Bully Me (Willow Heights Prep Academy: The Elite Book 1) Page 6

  nine

  Coming into a new school and starting at the top means pushing everyone below you down a step. It means climbing over every single person to get there. The person at the top has highest to fall. Maybe nothing changes at all for the person at the bottom. They’re still there. Only maybe it does. Maybe you take a hand reaching up from the very bottom of the pile and you pull them up with you.

  Tell me it doesn’t change things for them. Tell me. I dare you.

  The rest of the morning passes uneventfully. Preston is in my math class, which is a mix of sophomores and juniors, but he doesn’t seem to notice me today. A couple people give me dirty looks, but no one barks at me. Halfway through class, Preston gets up and walks out without a word to the teacher. A few minutes later, Dolly raises her hand and asks to use the restroom. Neither of them returns to class.

  I wonder if they’re hooking up. And if Devlin knows. And why I care.

  I turn my attention back to the lesson and make it to lunch without issue. There, I head straight for Dixie’s table. She’s wearing the dog collar and ears from the day before, along with a black top that shows ample, freckled cleavage. I slide into a seat next to her.

  “So,” I start. “Tell me more about this Darling Dogs and Darling Dolls thing.”

  She looks taken aback by my question. I can’t tell if she’s surprised that I asked, or that I sat with her again, or some other reason.

  Before she can answer, the Dolce boys arrive, towering over our table.

  “What are you doing?” King asks.

  “Sitting with my friend,” I say flatly. For some fucked up reason, I feel bonded to her because of the stupid Darling Dog label.

  King jerks his chin toward the next table, which sits empty. “Can we talk?”

  I sigh and stand, following them to the empty table. “I gave up the whole being a wallflower plan,” I say. “I admit, it was stupid. But I’m not going to be a bitch, either. I like Dixie. And she needs me.”

  “You’re punishing yourself for what happened in New York by making over that girl?” Royal asks, hitting way too close to home.

  “No,” I say with a scowl.

  “She’s a dog,” Duke says.

  “A what?” I ask, my heart lurching. Do they know about that? And that I’ve taken over that title from her?

  “Ugly,” Baron says. “She doesn’t take care of herself. If she put in a little effort, she’d be okay. Nice tits.”

  “You’re gross,” I say. “And against the rules.”

  Since they basically reject any guy I’d even consider while they can fuck anyone they want, I made them swear my friends were the exception. No dating them, no hooking up, no talking about their tits.

  “Fine,” Duke says. “But do you really want to start off like this? I don’t see her as a social climber. We’re going places, and she’s going to hold you back.”

  I cross my arms and stare at him, refusing to back down. “Either she comes with me, or I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Fine,” King says. “Have it your way. But you’re making more work for yourself.”

  “I’m not afraid of hard work,” I say. “Besides, she knows this school. She’s lived in this town all her life. Maybe she can help us. And I know I can help her.”

  “Then let’s sit with her,” Royal says with a shrug. My brothers all take seats around the table with Dixie, who looks like she’s about to have a heart attack. Her face turns red, and she stutters through my introductions. She barely says a word for the entire lunch while my brothers discuss trying out for the football team. The season’s already started, but Dad’s influence can get them at least a tryout.

  “Who starts?” King asks Dixie.

  “What?” she asks, her eyes going wide. “Oh, I… The Darlings, obviously. And… them.” She gestures vaguely to a table where I spot the three cousins and their crowd.

  “Once we’re on the team, we’ll prove ourselves,” Royal says, glaring at the Darlings. “We’ll see who’s starting then.”

  “They’re really good,” Dixie says.

  “You haven’t seen us play,” Duke says with a smirk.

  “You should come to the game on Friday,” Dixie says. A blush sweeps over her cheeks, and she shoves a bite of sandwich into her mouth.

  “Sounds good,” Duke says. “We can scope out the competition.”

  “By next week, there won’t be competition,” King says.

  When lunch ends, Devlin and Preston swagger by, beautiful blondes swarming around them like flies. Devlin catches sight of us and snickers. “Is that the best you can do?” he asks.

