“Hey. Chill. We were already together at Todd’s townhouse for some beers, and we got to talking. Your name will still be on the project. No big deal that you haven’t done as much work.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. “I’ve done a ton of work. All the spreadsheets, all the code—”
They aren’t listening. In fact, they raise their voices to drown me out again as they decide to revisit the profit margins on the t-shirts.
“Didn’t someone do the research on cost? Where’s that sheet?” Todd asks.
“I did the analysis,” I say, rigid with frustration.
“Good girl. Upload that, so we can take a look.”
A shadow looms above me. My gaze jerks upward.
“Tell them to fuck off.” Shane speaks so low that for a moment I’m not sure I’ve heard him correctly.
I ignore him, sticking with calm, and try again to make myself heard. “I’m not really comfortable with being cut out of meetings. We all have to do that peer review at the end. How are you guys planning to rate me on my presentation skills when I haven’t had a chance to explain the work I’ve done?”
“We’re not. You’re a freshman. You shouldn’t even be in this class,” Todd says with a scowl.
“I did the pre-reqs as AP classes back in—”
“Just upload the product research,” he says, cutting me off.
I shake my head, my heart pounding. “I want to present it, as an equal member of the team.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Todd sneers. “Now just upload everything you’ve got right now, or we will sink you in the review and tell Smith-Hall you didn’t contribute to the project at all.”
My stomach twists into knots. Impotent rage makes me feel like I may vomit. This can’t be happening. When I lift my fingers to the keys, they shake from the adrenaline rush.
Shane’s big hand plucks the laptop off the table and turns it around so the camera’s on him. “Are you for real? Did you just gang up on a teenage girl and threaten to tell the teacher on her for not helping you? What kind of fucking pussies are you?”
A shocked silence follows.
After a beat, Shane reads their names out loud from the screen. His voice is so menacing and deep he could be a wolf growling. “You boys have heard of the pit, right? Where douchebags are turned into ground beef? Expect to find yourselves there soon if you act on the threats you just made.”
His stony expression and everything about the way he looks and speaks has cowed them into speechlessness, something I’ve never seen from these guys.
Shane flips the screen down with a snap and sets it back on the table. Then he whips out his phone and starts texting.
For several seconds I’m frozen, then I grab his arm. “Hey, um—”
He looks at my hand and then at my face. “Hey yourself. If you want to put a hand somewhere on my body, go lower.”
I withdraw it like I’ve been burned. He may have defended me, but it’s apparently not an invitation to be friends.
“What’s the pit? Did you make that up?”
Inside, I’m horrified but also fascinated. Is there really a place where men who step out of line are brought down by some form of dark vigilante justice? I know it’s wrong, but a little part of me enjoys the idea.
Shane exhales a chuckle. “If I were lying, do you think they’d call my bluff?”
Yes, they might, I think nervously as he continues to lean over his phone.
When he looks up, his expression is serious. “Get into the project folder or wherever you uploaded your files to and delete them all before those assholes get a chance to download them.”
“I—why? I have to participate.”
“It’s your leverage. Do it now,” he says, yanking the screen up.
