Fiery Little Thing: Chapter 4

“He’s kind of cute.”

I glare at Charlie, stabbing the restaurant-quality asparagus with a wooden spork. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

“He’s just so… big.” She bites the inside of her cheek in a poor attempt at hiding her blush, gazing at him as he stands in the cafeteria line with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed, balancing his tray with a single hand. But Charlie is most definitely right. He is big. I mean, the white button-up uniform is literally straining to contain his bulging biceps.

I’m clearly not the only one who’s noticing, because Sarah and her posse of pretentious bitches haven’t torn their eyes off him and his stupidly handsome face since he showed up this morning. Scratch that; the entire school hasn’t stopped staring—boys included. But I’m not sure if the guys are eying him up to gauge whether he’s a threat, or if they’re questioning their sexuality.

“And his face?” Charlie whistles.

I clap my hands in front of her face to stop her from ogling the literal bane of my existence. “He’s a fucking pyromaniac, Charlie.”

She pulls on her box-dyed black hair five times, then pops it in her mouth and sucks on it, giving me an innocent glance. Her eyes wander back to him, and she goes all dreamy. “I’m sure he has redeeming qualities.”

“Zero. Nada. None.” I shake my head. She’s the only person I tolerate in this hellhole, and right now, I’m about to reconsider whether sitting with this loose cannon is a good idea.

“Did you hear me when I said he’s abusive? Pushes me around? Keeps trying to choke me?” Not to mention he lit my hair on fire when we were kids, broke into my house and started going through my stuff, and left me a dead bird on my front porch then had the audacity to ask if I liked his present. Let’s not forget the time he stole some of my clothes after PE and left a knife in my locker a couple years back. Oh, and also all the horrendous shit that comes out of his mouth every day.

“Really?” She whips her attention back to me, and her eyes widen with… fucking excitement? Jesus Christ, clearly that wasn’t the deterrent I thought it would be.

A string of extra bad boyfriends landed her in this place after the last one convinced her to start dealing, and then she tried gouging his eye out when he cheated on her in her own bed.

Her reaction was justified, if you ask me.

I’d love to see her try to fight Kohen, but unfortunately, she’s the size of my pinky, and her mood swings aren’t her only issues. On the bright side, when we blow up at each other and she lashes out at me, I can hold her back by putting a hand on her forehead.

The only reason we keep coming back to each other is because we’re both broke, and she’s not a recluse by choice. Apparently, her ability to cry and go berserk just because someone looks at her weirdly doesn’t make her the most popular person.

“You think he knows where we can score?” Charlie whispers.

If I’m being honest with myself, this place isn’t all bad. I’m fed, I have electricity, running hot water, and security that no one is going to steal my shit. Plus, I’m not about to run into either of my parents or their equally screwed-up friends.

On the downside—or up, depending on how you look at it—I haven’t had a proper bender in two months. However, where there are spoiled, rich kids, there are drugs. Except this whole cashless-campus “bank transfer only” is cramping my style.

But where there are people with drugs, there are dicks and pussies that want attention.

I’m inclined to either.

“The motherfucker is clean,” I grumble. Even if Kohen knew where to score, it would be a cold day in hell before he recommends anything.

As if he senses my stare, he turns my way. My heartbeat stutters before I flip him the bird and mouth, “Asshole.”

Boris shoots me a warning look, and I send him the same message I sent Kohen. Except Boris leaves his supervisor’s post by the cafeteria door and walks toward me, reaching for the taser at his side.

Oops.

I jump up, ready to gap it, but both of our heads swivel toward the commotion at the lunch line. The guy ahead of Kohen has managed to spill his entire tray onto the person behind him .

There’s something to be said about the predictability of ego and testosterone. Naturally, punching said spiller is the only possible conclusion to restore one’s prespilled food status. Before any security guard can take two steps, someone yells, “Food fight!”

A heartbeat later, chaos erupts from every corner of the dining hall.

The food part of a food fight here is optional. There’s one of these every month, from what I gather. The benefit of court-mandated attendance at a rich reform school is that bribery is the lifeblood of this place. So why would McGill want to shrink his pockets by running to the judge to spill the beans about his inability to control the student body? He’ll just piss off parents and lose their “donations.”

I want to say it’s a pity to see tomato sauce plastered all over the three-hundred-year-old stone or spaghetti hanging from the chandelier, but it’s what puts the reform into school. And I’ve gotta admit, I almost prefer Seraphic Hills over St. Augustine, because here?

We love a good fight.

But I’m above such childish behavior, because me? I stretch my fingers out and eye all the unattended backpacks. My pockets need filling, and after the encounter with Kohen, what better way to satisfy my cravings than by stealing from the rich.

The cold night air feels crisp in my lungs as I button up my woolen coat, watching clouds of condensation form and disperse with each breath I take. God, I missed this.

McGill hasn’t let me out past dinnertime in almost three weeks. He thought locking me up would teach me a lesson about keeping my hands to myself. It did the opposite.

Without the chemical highs, I’ve been clawing for anything to make my heart race or make me temporarily forget about everything. Stealing lost its thrill when the worst thing about getting caught is being stuck in a room with McGill. Sure, getting shoved into a room with next to no stimulation except my homework is bad enough. But honestly, my grades have never been better.

