Music. Music always helps.
I sling my backpack off my shoulder to dig in the front pocket for my headphones and phone.
They’re not there.
With a huff, I drop to a crouch and open up the main zipper.I swear I packed them. I never leave the house without them…
“What do we have here?”
That voice is ice water dumped down my spine.
They say monsters aren’t real. That they’re used in stories as cautionary tales. But I disagree. Monsters areveryreal. They hide in plain sight, wearing good, upstanding, charismatic skin suits, banding together in secret groups. They’re experts at camouflage, mimicking likable characteristics to deter anyone from noticing the evil, emptiness in their eyes. And when they find suitable prey, they shed their facades like poisonous reptiles, molting until their true form is revealed.
Slowly I pivot on the balls of my feet.
Staring down at me with a gruesome grin is the reigning king of monsters: Grant Larson. Beside him, poised to strike like the venomous snake she is, stands his right-hand bitch, Jessica.
“You owe me a hundred bucks. I told you he’d go this way,” she hisses, slinking closer. “He has been all week.”
Instinct screams to shuffle back, but my legs have sprouted roots, anchoring me in the dirt.
Grant shoots her an annoyed glare. “No, you got the time wrong. You said in a few hours when the track team gets back.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be cheap. Pay up.”
He scoffs, “Later,” and returns his unwanted attention to me. Every unseen bruise he’s inflicted on my body screams. His grin widens. “Aww, are you excited to see us, fag?”
At my silence, he clicks his tongue. “You like to play hard to get, but we all know you’re a slut for attention. Let me guess, you’re going to let that little boyfriend of yours use you like the willing whore you are, aren’t you?”
They’re just empty words. They mean nothing.
“No, he totally gives virgin vibes,” Jessica hums, towering over me now. My knuckles bleach as I fist the nylon strap of my backpack. Her shadow engulfs me, a cruel sneer on her pouty lips. “We should show him what he’s been missing.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My pulse accelerates. I’ve been rendered mute. Grant’s scrutinizing gaze rakes over me, then flicks over my head—
A foot slams into my back.
My hands shoot out—
Roots and small rocks cut my palms. Dark laughter rings in my ears as the newcomer snatches my backpack. Pure terror rockets through me. I twist free of the heavy foot pinning me down and lunge for the bag—
Pain explodes through the side of my head.
Black vignettes my vision.
“Lube and condoms? Virgins don’t carry those around,” snickers Marcus.
I blink rapidly.Shit. Pushing up on all fours, I wobble.
Another blow below my ribs.
“You know, Jess might be onto something here,” Grant muses, his shoe digging into the same spot he just kicked. With a cry, I collapse to the ground, curling in on myself.
“Then how do you explain this shit?” Marcus asks, snapping the string of foil packets.
“Just because he’s a virgin, doesn’t mean he doesn’twantit,” Grant chuckles. “Clearly, his little boyfriend isn’t giving him what he needs.”
No,please no.
