Reprisal: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Montlake Prep Book 3)

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Reprisal copyright @ 2019 by Nora Cobb and Scholae Palatina Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  REVENGE: Montlake Prep Book 4

  CHAPTER 1

  Natalie

  On the sixth of January, I’m back at Montlake Academy after my uncle makes a pact with the devil for my return.

  The day before winter break, I was expelled by Principal Cromwell, accused of linking the school’s good name to an online sex scandal starring me. None of it was true, but the whole academy knows about it now, including the teachers and the parents. It was posted online and shared thousands of times. Worst of all, the page detailing my downfall appeared under search results for Uncle Phil’s company. The rumor machine doesn’t take holidays off, and the gossip floats around me as I walk down the hallways of Montlake again. I’m amused by the shocked expressions of whispering classmates. Obviously, the rumor machine missed the news flash that I was returning. It’s bittersweet seeing their pissy looks of disbelief that I’m not out of the game yet.

  Two boys are elbowing each other as I pass by, but I stare straight ahead as I walk to my locker. I’m above it all because, at this point, I simply don’t care. I know what I did and what I didn’t do. And I know better than to try and push back. In five months, I won’t have to enter this wretched place again.

  “Spread ’em, Trashalicious,” a voice shouts from down the hallway.

  It’s one of the boys who saw me with Troy in the fieldhouse last semester. Nothing happened, and he knows it, but according to the gossip, I partied with Troy and his co-captains every day of break. Supposedly, I traded oral favors for weed, allowing them to take me while the others watched. That’s the least offensive story.

  I shake my head in disgust as I open my locker and shove all my textbooks back inside. I want to say something, but I don’t. I want to point out that I hate Troy more than any horrible sick, deranged person I can think of, dead or alive. I want to point out that if I had let him touch me, there would be a video of it on someone’s phone, and immediately it would be playing on the internet. But I keep my mouth shut because they want to goad me into an argument. They want to make me angry and see me cry; get a rise out of me for cheap entertainment. Well, fuck them. Nobody cries in the halls of Montlake. That’s the first lesson I learned, and I learned it fast.

  “Hey, Trashalicious, didn’t you hear me?” The boy laughs as he takes a step forward. “I asked you a question.”

  “Richie, enough.”

  Instantly, the busy hallway is quiet, and we turn to look at the other voice. It’s Troy. He’s standing at the end of the hall, staring at my latest tormentor. Troy avoids my questioning gaze as he walks up to Richie, who’s so shocked he can’t even find the courage to laugh it off.

  “What’s up, Troy?” he asks. “I’m just having fun with everyone’s favorite girl.”

  “Yeah. And now you’re done. So fuck off, before I make you fuck off.”

  Richie looks confused as he holds his hands out wide in a helpless gesture. He looks at me as if I can explain what’s going on, but I glare at him for being crude and slam my locker shut. Richie better not pretend like I’m okay with the bullying. I’m not okay with any of it. I walk down the hall, past wide eyes and gaping mouths.

  “Are you deaf or just plain dumb?” Troy says. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Richie.”

  “I thought you had her, too.” He tries to laugh it off. “Just thought I’d get in on the fun.”

  “I’m a captain, Richie. I decide whether you get my scraps. But you steal from my plate, and I’ll fuck you up good.” Troy’s voice is unusually calm, and he makes his point clear. I’m not to be teased without his permission.

  I turn at the end of the hallway and watch him. Troy leaves the bewildered boys standing by their lockers. Troy lifts his gaze as he passes me, and I look at the numbers above the elevator. I don’t look down because that would be an admission of shame. My chin is up, and I look through him as if Troy’s of no importance in my life. But old hurts die hard. Involuntarily, my body tenses as I wait for him to make a nasty, filthy comment. I wait for him to show the other boys how it’s done. From the corner of my eye, I watch as Troy moves past me toward the stairs. He stops for a moment, and my curiosity makes me screw up. We make eye contact, and he licks his lips while giving me a leering grin.

  The elevator doors open, and I dash inside. Not caring about anyone behind me, I hit the buttons. Troy steps on, blocking the other students and trapping me inside.

  “So,” he says. “Am I going to see you later, sweet cheeks?”

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t come to my house, you pervert.” Troy has been an unwanted houseguest since his father offered to buy stock in Uncle Phil’s company. He never does anything truly awful while Uncle Phil is around, but I caught him one day peeking into my bedroom from the doorway.

  “I’ll be over for dinner,” he smiles as the elevator doors open. “And maybe dessert?” His hand slides towards my ass as I exit, and I grab it to give it a good hard twist. Shaking it out, he frowns like I shouldn’t have done that. Really?

