The Present
I released a deep audible breath and glanced moodily at my bedroom door. The entire frame was vibrating from the noise of the monster sound system downstairs.
THUMP, THUMP, THUMP. Even the pencils in the organizer, which sat on my desk, were rattling.
I was attempting to study for a Physics test and was struggling to commit any of my notes to memory. I hated noise on a normal day, but when I was working, I needed dead quiet. How many more times did I have to say it before I got the message through their thick skulls? Who are they, you may ask? My ignorant foster brothers, who clearly had a death wish.
Our foster mother, Ma, was away for the weekend, hence the backyard blowoutfuckingwith my cramming session.
I could go down there and rip the plug out of the socket, but the possible repercussions ofthoseactions just weren’t worth the headache. Everyone knew it was social suicide to lock horns with the Sawyer boys.
Hudson Gage, Phoenix Carter, and Reed Prescott had decided to celebrate their first few weeks at college with a huge get-together at our house. And yes, it was a party, I got that, but did the musichaveto be so loud? I was surprised the neighbors hadn’t called the cops, especially Mrs. Murphy, the nosy old bat. She was a curtain twitcher whose house overlooked our backyard.
The inconvenient uproar, which also included loud talking, shouts, and laughter, was having a serious negative effect on my brain. Cliched, I know, but I could hardly hear myself think. I was surprised, as how could anyone communicate through that much drum and bass?Pfft, silly Harper, no one was there for the stellar conversation. It was all about my foster brothers getting their dicks sucked, and I meant that in both the figurativeandliteral sense.
Considering they were only in their first year at Epic Heights and at the bottom of the food chain, it seemed they had already made an impact. Students,wastedstudents, littered the yard and house; the volume of people out there proving their popularity status was already thriving. And why shouldn’t that surprise me? When they’d graduated from Harbor Heights High School, I’d had no doubts that their fan clubs would follow them. The Sawyer Brothers (as they were nicknamed) were royalty no matter where they went. I just hadn’t expected it to happen so early during their first semester at college.
The literal element of my dick sucking comment didn’t need a footnote, as the number of hook-ups they’d had in the last week proved they were worse in college than they had been in high school. Either that or college girls were easier. Fricking man-whores, well, apart from Hudson, who had reformed his player ways. Hud was now dating my friend Molly and was as wifed up as a guy could get.
As if reading my mind, my iPhone beeped asanothermessage from Mols appeared on the screen.Are you coming down or what?I could sense the impatience seeping from my cell.
I released the death grip I had on my pen and placed the lid back on before slotting it back into my desk organizer. I was now a junior in high school and intended to work hard, but how could I study with the commotion coming from downstairs? Well, that and Molly’s constant interruptions. She was desperate to get me back into the swing of things, but the shit that kicked off last year had put me off partying for good.
Sorry. I just need to finish this paper.I thumbed back, stalling for time. If Molly came upstairs, she might bring reinforcements, and I couldn’t deal with any more seniors in my personal space. Molly was the only one I liked at The Heights.
Cash has been asking after you.
I rolled my eyes at that one.She’d been trying to set me up with Cash Ryan all summer. I knew it was because he’d become chummy with Hudson. They were taking the same Sports Management Degree in college. Molly wanted to do that double date shit, something else that wasn’t my scene; I was more of a loner.
Another song started up, and the beat was louder than the last one. The music they were listening to sucked ass big time.
I eyed my scribbled Physics notes, frustration rolling through my bones. Someone was going to die.
Due to our foster mother’s impromptu trip, the boys had the perfect opportunity to misbehave, something they excelled at. I’d managed to avoid them most of the time. They’d commandeered the den that day as couch commandos playing Xbox and watching porn. They’d also been smoking weed, and I had to go in there to open the windows as the stench started to infiltrate the rest of the house. When Reed had told me to relax and offered me a drag, Phoenix had laughed, saying, “She’s too much of a goodie-goodie to take a hit.” That had resulted in me flipping them all off and slamming out of the room.
Don’t get me wrong, I cared about my brothers in a strange, untrusting, stilted way, but they still rattled my cage. What could I say? I’d been let down before. But then again, so had they. The Sawyer boys also had baggage and were not strangers to the harsher side of the social care system. But the guys were tight now; they all had badass matching wolf tattoos on their shoulders. I had nothing, another reminder of how I didn’t fit in.
The sound of breaking glass, followed by a loud male bellow,echoedup into the night’s sky from outside my window. It was followed by more shouting and raucous laughter, all of which got on my lastfuckingnerve.
Pushing to my feet, I straightened my T-shirt and redid the top button on my denim shorts. This was war. Pulling on my Chucks, I fanned back my hair and prepared myself for action. I could be an annoying little bitch when I wanted to be, and if they didn’t keep it the fuck down, I would do my best to cock-block every one of their sorry asses, even Hudson’s. Molly and I were close and had made a"chicks before dicks"pact the previous year. If my eldest foster brother was a shit to me and I told his better half, she’d cold-shoulder him in a heartbeat. A smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I thought of how pissy Hudson was when he wasn’t getting any. There was nothing worse than a dose of blue balls when you were in a committed relationship. Not that I knew what one ofthoselooked like.
I glanced down at my feet and then to the corner of my room where the heels Molly had lent me for the party that night lay. They were gold strappy numbers and looked as uncomfortable as fuck. Molly was trying to make me more feminine. The dress she had given me was still hanging in my closet. It showed way too much flesh, and I preferred to cover up. I had scars, you see, both inside and out.
More whoops of excitement and shrill giggling spiralled up the staircase, and the front doorslammedagain. How many people had they invited? Our driveway was covered with cars. Not good considering most of the guests were already shitfaced on Ma’s liquor. Fucking freeloaders.
“Hudson! One-Two!” I heard Reedhollerfrom the backyard. Moving to my window, I peeled back the drapes to see a group of wasted jocks, passing a football backwards and forwards. If they smashed anything in our small garden, Ma would kick their asses.
Wrinkling my nose, I noticed the fire pit had been lit. That was another reason why I didn’t want to be out there. A bonfire on a beach in the distance was one thing, but anything burning near our house was tempting fate. Fire both terrified and amazed me at the same time. What can I say, we had a love-hate type of relationship.
Scanning the yard, I could see that there appeared to be a mixture of college kidsandhigh schoolers. I spotted Cash, who was playing ball with my brothers and another couple of guys I didn’t recognize. He was stunning to look at, with golden hair, good-looking boyish features, and a typical hot jock bod. He used to be into Molly until Hudson put a stop to that. Cash also dated the most popular girl in high school, Tate Parker. It was an on-and-off thing, but they were always the talk of the school. Tate was now in France, which meant that he was single again.
My eyes narrowed as I saw the epic bitch that was Storm Summers sitting with Molly on the yard wall by Ma’s azaleas. She was staring into the phone Mols was holding, drinking, and cackling into her hand like the witch she was. Storm was wearing black Nike Pro shorts, the ones that gave her a major camel toe and a green sports bra. Who wore that type of shit to a party?
Storm’s father was Dominic Summers, the Major of Newport, and they were loaded. Shouldn’t she have been wearing Dior or some shit like that? I knew my designer labels, as my real mom used to wear couture all the time when she was alive.
The two girls had just finished filming what I assumed was a TikTok. I hated social media. Insecure idiots posting random shit about their lives that no one gave a flying shit about. What’s the point?
Bullshit. All of it.