  “You can’t even get our leftovers,” Preston says, laughing at my brothers. “The only girls who want you are the dogs and your own sister.”

  They walk out laughing. Even Colt grins as he strolls after them. I glance sideways at Dixie, who’s gone red as a lobster again.

  “He’ll be eating his words soon enough,” Duke says with a grin. “When we’re fucking all their girlfriends.”

  My brothers go off to class, and Dixie grabs my arm. “Oh. My. God. Those are your brothers?”

  “Yes,” I say, rolling my eyes. “And no, I can’t set you up with them.” This is one thing that hasn’t changed. I’m used to this line of questioning. I’m used to girls trying to get close to me just to get to my brothers. I’m used to them dumping me when they find out my brothers won’t date my friends.

  “Oh, I wasn’t…” Dixie gets all red and flustered again. “I mean, they wouldn’t go out with me.”

  “Why not?” I ask.

  “Because,” she says, widening her eyes at me like it’s obvious, like I should know why.

  I shrug. “They don’t date my friends. So if that’s what you’re after, let’s skip the pretense of friendship, and you can go after them. Going through me to get to them isn’t going to work.”

  “I’m not.” Dixie draws back, and I realize I slipped into defensive mode without meaning to, that I’m being a total bitch.

  “I’m sorry,” I say with a sigh. “It just happened one too many times. When a girl starts being nice to me for no reason, I assume. Which is shitty, and I should work on that.”

  “You’re suspicious when people are nice to you?”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Fucked up, right? But also pretty typical for my old school.”

  “Wow,” she says, shaking her head. “Does that mean… I mean, you’re being nice to me. Should I be suspicious? Because you probably shouldn’t be friends with me. I’m the Darling Dog, and you… You could be, like, a Doll and the head cheerleader all at once.”

  “Been there, done that,” I say. “I’m ready for a change.”

  “But you’re gorgeous,” she says, her face flushing. “I’m not even pretty.”

  “Shut up,” I say. “You’re pretty.”

  She ducks her head, shaking it back and forth. “Look at me. I’ve never even had a boyfriend. The only reason I go here is because my aunt married the mayor.”

  “First off, I’ve never had a boyfriend, either. And secondly, who says you’re not pretty? The Darlings? Fuck them. My brother thinks you’re sexy.”

  “What?” she squeaks, skidding to a stop in the hall. “He said that?”

  I shrug. “Okay, he said something rude about your tits, but that’s what he meant.”

  “Really?” Dixie’s practically glowing as she adjusts her boobs, pushing them up and adjusting her bra.

  “This school is fucked up,” I say. “Don’t put too much stock in what people here think. This whole town is backwards.”

  She seems to think about this for a minute before nodding and continuing down the hall. I fall into step beside her.

  “So, I’m the Darling Dog now? What exactly does that entail?”

  “Well, different things,” Dixie says, blushing again. “Actually, I should probably give these back now that you’ve been claimed…” She trails off and touches her dog ears.

  “Don�
��t tell me you’re sorry that you’ve passed on the title to me.”

  “No,” she says quickly. “I’m not. Here.” She yanks off the headband and reaches back to unsnap her dog collar. “They’d probably be mad if they saw me wearing them now that they took away my title, anyway. It’s better if I give them to you.”

  “You can put them right there,” I say, pointing to a trash can.

  Dixie’s eyes widen. “Devlin Darling put this collar on me. I can’t just throw it away.”

  “Then let me,” I say, plucking the items from her hand and depositing them exactly where they belong. I brush off my hands and turn back to her. “Now that we’ve taken care of that, tell me more about the football team.”

  That afternoon, I fill in the details for my brothers, telling them everything I learned from Dixie. A tiny pang of guilt accompanies my divulgence, as if I owe the Darlings something. Which I don’t. Two of them have been complete assholes to me, and Colt… Well, I don’t know about Colt. But I certainly don’t owe him loyalty. These are my brothers, and I want them to have everything they want. And they want everything.