  ***

  Jacob smiles at me as I sit down while Lucas taps on his tablet, ignoring us both. I should say something to Lucas, but Jacob moves his desk closer, until it’s against the back of my chair. I glance over my shoulder, giving him a look that makes it clear that he’s too close.

  “I don’t have room to exhale, Jacob,” I whisper as class starts.

  He scoots back a little. “I want to talk to you after school. We can go to the diner.”

  “I’m busy after school.” I toss my hair.

  He pouts, blowing out hot air. “Don’t be that way, Nat.”

  “Remember how you were grounded last year?”

  His eyes widen, and he lets out a short laugh. Jacob reaches out his hand, and we bump fists. “Welcome to the Home Alone club, Natalie. Do you have Skype?”

  “Even your grandmother has Skype,” I laugh.

  “Mr. Fleming and Ms. Page,” Ms. Petrenko stands at the whiteboard and frowns at us. “Class is starting.”

  Jacob sits back in his seat, and his feet tap on the back of my chair. I sigh and relax my shoulders, knowing that bullying will ebb and flow, but Jacob will always be the same. Calculus isn’t enough to distract me from my thoughts. What was going on with Troy? Mr. Dictator-Dick. Why was he d
efending me, even just a little, from the bottom-feeders? Of course, the Saunders have a deal with Uncle Phil to buy stocks. The beast has a piece of us, and perhaps that’s why he’s backing off. He owns me, or at least, he thinks he does.

  My chair shakes as Jacob lets out a huge yawn. He better watch it, or Ms. Petrenko will call on him. I glance over my shoulder, and Jacob’s staring at the board with heavy lids. Maybe he knows why Troy is acting so weird, because if Arielle catches him ... Lucas is still avoiding eye contact, but that’s his business. I’m nothing like Arielle. I wouldn’t do half the things she does because I’d never think of it.

  Troy and Arielle. Well, he doesn’t want that marriage, but it looks like it’s going to happen anyway. And then it hits me, the reason why Troy might be backing off a little. I know too much. His dad was decent on the surface, at least. But I met his demented mother with all her wedding cakes. She’s like Miss Havisham after a day of online shopping. And who else knows that his sister wasn’t home for Christmas? But I would never talk about what I saw in his house. At least, not in school. Who am I going to tell? Jacob and my teachers? Who do I talk to here? That must be it; the reason why Troy is backing off his cronies. Not because I might say something, but because I don’t gossip. They gossip, but it’s something I wouldn’t do.

  A loud snore from behind makes me jump in my seat.

  “Ms. Page,” says Ms. Petrenko, “would you nudge Mr. Fleming?”

  I hit Jacob on the arm, and he starts. His eyes open slowly, and he stretches like it’s okay to nap in class. Damn, I love him.

  “Welcome back from slumber time, Mr. Fleming. Would you care to come to the board?”

  With a grim face, Jacob strides obediently to the front of the room to be reprimanded. He’s showing Ms. Petrenko a lot more respect now that calculus is less of a mystery.

  “Mr. Fleming, if you get this question right, I will cancel Thursday’s pop quiz.”

  The entire class inhales on cue as Jacob takes the marker from Ms. Petrenko’s hand. Towering over her, Jacob scribbles across the board as the class watches in silence, fidgeting and praying that he’ll get it right. It’s the last term, and the teachers are making the assignments harder so we’ll have to continue to study. I watch him, solving the problem in my head, and clasp my hands together when Jacob gets it right.

  Ms. Petrenko takes the marker out of his hand. “And to think I thought you were napping, Mr. Fleming.”

  With a fun-loving grin and his dark hair tumbling into his deep brown eyes, Jacob replies, “Ms. Petrenko, I’m so much more than a jock.”

  The eye roll she gives him sends the class into fits of laughter. “You’re lucky you’re doing better than passing, Mr. Fleming.” Ms. Petrenko shakes her head. “No quiz on Thursday, class.”

  The bell chimes, and elated kids are out of their seats, out the door, and cheering in the hallway.

  “Ms. Page, can I speak to you?” Ms. Petrenko asks. “It will be quick.”

  Without a backward glance, Lucas hurries out as Jacob walks past my desk to get his books. Jacob’s fingertips brush the back of my shoulders, and I squirm with a chill. As he leaves, he smiles at Ms. Petrenko, and she playfully shakes her index finger at him. For a moment, we both watch him walk away. His tall, muscular body fills a doorway made for children, not grown men like him. Jacob senses us watching and turns to wink before he disappears down the hallway.

  Out of my daze, I hurry to stand in front of Ms. Petrenko’s desk. “You wanted to see me?”

  “I don’t want to keep you, but I heard rumors that you’re being accepted into Columbia.”

  Slowly, I nod while looking at the papers across her desk. She’ll find out the gossip eventually, so I tell her now. “Troy’s dad made a phone call.”

