with that can go fuck themselves. It’s my body to use as I see fit. My choice to do so. Who are you to disagree?

  When I open my locker the next day, a cup of coffee sits right inside, still steaming. I pull it out and look up and down the hall, my heart doing a funny little twist in my chest. Is something still alive in there, some seed of hope that’s taken root and is winding up, a tender green shoot that could be crushed under a single careless boot?

  People are watching me, but I can’t tell if it’s more than the day before. I can’t tell if it’s because I am rumored to like a good gang bang on a Friday night, or if there’s some other reason. Am I an idiot to hope? Maybe Lacey put a coffee in my locker, spiced with cinnamon and laced with arsenic.

  I get my books and close my locker. My heart nearly stops. Devlin Darling is walking toward me, a cousin on either side of him. A hundred thoughts go tumbling through my mind. Will he talk to me? Look at me? Does he hate me? Does he love me?

  I stand there, rooted to the spot, my heart beating so hard I see black spots behind my eyes. I ache for him, for anything. A touch, a smile, a word, a look.

  Each step he takes brings him closer and closer. So close I can see the way his shirt stretches over muscles on his broad shoulders, the strength in his jawline, the ice of his blue eyes. And then he’s here. He’s right beside me, so close I could reach out past Preston and press my fingertips to his skin again, feel the heat of his body, the beating of his heart. I curl my fingers so I won’t do it, not even to make sure he’s real, to convince myself that it was all real. That I really had Devlin Darling, and I lost him.

  No, I didn’t lose him.

  I threw him away.

  As he walks past without so much as a flicker of a glance, my body deflates. The tension sweeps away, and I’m left shaking. I turn and slam my locker, relishing the bang of metal on metal. What is wrong with me? I’m so fucking pathetic I could puke. What am I doing, waiting for a look from Devlin Darling like I’m one of his lovesick puppies, like I really am a dog?

  I remember something Dolly said to me, that they ruin the Darling Dog, and when they’re done with her, she wishes she could go back, that she had their attention again.

  Fuck. That.

  I’m not some pathetic dog. Even if no one will ever believe me, and I’ll never be more than the whore who took the whole football team at once, I know the truth. Devlin wanted me. He liked me. And I broke his fucking heart.

  What did I expect—that he’d come begging for me to take him back? That’s not his style, and I know it. I know that he’s proud, and he’ll probably never look at me again. If I told anyone that I hurt him, he’d deny it to his dying day. And why would anyone believe a whore like me?

  But that doesn’t matter. I didn’t do what I did for the glory, for the reputation points. I did it to hurt him, and I succeeded. Now I live with that. I don’t get to cry about it. I’m not the victim here.

  I tighten up my pony, toss the coffee in the trash, and go to class. I don’t look at Devlin, even though we sit together in science. The next day there’s another coffee, and I hold onto a sliver of hope as I walk to class, picturing what we’ll say to each other about it. When I walk into the class, though, Devlin’s sitting in the seat next to Dolly.

  I swallow hard. I know she means something to him, but the first day of school, he refused to sit with her. Apparently, that’s better than sitting with me.

  I slow when I reach their spot.

  “So, that’s how it’s going to be?” I ask.

  Devlin looks at me, his gaze cool and a smirk on his beautiful lips. “No, Sugar,” he says. “That’s how it already is.”

  “I’m real sorry,” Dolly says, glancing nervously between us with her big blue eyes. “Want me to sit with you?”

  She looks like she means it, too. I don’t know their complete history, but I was told that she still had a thing for him. I thought people were wrong, that she was into Preston, but maybe not. And who am I to stand in the way of their future together?

  I’m no one, that’s who.

  “No,” I say, forcing a smile before letting my eyes meet Devlin’s. “I work better alone, anyway.”

  I drop the coffee in the trash as I walk back to my seat, picturing myself how my classmates must see me. Because of course they’re watching. Anything to do with the Darlings, and they want the drama. Well, they’ll just have to keep on wanting, because I’m not giving them anything. All they get is an image, a mirage. Something perfect and unreal, like a doll. Every strand of hair smoothed and tamed into place. Flawlessly made up face. Prim and proper dress masking curves that might cause uncomfortable thoughts, whether that be lust or jealousy.

  Like a mannequin, a Dolce daughter exists for the sole purpose of giving everyone else a palatable, bland experience that makes them agreeable enough to what they’re being sold. Something they want, but not too much. Something they admire but can’t quite replicate for themselves. Something that’s not beautiful but fashionable, something they crave but in a detached way. I will be that girl. It’s all I have left. I sold my heart to keep my name.

  At lunch, no one barks at me. But by the time I’ve walked to the table where I usually sit, I’ve been eye-fucked by half the school. I’m not sure which is worse, that or the dog noises I used to get. Just as I slide into my seat, thinking I’m free, the barking starts. I look up, dread gripping my heart.

  But they’re not barking at me. Dixie has arrived. She stops in the doorway, planting her hands on her hips like a badass superhero girl. And a damn good one at that. She seems to have gotten the makeover my brothers suggested. She’s wearing black eyeliner and red lipstick, and her red hair is piled on top of her head with a few strands framing her round face. Her outfit consists of black, thick-soled boots, fishnets, a black-and-red schoolgirl skirt short enough to show her thighs rubbing together when she walks, a black leather jacket, and a corset top that shows a whole lot of boob.