  As I talk, we turn into our neighborhood and curve along the narrow, one-lane asphalt road toward our new home. I push the guilt away. I’m not telling my brothers anything they couldn’t find out by asking around the way that I have. And I like helping them.

  We’re just passing the Darling’s driveway when the Range Rover jerks wildly. King yanks the wheel straight, and the twins shout a chorus of curses as another jolt goes through it. The car skids sideways, the wheel sinking into the shoulder before the car slams to a halt against the brick monstrosities that serve as mailboxes around here. Ours and the Darlings are side by side, right between the two properties, and we managed to topple both. Judging by the solidity of the mailboxes, we probably just totaled the Range Rover, too.

  “What the fuck,” King fumes, leaping out of the car.

  I can hear the air whistling out of the punctured tire, but I’m too stunned to move for a second. The twins keep up a solid stream of cursing as they jump out of the car to look at the tire, too.

  “You okay?” Royal asks, adjusting the mirror to see me.

  “Fine,” I say, taking a deep breath and running my damp palms over my thighs. “It’s just a flat.”

  “There’s fucking nails in the road,” Duke yells.

  King ducks back into the car, gripping the steering wheel and staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched and his knuckles white.

  “What happened?” I ask, wrapping my hands around my knees and squeezing until my nails bite into my skin. “Can you change the tire?”

  “Go up to the house,” King says, not moving a muscle.

  “We don’t have three spares,” Baron says, dropping into the seat beside me.

  A door slams, and I turn to see a thin, blonde woman emerging from the Darling’s house. She’s wearing hot pink capri pants and a flowered blouse, her hair pulled up in a high, smooth pony. She starts toward us with mincing steps on her pink high heels, making her way carefully down the white gravel walkway between the bowing trees. Her hips sway as she takes each tiny step, a phone in one hand and what looks like a pie balanced on the other.

  “Tootle-oo,” she calls, waving at us with the hand holding the phone.

  Royal curses under his breath, hauling himself out of the passenger side. The rest of us climb out as well, since it’s obvious the Range Rover isn’t going anywhere right now. Duke whistles softly, his eyes locked on the twitching hips of the woman approaching. “If that’s Devlin’s mom, it won’t even be taking one for the team to fuck her.”

  “Do you think it was them?” I ask. As if in answer, a powder blue Bel Air turns into the neighborhood and rolls up behind us. The top is down, his blond hair tousled, his arm resting along the windowsill of the car. A pair of designer shades cover his mean eyes. He looks like something straight out of a movie, especially when he flashes us a smug grin. “Car trouble?” he drawls, not moving to get out of his convertible.

  “Oh, there you are, darling,” calls the woman as she reaches the end of their drive and starts for our car. “I’ve been meaning to go meet the neighbors all week. Let’s introduce ourselves.”

  Devlin doesn’t answer. He sits in the car for a minute, and I think he’s going to tell her no. Just as it begins to get awkward, though, he swings open the door and steps out. His mother tilts her head, and he leans in and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. I’m touched, not to mention surprised as hell. The way this guy acts at school, I’d never have pegged him as a mama’s boy. She doesn’t look old enough to be his mother, either, but appearances are deceiving. If I learned anything from Mom’s friends, it’s the lengths women will go to in order to appear youthful.

  “Y’all must be the Dolce clan,” she says, apparently satisfied with Devlin’s display of affection. She sashays past him and over to us. A pair of sunglasses sit perched on her nose, so I can’t fully read her expression as she takes us in.

  “That’s us,” King says, thrusting out a hand. “I’m King Dolce.”

  “The king of the Dolce clan?” she asks, then titters at her own joke.

  I force a smile and intercept before she can get all gross the way older women do about my brothers. “You must be Mrs. Darling,” I say, holding out a hand. “I’m Crystal Dolce.”

  She plunks the glass pie dish into my hands. “It’s lovely to meet you, Crystal,” she says. “Why don’t you run this up to the house and bring your daddy down to take a look at these mailboxes while we introduce ourselves?”

  My jaw nearly hits the pavement as I gape at her.