Even sneaking off like Charlie and I are doing now isn’t fun when there’s a chance we won’t find what we’re looking for on the other side of the spear-tipped fence.

I grunt as I pull back the loose bars, allowing Charlie to squeeze through the gap. Once she’s on the other side, she pushes the bars towards me. As high as Seraphic Hills’s budget is, they don’t monitor the fences as closely as they should. Or the church. It works in our favor.

Under the harsh glow of the moonlight, vines snake around trees and between gravestones. The bottom of my long coat catches on shrubbery and skims the top of the grass. Walking through the cemetery is risky, as the roots are a tripping hazard. We tread carefully, trying to be as quiet as possible. Security rarely makes it all the way out to the church, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful.

Rain drenched the campus earlier, and the cemetery is known for its bone-breaking mudslides. We remain silent as we take each step, ensuring we stand on even ground before shifting our weight.

The faint sound of chatter fills my ears as we trek further away from campus. Eventually, the trees clear, and the church of Saint someone or other emerges behind the safety fencing that was erected five years ago.

I glance back, checking to see we aren’t being followed, then we climb over the chain-link fence, landing ungracefully on the other side with an oomph.

Like the campus, the church has the same gothic structure, with pointed arches and flying buttresses that are hanging by a thread. Moss and mold cover the once sandy-colored stone, creeping through carvings and covering the boarded-up windows and doors, as if slowly eating the church alive.

I tried breaking in once when I was hopped up on Molly, but like my predecessors, my attempts failed. Rumor has it the roof is unstable, and some pillars have crumbled away. A couple of the windows are smashed, but whether by divine will or coincidence, the stained glass of Mother Mary remains untouched.

Actually, it’s probably because the artist gave her a BBL, and that’s the only thing the guys around here would worship.

I can still recall when I was tweaking and was convinced she was talking to me. It was concerning because she sounded like my mother but looked like Meryl Streep.

I look over at Charlie to see if she made it over the fence. She stands back, tucking her hands into her armpits, waiting for me to walk first, even though she was the one who introduced me to this place. I stall as my attention snags on the gold chain around her neck, and my veins buzz with the need to liberate it from her.

Swallowing, I shake my head. She’s my friend, I remind myself. I can’t just steal from friends. It takes monumental effort to look away and keep hiking through the forest, attempting to push back the urges by focusing on the fact that another one of my cravings will be met tonight.

Someone laughs, causing me to tense up before the adrenaline kicks in, and I move faster with a slight bounce in my step. Without even seeing them, I can smell the devil’s lettuce permeating the air. Weed isn’t my usual drug of choice, but it’ll do. Unless Elijah decides to be generous today, but I won’t hold out hope since I’ve been holding out on him. Seraphic Hills has really messed with my mind because I haven’t spread my legs since that night I spent with Duke. My fucked-up brain is convinced that I’ll be burned alive this time.

I round the corner, and half the group groggily shifts their attention toward us, all with dilated pupils. Elijah is the first to make a noise, wolf whistling and rising from the stone steps leading up to the church. “There she is.”

I plaster on a coy smile when I make eye contact with him. It’s not a substitute for letting his dick near me, but my dazzling looks are all he’s getting until I get desperate enough to beg on my knees, which I’m nearing. Elijah will chase as long as he believes he’s the only male I’m putting on a show for.

I don’t acknowledge the other two guys and one girl who are all sharing a joint. Charlie gives them each a timid smile but stays close to my heels, sitting a foot away from me as I all but sit on Elijah’s lap—and throw up a little in my mouth when I touch his greasy, mousey-brown hair.

He wraps an arm around my shoulder and tugs me closer to his side—too close for comfort. If I weren’t trying to get something out of him, I’d gut him for how touchy he always gets with me.

“We missed you out here.” His hair tickles my face as he presses his head against mine.

“I bet my right tit that’s a goddamn lie.”

Elijah reeks of weed, and I’m praying to that Virgin Mary window that I’ll get high off the smell alone. Otherwise, I’m breaking his hand for trying to reach for the tit in question. The only reason Duke—or any other guy I’ve been with—has gotten anywhere close with me was because I was impaired and willing. If I had all my faculties in place, I’m sure I’d still be a virgin.

“You got anything for me?” I ask, stopping Elijah’s hand in his tracks.

If you want to touch, you’ve got to pay up.

One of the other guys—Aaron, I think—looks at Charlie warily when she gives him her crazed “fuck me” eyes. Whatever she’s doing, it works, because he sidles her way and pulls out a ziplock bag of pills.

Damn it. Every guy knows she’s going to put out. Elijah is the idiot for trying to bark up my tree, and it’s only a matter of time before he realizes. Then I’ll be shit out of luck.

“You know I do,” Elijah whispers, kissing a path up the side of my neck while grabbing my tits. I’m so glad my thick coat is enough of a barrier to stop me from feeling the full impact of his hands.

The telltale clang of someone climbing over the fence makes me freeze. The metal clang sounds again. “Someone else is here,” I say.