  Her eyebrows arch and she lowers her voice. “That’s great, Natalie. I guarantee you that ninety percent of the students had someone make a call. A lot of students have good grades, but not everyone has someone who will vouch to the school that they’re accepting the right student.”

  “I know you’re right. But I have a backup school, just in case.” It’s out of practicality, just in case Colombia turns me down because of the ugly rumors.

  “Sensible tactic, and congrats on learning how to play the game.”

  I shrug, because it’s still trial and error to me. “I guess it’s not that hard.” I screw up my face. “I’m making it up as fast as I can.”

  “You couldn’t ask someone?”

  “I do, but they’ve been doing it for so long that they take it for granted. They’ll tell me stuff but miss the nuances.”

  Ms. Petrenko nods once and then her tone is solemn. “Until you have that acceptance letter in hand, things are still unpredictable. Keep working at it, kid.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Natalie

  “Natalie,” Uncle Phil calls up the staircase, “Troy is here.”

  I can tell by the tone in Uncle Phil’s voice that he’s tired of Troy’s frequent and unannounced visits to our house. On my bed, I roll over onto my side and look at Jacob, who’s lying on his back, scrolling through his phone.

  “WTF?” he mouths, giving me a dirty look like I invited the boy over on a Sunday afternoon.

  I shrug my shoulders. “You better put on your shoes, or they’ll think we’re up here having sex.”

  “That horse ran out of the barn a while ago. Don’t you think?”

  I punch Jacob on the shoulder and then check my nails to see if I broke one. “What does that even mean, you dork?”

  Sitting up, Jacob pulls on his Timberlands as I jump up and smooth down the wrinkled duvet cover.

  “I’ll go down first, okay?”

  Jacob shrugs his shoulder. “Okay, but he’s not going to mess with us. He wouldn’t dare talk.” He catches the pleading look on my face. Troy won’t cross Jacob, but he’ll blab to Arielle. “Okay. To make you happy,” he says, “I’ll count to fifty then come down.”

  I kiss his forehead, and Jacob pulls me in for another kiss, deeper this time. I taste the hint of mint on his breath from the gum he spat out earlier. Our tongues twist together as I wrap my arms around his neck. He pulls me down onto his lap, and I sink against him as a tingle starts between my legs.

  “Natalie! Now!” Uncle Phil’s voice jerks me back to reality.

  I yank away. “I better go down. Uncle Phil gets a look on his face when he’s left alone with Troy for too long.”

  Jacob smacks my bottom, and I retaliate by messing up his hair. He grabs for me, but I dodge him. I run out the bedroom door, and down the stairs. An exasperated Uncle Phil is standing next to Troy by the bottom step. The first few times, he came by with his dad to discuss a few more details of the sale. Mr. Saunders, I mean Greg, is likable, and he hasn’t changed since the first time we met him. It’s a shame that Troy’s not like his dad, but Greg has a grueling travel schedule, so they’re not together a lot. We have our theories as to why Troy has been coming over to the house more often. Uncle Phil thinks it’s to avoid his mother, and I think it’s to torment me in private.

  “Hey, Troy,” I say with a fixed smile. “Here again? Let’s go into the kitchen.”

  “Good,” sighs Uncle Phil. “I’ll be in my office. Nat, why don’t you order lunch?”

  I nod. It’s funny how Uncle Phil assumes that no one ever cooks in a kitchen. I pull open the fridge door and hand Troy bottled water. It’s his preferred drink, and I hate that I’m learning things about him.

  “Funny,” I say as he takes it. “I didn’t realize before that you don’t drink alcohol.”

  “Don’t want the extra calories, so I stick to clear water,” he explains.

  “Yeah, it’s harder to add extra stuff to clear water.”

  His ears turn red, and Troy shifts his gaze toward the breakfast table. Silently, he drinks a few sips before sitting down. I watch him, wondering how long he plans to stay.

  “Why are you here?” I ask.

  “Just here to m
ake sure things go as planned.”

  “What things?”

  He smiles nastily. “Whatever you want, sweet cheeks. I’m the man.”

  Yuck. Does he know we’re not friends or lovers, and will never be? Sure, Troy got the low-ranking bullies off my back, but he’s the one who put them there in the first place. I’m just about to ask Troy if he’s here for a good reason when the sound of pounding footsteps comes down the stairs.

  It’s so loud and apparent that someone else is in the house. Troy looks at me with wide, curious eyes, and I march out of the kitchen and into the hall. I glare at Jacob as he comes barreling down the last few steps like a monster truck flattening a roadblock.

  “Thanks,” I say, voice thick with sarcasm.

  “What?” He looks at me with a clueless scowl. “I counted twice.”

  “Fleming,” Troy smirks as he pokes his head out of the kitchen archway. “I didn’t know you were upstairs.”