  She marches through the cafeteria, through the sea of barking dogs, her face flaming red. I tense, praying she won’t look at the Darlings table when she passes. She glances their way, but at least she holds back her smile until she collapses into a chair at my table, her back to the cafeteria. Then, a huge grin breaks out over her face.

  “Damn, girl,” I say. “Way to make an entrance.”

  “Do I look okay?” she asks breathlessly.

  “You look like sex in boots.”

  “I second that,” Duke says. “I’d fuck you in just your boots.”

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t think they’d fit you.”

  “Better cut it out before Dolly hears you flirting,” Baron says to his twin. “Just because we’re the sharing type doesn’t mean she is.”

  “What are we talking about?” Dolly asks after mincing over to the table. Hurt twists inside me at her appearance.

  “My outfit,” Dixie says with a giggle.

  “And whether I could rock fuck-me boots,” Duke says with a grin, pulling out
Dolly’s chair without standing.

  “No,” she says definitively.

  My brothers all burst into laughter, and I try to join, but I feel like there’s a knife twisting in my back.

  “What do you think?” Dixie asks, leaning forward eagerly.

  “Good god, did you go goth?” asks Dolly, the antithesis of goth, as she looks over Dixie’s outfit. She sets down her purse—a tiny, bejeweled unicorn head that can’t fit more than her phone and a tampon—and opens her Dr. Pepper while she studies our freshman friend.

  That earns her another round of laughter—even Royal smiles. An ugly dart of jealousy pierces through me. He’ll barely look at me.

  “I thought you’d sit with the Darlings today,” I mutter. Because yeah, I’m a petty bitch.

  Dolly turns to me. “Devlin is my friend, Crystal,” she says. “I know he did some bad shit to you, but you did him wrong, too. And y’all got him and his dad arrested.”

  “We didn’t get him arrested,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her.

  She holds up a manicured hand. “I’m not taking sides because you’re both my friends. Unless you don’t want to be my friend anymore.”

  I swallow hard and nod. “I’m sorry. I’m being a bitch. Of course we’re still friends.”

  “I’ve known those boys since we were in diapers,” she says. “But the Darlings don’t own me. No one tells me where to sit.”

  “You’re friends with them?” Royal asks, nodding across the room to the Darlings table. I have to remind myself how much changed in the week he was gone. We told him how the twins ended up with Dolly, and that she took our side and stood up to the most powerful family in town, but he hasn’t seen any of it play out in real life.

  “Yes,” Dolly says, raising her chin and meeting his eyes with a challenge.

  “Then I’m telling you where to sit,” Royal says. “And it’s not at our table.”

  “Royal…” I start.

  “No, it’s fine,” Dolly says, picking up her tiny purse and her soda. “I know you’ve been through a lot, Royal, and I’m sorry for coming over here if it’s triggering for you.”

  “It’s not triggering me,” Royal snaps. “It’s pissing me off.”

  “Okay, you both need to stop,” I say, pressing my palms down on the table and staring at my twin. “Dolly’s one of my best friends now, and you can’t tell either of us who to be friends with.”

  “You’re right,” he says. Without another word, he gets up and stalks off, leaving his lunch on the table. My throat aches as I watch him go. What have I done?

  I stand, but King’s hand closes around my arm, and he pulls me back down into my seat. “Give him time,” he says. “He’s been through a lot.”

  “And he doesn’t have to go through it alone anymore,” I say. “Why is he pushing me away?”

  “I’ll go talk to him,” King says. He gathers his and Royal’s food, leans over to plant a quick kiss on top of my head, and walks off.

  “Trouble at home?” Dixie whispers to me.

  I shrug, pretending I’m fine, that we’re fine, that everything is fucking fine.

  “Trouble’s walking this way,” Dolly says.

  Colt Darling strolls toward us, taking his sweet time, soaking up the attention he’s gathering. When the Darlings are on the move, everyone watches. They’ve created this environment at Willow Heights, an intoxicating combination of anticipation, fear, and sometimes, payoff. It’s strangely addictive, this adrenaline followed by a reward or a punishment, like the rush an addict gets from gambling. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll pluck you from obscurity, put a necklace around your neck, and proclaim you untouchable… For a time. Or maybe they’ll snap a dog collar on and publicly humiliate you.

  Anticipation ripples through the cafeteria as students fall silent, waiting for what comes next, craning to see what he’s holding balled up in his fist. Some of them are probably shaking, hoping he won’t stop at their table. Some are praying he will. But most just want to hear what he’ll say. They want the gossip, crave it, need it like oxygen. Excitement buzzes in Colt’s wake because this time, they won the roll of the dice, and it isn’t them. But for one person, it is.

  Colt stops at our table, and my eyes move down to what he’s carrying. “The Darling Dog claims her rightful title,” he drawls, opening his hand to reveal a studded dog collar. “Welcome back, Winn-Dixie. I like what you’ve done with yourself. It’s almost like you were waiting for me to put this collar on you all along. Weren’t you, girl?”

