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Chapter Eighteen
It’s the end of the first week back after the holidays, the boys aren’t talking to me at all - which is lonely as fuck. I probably should’ve made some other friends for moments like this. I haven’t even seen the guys because they’ve skipped class and meals all week. Even Ace hasn’t turned up for my morning runs or sparring sessions. That hurts even more than the hot chocolate withdrawal.
To make matters worse, I’m back to sitting at the princesses’ table which is as much fun as sticking red hot pokers up my bum. On the plus side, I’ve got loads of studying done in preparation for our exams that are in a couple of weeks. It makes up for not studying at all over the Christmas break.
Two interesting things have happened this week. First, Lexii and Natalia didn’t return to school with the rest of the students, and there are so many rumours flying around about why. Second, Tilly’s waging all-out war on me. In private anyway. In front of the rest of the school, she’s the epitome of a gracious leader bestowing kindness on her fellow princesses. In private, however, she’s gunning for me. It definitely has something to do with the guys.
Word has somehow gotten out - to her at least - that I basically moved in with the guys over Christmas and now she’s hissing “whore” and “slut” at me under her breath at every opportunity she gets. If only she knew. She even tried to trip me in the corridor, and there was a nasty incident where she ‘tripped’ in the canteen and tried to make me wear her dessert. Obviously, she didn’t take my ninja reflexes into account, so I easily dodged her, and she ended up covering Amber instead. Both were furious and fell out over it, but I just found the whole thing hilarious. If custard yellow isn’t Amber’s colour, green with envy isn’t Tilly’s.
What I don’t understand is why she isn’t bringing her A-game. She clearly dislikes me for a multitude of reasons: transferring in late, getting special privileges, being a Princess, being a Deighton, being involved with the guys... the list could go on. Surely she has more reasons to hate me than she did for hating Lizzie, so why am I not getting the same treatment that she did? I know she has it in her, but at the moment her endeavours to embarrass or harm me are weak at best. Can I get that on a t-shirt? ‘Your bullying game is weak’. I want to goad her, really push her, to see how she’ll react. But I’m playing the long game, so I bite my tongue. In fact, every time she strikes, I smile at her in a pitying ‘I thought you would do better than that’ kind of way, which I’m pretty sure is enraging her. Good.
Friday night, I’m home alone in my dorm for the first time in ages, which really sucks. I desperately want to see the guys, to clear the air and put things right, but I don’t know how. I could just head down to their house right now, but it would be awkward. What would I say? I still don’t think I’ve done anything wrong. Besides, tonight I have other plans.
I wait until Tilly and the rest of the girls on our floor are out at a party before picking the lock to her room. It’s a piece of piss. The locks on our doors are more for show than anything, it’s honestly easier than breaking into those suitcase padlocks with universal keys. Part of my more informal Krav Maga training includes lock picking, and frankly, her room’s an insult to my abilities.
Anyway, once I’m in, I head straight for the bathroom, decanting half of her shampoo and conditioner down the drain, and topping each bottle up with hair removal cream. I have no idea if this shit actually works, but it’s got to be worth a try. As I’m turning to leave the bathroom, I spy one of those leave-in deep conditioning treatments, so I add my replacement to that too. That will definitely work.
Next, I move to the corner of Tilly’s walk-in closet. I kneel down and peel back the corner of the carpet. It’s perfect. I wrench up the floorboard, glad I came prepared for this, and drop my little ‘gift’ (a small dead bird I found in the woods) inside, before replacing the board and the carpet. It’s unnoticeable that the rug’s been tampered with. Just in case that does get discovered though, I slip a little surprise inside her hollow curtain pole too. Fresh kippers. It’ll take a while for this plan to work - namely waiting for the first to rot - but it’ll be worth it. Even if they gut the room, I doubt anyone would think to check inside the curtain rail. That smell’s going to permeate everything and longer for years.