  What. The. Actual. Fuck.

  Not seeming to realize she’s just been rude as hell, or more likely not giving a fuck, Mrs. Darling turns to slide her thin, tan fingers into King’s. “Well, hello there. I’m Mrs. Darling, your next-door neighbor.” She smiles adoringly at him before reaching past me to shake Royal’s hand, so close I have to sidestep so I don’t get knocked over. Devlin stands behind her, a bored smirk on his lips. I wish I could see his eyes behind his shades, see what he thinks about his mother being so obvious in her flirtation with my brothers.

  Royal shakes her hand before stepping over to join me. “Looks good,” he murmurs, glancing at the pie. “Aren’t you going to run along so the adults can talk?”

  “Shut up,” I say, elbowing him and trying not to laugh. I’m so grateful for him always noticing when I need his quiet support and always being there to give it without me even asking.

  When Mrs. Darling tries to introduce Devlin, he nods at us. “We met at school,” is all he says.

  “My goodness, what happened here?” she asks, gesturing to the pile of bricks where the mailboxes stood.

  “Just a little accident,” King says, sounding so unconcerned that you’d never know five minutes ago he looked like a bomb about to go off. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it taken care of.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried about that,” Mrs. Darling says with a wave of her hand and a peel of laughter. “I was just worried about y’all. Everybody okay?”

  “We’re just fine, thanks,” Royal says.

  “That’s good,” she says. “I can’t imagine how I’d feel if my Devlin got in an accident. Good thing he’s such a safe driver. You can’t be too careful, especially with a car like that.”

  Forgetting my manners, I gape at the lunatic. Okay, so I’m starting to see why he might have dated Redneck Barbie. His mom is a suburban housewife version, and I’d bet money her medicine cabinet could rival Mom’s.

  “Need me to lend you a hand?” Devlin asks, smirking at us. “It’s not far. We can probably just push her up your driveway.”

  “We got it,” Royal says, glaring daggers at our smug neighbor.

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Darling coos. “My Devlin’s happy to help, aren’t you, baby? He’s strong, too. But I bet you can see that.”

  She laughs and bats at his arm in a way that’s just bordering on fl
irtatious.

  Devlin works his jaw back and forth.

  “Let me just hop in there and steer,” Mrs. Darling says, skirting around the Range Rover toward the driver’s seat.

  “We don’t need to push it,” King says. “I’ll just park it at the end of our drive.”

  The engine’s running, so he can steer us out of the ditch, but we’ll need new tires before we drive anywhere on those rims.

  “Oh, boy,” Mrs. Darling says, bending over slowly to pick up a nail in the road. “Would you look at this? No wonder you got a flat.”

  “Three flats,” Royal mutters, glaring at Devlin.

  Devlin gazes back impassively.

  “Some kids must have been playing out here,” Mrs. Darling says. “I’ll have to talk to the neighborhood watch about this. Imagine! Nails in the road. It’s a blessing y’all were going so slow. It could have been a real tragedy.”

  I stare hard at Devlin, waiting for the slightest twitch to give him away, but he only watches, his expression serene, the afternoon sun gleaming on his golden hair like he’s every inch the angel his mother believes he is.

  Royal circles the front of the car and cuts off Mrs. Darling, sliding into the driver’s seat. There’s no way he’s going to let this nutcase, or anyone else, drive his car. He pulls forward, bouncing over a few loose bricks and lumbering back onto the road. As he pulls off the road into our driveway, Mrs. Darling stares after him, absently smoothing her hands over her middle. I don’t miss the way she’s sucking in her belly and poking out her boobs, though.

  “I’ve been meaning to pop by and say hello to your daddy all week, and this gives me just the excuse,” she says, turning and whisking the pie from my hands before beaming up at King. “I remember him from high school. He was quite the looker back then, just like you boys.”

  Oh, god. I turn away to roll my eyes, only to be caught by Devlin Darling. Shit.

  “You know you’re going to pay for this,” I mutter to him.

  “For what?” he asks, his expression a complete blank, as if he has no idea what I’m talking about.