Bitter (A Dark High School Bully Romance)

Dad pats my shoulder fondly before he shuts off the car and climbs out. I smile a little when I get out myself. He grabs my bag and heads toward the front door, crunching through the front yard, and I follow just outside his footsteps so I can crunch, too.

I’ve been feeling independent and almost grown-up at school, but the minute Dad swings open the front door for me to cross the threshold, I’m transported straight back to who I was before I got on that plane at the beginning of the school year. I step over our worn-out welcome mat and onto the hardwood floors of my early childhood.

Immediately, I’m struck by the sheer amount of noise.

All four of my brothers are in the living room, screaming at some sort of sports thing on TV. My mom has the radio playing in the kitchen while she cooks something that’s sizzling loudly on the stove. Mom got a dog once I left, and he’s barking at her while she waggles some food above his head.

“Home sweet home,” I sigh as Dad shuts the door behind us.

At the sound of my muttered voice Caleb looks up, sees me, grins, and vaults himself over the back of the couch, making my other brothers cry out. He rushes toward me and, before I can react, catches me up in a bone-crushing hug that transitions smoothly into a headlock.

“Caleb!” I yell, adding to the noise of the house.

Mom finally gives her dog a piece of whatever food she’s been teasing him with and wipes her hands on her thighs as she lays eyes on me too.

“Alex! My baby girl’s finally home!”

“Your baby girl’s been pretending to be a boy,” Caleb laughs, attempting to give me a noogie—but I wriggle out of his grasp and flit away, toward the kitchen.

Mom also grabs me in a hug, but this one doesn’t hurt. I melt into her. She’s short, stocky, almost like a pillow, and she’s so comforting and familiar. She runs her hands over my short hair. Suddenly, Caleb’s words finally find their way into my brain, and I whirl to face him when Mom lets go of me.

“What do you mean?” I demand, too shocked to feel anything else. This secret, my secret, isn’t something I was expecting to come up.

But Caleb just eyes me pointedly.

“I found out about Bleakwood,” he says mockingly, then adds, “Please, Alex, it took like a five-minute Google search.”

I stand frozen in my spot.

My other three brothers—Blake, Spencer, and Mason—have climbed over the back of the couch and are heading toward the kitchen, grinning.

“Yeah,” Blake says. He’s the oldest of us at 22, but the shortest of the boys. Built like Mom, he’s broad-shouldered and wide, with a round face and unruly blonde hair. “All-boys school, right? How d’you manage that?”

“She got a scholarship,” Mom says proudly, ruffling my short hair affectionately this time.

I look back at her, the shock fading from surprise to disbelief. “You … you don’t care that I’m pretending to be a boy?”

I was sure she’d make me come home if she found out. So sure that I’ve been avoiding the few phone calls she’s attempted over the last weeks, sure that as soon as I heard her familiar voice I’d feel compelled to tell her everything.

Compelled to tell her something that apparently wasn’t as shocking for her as it has been for me.

“No,” she replies as she heads back to the stove. “Honestly, I’m glad you got yourself into a good school. Your brothers are always breaking things—”

“—not me!” interjects Spencer, pushing his shaggy blonde bangs away from his face.

“—and they’re draining our money ‘til we’re flat broke,” Mom continues conversationally, a smile in her voice. “You’ll probably get into a great college off this Bleakwood thing.”

I should be thrilled that they’re not going to force me to leave Bleakwood, but instead I feel something more like disappointment. All this time I’ve carefully hidden this part of my life, and the first people to find out about it … don’t even care.

I’m not allowed to wallow in my self-pitying thoughts for long.

Mason grabs me from behind and lifts me up, half-tossing me to Blake, who puts me in a half-nelson and spins me toward Spencer. Spencer reaches for my ribs and starts to tickle me, but they’re still bruised, so his fingertips just brushing against them sends pain shooting up my sides. I kick out reflexively and connect with his chest.

“Ow!” he yells, stumbling back.

“Don’t touch my ribs!” I scream, but Mason slips into Spencer’s place and tickles me harder, ignoring the kicks I deliver to his knees. “Stop! It hurts!”

“I’m just tickling you!” Mason yells over my shouts. “Besides, you’re a boy now, right?”