After that, I slip over to her bedside table and switch out her birth control pills for the fakes I secured online. They’re a good copy, there’s no way she’ll be able to tell that they’re different. I don’t know if she’s sexually active enough for this to work, but it doesn’t hurt to cover all bases. She should be going Double Dutch anyway - ahem, hello pot have you met the kettle, I think to myself with a snort.
There’s one more thing I came in here to do. I move to her desk and pull out the drawer. Bending down, I tape the small bags of cocaine and pills to the underside of the draw’s bottom. There are five bags full in total, more than could be considered recreational. It’s my back up plan if it comes to it.
While I’m by her desk, I take the opportunity to snoop around. The silly bitch has left her laptop open, unlocked, and signed in to all of her social media and emails. Her school email catches my eye, however.
At the top of her inbox is an opened email from the school nurse. Interesting. I click on it and read. It’s confirmation of an appointment this Saturday for a full STI screening. Obviously not going Double Dutch then. Perfect. This, I can work with. A plan’s already forming in my mind. I just need some help hacking the medical database in school, but it shouldn’t be too hard. As much as I don’t want to, I’ll have to ask Michael. I’m going to make sure that Tilly - and the rest of the school - thinks that she has an STI.
All in all, it’s been a good evening, I think as I slip back out of her room and head back to mine. I’m feeling buoyant and ready to get shit done. It’s late, but not too late, so I pull on my running gear and decide to do a quick circuit of the grounds. That should burn off some excess energy.
I’m heading out the door when I bump - literally - into Michael.
“Shit, watch where you’re going!” The words fly out of my mouth without thinking. To be fair, they would’ve come out that way no matter who I bumped into so I should probably be glad it wasn’t Headmistress Archer that I smacked into.
“Sorry, sorry! Oh, hey Raven.” His face lights up when he realises it’s me. “How was your holiday?”
“Great thanks, yours?”
“Meh, too long with the parents. I’m glad to be back. Maybe we can work together in English this term? I missed you.”
“Mmmmm-hmmmm.” I make a vague noise. “I should head off, don’t want my muscles to get cold.” I regret saying that the instant it leaves my mouth. Michael’s eyes drop to my feet and give me an agonisingly slow once over. It makes my skin crawl, and it’s challenging to keep the fake smile plastered on my face.
“Maybe I should take up running.” His tone is just...ick. He’s trying to flirt with me, and it’s just wrong on so many levels. I feel bile rise up into my throat and - gross - quickly swallow it back down.
“Maybe... hey, while you’re here I wanted to ask you something.” His eyes spark with interest, and I hastily plough on so that he doesn’t get the wrong idea. “Who would I need to speak to if I needed help with...a computer problem? A sensitive one.”
Michael laughs, “You don’t have to search far at all for help...” When I give him a blank stare he elaborates, “Just ask one of your guys.”
“My guys?” I raise an eyebrow at him but don’t comment further. “They know computers?”
“Hell yeah. Rebel’s one of the best hackers I’ve ever come across.”
“Wow. I had no idea.” He gives me a strange look, but I don’t want to get into it. I start to jog on the spot to warm up. “Thanks! I’ll speak to one of them then. See you in class.” I wave goodbye and head out into the cold winter air, my mind whirling with possibilities.
Typically, it would be Rebel that I need help from. That means I’m going to have to go and talk to him in the morning. That’ll be fun. Hopefully, all the guys’ll be there so we can clear the air, and then I can get Rebel on his own to ask him how to hack the medical records and results. That’s the plan anyway, I think to myself as I start my run on this dark, icy night.
***
The next morning it’s early, but I’m up and ready, standing outside the boys’ house. I’m riled up, and I’ve decided that I’m not leaving without answers at least. I try the door, but it’s locked. When I stayed here over Christmas, it was never locked. I ring the bell, but there’s no answer. I’m guessing, from the loud music that’s rattling the windows, that they just can’t hear the sound. So I lean on it continuously until the music stops abruptly and a moment later the door’s thrown open with force.