  Dixie nods mutely, her eyes wide as she stares up at him with a dumbstruck expression that makes me hurt for her even as I want to shake some sense into her. Colt gives her an affectionate chuck under the chin before snapping the dog collar around her neck. She ducks her head, her face flaming, as he reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a dog ear headband, and settles it onto her head in front of the pile of hair she’s fixed into a messy bun.

  Suddenly, anger flares bright and hot inside me. “You better take that off her, or you’re going to end up wearing it,” I snap at him. “Dixie’s not a dog. And don’t even start threatening how you’ll treat me the same. I’m not wearing that, and neither is anyone else at this table, or at this school.”

  “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Colt says, giving me an easy smile. “We still run this school, Sweet Thing. You keep thinking you’ve disrupted things, but you’re just providing us with entertainment. Isn’t that right?”

  He turns to the next table, where everyone nods vigorously, eager to please their rulers.

  “And you put on quite a show,” Colt says, gesturing a finger back toward his table. “See, we’re as solid as ever. You can’t beat us. You can either join us, or you can leave this school. There’s no third option.”

  “I don’t mind,” Dixie says. “I’ll be the Darling Dog again.”

  “See, that’s a good dog,” Colt croons, his voice almost tender as he hooks his finger into the ring on the front of the collar and pulls it up so she’s forced to face him again. “This girl’s smart. She knows her place around here. She knows being the Dog isn’t a punishment. It’s an honor. Right, Winn-Dixie?”

  Dixie nods like a bobblehead, and I can practically see her swooning over this guy as he humiliates her. But who am I to talk? I fell for a Darling, too, just like her and every other girl at this school. I’m no better than any of them.

  Colt smiles down at Dixie, but there’s a vicious glint in his eyes. His voice drops until it’s barely more than a purr. “Now, meet me in the bathroom at the start of your next class, and I’ll fuck the red right off that pretty pout.”

  He turns and walks away, leaving her gaping after him.

  “Want me to break his arm, too?” Duke asks. “Because I’ll do it for you.”

  “No,” Dixie says, shaking her head and staring down at her lunch, her face scarlet. “I—I really don’t mind being the Dog.”

  “Dixie,” I begin. “You don’t have to do that to get his attention.”

  She raises her eyes to mine. “No, you don’t have to,” she says. “I am a dog, Crystal. At least this way, people look at me like I’m something… Intriguing. When I’m not the Darling Dog, they call me a dog, anyway—and worse.”

  “Who?” I demand. “That’s bullshit, Dixie.”

  She shrugs. “Everyone. It doesn’t matter. But I’m tired of being called a fat cow. When I’m theirs, no one else dares mess with me.”

  “She’s right,” Dolly says. “The Darlings are very possessive about their Dogs and Dolls.”

  I want to protest, but I have to admit she’s right. When I was the Dog, no one except the Darlings messed with me. When the girls put dogfood in my locker, they were publicly shamed.

  “I’m not sure it’s worth it,” I say at last. “What they do to the Dog, it’s really fucked up.”

  “They did those things to you because you fought back,” Dixie says. “Not because you were their dog. If they take me to a party, and
all I have to do is wear a leash, at least I’m at a Darling party. I mean, when else would a girl who looks like me get to go to a party like that?”

  “Since when are the Darlings back on good terms?” Baron asks, changing the subject before I can argue more. “I thought they let Devlin’s dad rot in jail for a week instead of posting bail. What gives?”

  “The Darlings aren’t on good terms,” Dolly confirms. “Their families are still on the outs. The police are still investigating Devlin’s dad, but y’all—and don’t hate me for saying this—he didn’t do it. I’ve known that man since I was born, and he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Not to mention he’d never do anything that would risk taking him away from his family,” Dixie says. “Mr. Darling’s a real family man.”

  “Really?” I ask, quirking a brow. “Because I seem to remember his real mom saying he cheated on her.”

  “No, no, no,” Dolly says, holding up a hand. “That’s not even fair.”

  “Then what happened?”

  She opens her mouth and then closes it. “You know, you better ask Devlin about all that,” she says at last. “It’s not my place to air all his family’s dirty laundry. I just want you to know that I’m not saying all the Darlings are innocent, or that they’re good people, but Devlin’s dad? He’s good people.”

  Carmen and Kaylee the horse-faced head cheerleader walk by, slowing to sneer at us. “Look, it’s the whore of Faulkner. I wonder if she’s fucking her own dog. No one else would want her now.”

  “They’ve all had a turn, anyway,” Carmen says.

  “You seem awfully interested in what I do with my vagina,” I say. “Maybe you’re the one who wants me now.”

  “Oh my god,” she squeals in disgust, like I just used some unspeakably vulgar term. “Could you be any more tacky?”

  “I’ll ask Coach Snow when I’m done taking your place on the squad,” I say with a smile.

  “In your dreams, skank,” Kaylee says.

  “Whoa,” Duke says. “I was going to let this go on in case you and Dolly got in a hot girl fight, but no one talks to my sister like that.”