Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Truth or dare?” she asks.
“Dare.”
She eyeballs Micah and licks her lips, and already she looks a little drunk. “I dare you to swim with me.”
The guys hoot and holler while I bite my lip and consider it. It’s not like we didn’t do this dozens of times over the summer. Sybil is already running down to the pond, stripping off her shirt and shorts along the way. “You can leave your bra and panties on,” she calls over her shoulder.
I chug the rest of my beer for liquid courage and trail after her, stripping off my sweater and then my skirt, leaving them next to hers. I imagine everyone is watching us as I push my way into the water, but my head is fuzzy, and I can’t really seem to care what they think right now.
Sybil squeals when she sees that I’ve joined her, and soon, some of the guys start diving in too. Before long, her lips are locked with Micah’s, and I don’t really know what to do with myself. The pond is too cold to be enjoyable, and I’m already shivering and feeling sick to my stomach from the beer, I think. When someone grabs me from behind and spins me around, I can’t seem to react as fast as I should.
“Hey, slut.” Ethan grins down at me.
“Fuck you.” I try to push him away, but he’s too heavy, and I feel like I’m moving in slow motion. I don’t understand what’s happening, but something isn’t right. My body is too sluggish. I’ve been drunk before, but this is something different and terrifying.
“Quit teasing me,” Ethan growls. “I know you want this.”
Before I can protest, he smears his wet, sloppy lips all over my face, attempting to kiss me as I try to fight him off. Nobody seems to notice, and I don’t know what to do. Screaming for help feels too dramatic, but I don’t want this disgusting oaf touching me.
“Get off me.” I hiss, shoving him with all my might.
He barely budges, and that’s when I know I’m on my own. I try to jam my knee into his groin but even that requires too much effort. So instead, I lean in and bite down on his shoulder until he screams like the little bitch he is.
“What the fuck?” He shoves me away from him, and once my balance is gone, I can’t even seem to tread water.
“What happened?” Josh asks.
“Little bitch bit me. She’s into some freaky shit.”
“Stella?” Sybil calls out from behind me as I attempt to drag my useless body to shore. I don’t even realize that I’m not moving until Micah puts an arm around me and hauls me up, allowing me to take in a long breath.
“What the hell just happened?” Sybil appears in front of me with wide, panicked eyes.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I feel weird.”
“I think she’s drunk.” Micah observes.
“She’s only had two beers,” Sybil protests.
Regardless, they help me back onto dry land, only to discover that my clothes are missing. Sybil mumbles something about Louisa, but I’m only picking up every few words. I can barely keep my eyes open, and now I can’t even stand on my own.
“We need to get her back,” Sybil says. “Micah, can you give her your shirt?”
I try to protest until I realize that I’m only in my bra and panties. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, my delusions take on a whole other level of scary when I hear the furious voice from behind me.
“What the hell is going on here?”
“Holy shit! Run!”
Numerous footsteps scatter into the distance as Mr. Carter’s voice explodes through the trees. “Party’s over. Everyone back to campus, now!”
“Crap.” Sybil and Micah utter in unison as they support my lifeless body between them. I realize I’m holding them back and they are going to get into trouble because of me.
I try to tell them to go, but it comes out as gibberish.
“Sybil, Stella.” Sebastian appears in front of us, his eyes narrowed in on me.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. C,” Sybil apologizes. “I’m trying, but I think Stella’s too drunk to move.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
SEBASTIAN
THERE ARE expectations for how situations like this should be handled at Loyola Academy. If I was doing my job, I would take Stella straight to the school medical office, where they could observe her until morning. Upon which, she would be questioned and most likely suspended. Loyola has an uneasy track record of making examples of students like Stella. Students who haphazardly expose the ugly side of this school. Feeding her to the wolves and leaving her to fend for herself might be the smarter option in this case, but I refuse to do that.
Stella is barely coherent as Jennifer examines her on my living room sofa. I’m breaking more rules than I can even count right now, but all I can think about is beating the ever-loving shit out of whoever did this to her.