Elijah shrugs, reaching for my boobs again, but I swat his hands away. We’re still sitting hip to hip, so that will have to be enough contact for the time being.

I turn toward the spot where we came from, waiting to see who else shows up. I haven’t been caught leaving school grounds before, and I’m not losing my freedom as soon as I get it. If I’m the most sober person here, chances are I can gap it and let everyone else take the fall. My heart hammers as two people walk around the corner, and it takes me a second to figure out who the newcomer is.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I throw my hand up and point to the dickhead I’ve been chaperoning all day. “Who the fuck invited you?”

Specifically, who the fuck let Kohen wear something other than his school uniform? The guy makes the shitty green blazer look good, and now he’s out here in a leather jacket, boots, and a pair of black jeans that are making his thighs look downright illegal.

The man in question pins his gaze on me, then the piece of shit glued to my side.

“I did,” Liam, the scrawny kid who’s freakishly good at calculus, says matter-of-factly before dropping down on the steps by Charlie, who is blushing like crazy at the bane of my existence.

Traitor.

“Get lost, Osman,” I growl.

Kohen looks me dead in the eye, drops his gaze to where Elijah and I are touching, and then looks down his nose at me as he says, “I think I’ll stay.”

“Get me that joint.” I slap Elijah’s chest with the back of my hand and do the universal sign for “gimme.”

Kohen and I don’t stop glaring at each other like a couple of prepubescents as Elijah grabs my medication. I narrow my eyes at Kohen when he pulls out a lighter, and the flame comes to light, reflecting off the silver rings on his fingers and the chain around his neck, and I momentarily forget about our budding fight.

I want it. I want all of them. I wonder if I can get close and try to slide a ring off his finger. Or I can try to break into his room when he’s not looking. Any one of the rings will do, but if I had a choice, I’d want the signet ring with the—he catches me staring, and I snap my attention away and snap my fingers at Elijah.

“Hold up a second,” he says, all stupid and drowsy as he fiddles with the latch of a tin container.

“Give me that.” I snatch the container away and open the lid. I grab the fattest joint I can see, then drop the rest on his lap .

He ungracefully tucks it back into the pocket of his puffer, then slides his hand underneath my coat to place it on my thigh, and a fresh bout of nausea lurches up my throat. My skin itches with the burning intensity of Kohen’s stare, and it takes physical restraint not to squirm.

I fight back the bile and slip the joint between my lips then call out, “Anyone got a light?”

“Nah, babe.” Elijah is the first to respond, squeezing my thigh like it’ll soften the blow of the fact he gave me something I can’t consume. Then he leans back on the step and gawks at the cloudless sky.

Charlie gives me a sympathetic look. The guy who offered her pills doesn’t notice me. The other three people don’t respond.

Useless. All of these idiots.

I repeat my question again, and no one but Kohen speaks up. “You deprived me of information,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. What information he’s referring to, I wouldn’t have a clue.

My lips twitch. “I’m going to deprive you of your balls if you don’t give me your lighter.” Childish insult, but whatever. Fuck him. He’s not going to ruin my first night of restricted freedom.

He scoffs, nodding at Elijah, who’s rubbing my leg—I have a feeling he’s doing it for the texture of my jeans rather than to touch me. But that doesn’t make the sensation any less disgusting.

Kohen sneers down at me, even though he’s the one who’s two steps below me. “They’d shrivel up and fall off if you go near them.”

“And I would be doing mankind a favor in the process,” I add, seeing Charlie swing her attention between the two of us. That bitch really does love drama. “Ending the Osman line? Call it charity.”

“In one night, I could have taken out your deadbeat parents.

”

My skin turns cold. He’s fucking admitting it. I was right. He burned my house down. “You keep my mother out of your mouth,” I snarl.

The corner of his lips tips up in a cruel smile. “Does that woman know how to keep things out of her mouth?” He huffs a humorless laugh as his eyes burn into me, then the hand beneath my coat. “Seems to me the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

I lurch forward, but Elijah must have regained some consciousness because he latches onto me before I can jump to my feet. “Get the fuck off me,” I screech, knocking him back.

I can’t be in the same area as these two assholes, or else I’m going to lose my mind. I pocket the joint and storm up to Kohen, who looks at me with the same vapid hatred I feel. His lips twitch as he scowls back at me, mirroring me in every way.

I want to make him pay for everything he did, but I don’t know how. It’s so fucking pathetic. There’s nothing I can do that would put any kind of dent in his world. Everything I can take from him can be replaced. No one would believe a thing I say, truth or lie. No one would care about any kind of impact he has on me. I have a jammed gun with no bullets. My only option is to throw it and hope for the best or sell it for parts.

“I don’t know what your fucking problem is or why you’ve been up my ass since grade school. But I know one thing.” My voice is full of malice, and my heart rate spikes with the adrenaline I’ve wanted to feel all night. “You will never be as good as your brother. No one will ever notice you, even if you were the last Osman.” I edge backward, toward the fence. Lowering my voice, I say, “You’re nothing, Kohen. You’re less than trash, just like the rest of us. You just don’t have drugs to blame for it.”