Lost Boys (Slateview High 1)

I swallowed. “Welcoming committee?”

“Yeah. You know. Welcoming the new meat to Slateview.” His hand trailed up my stomach, under my shirt, and my skin crawled at the contact.

Oh shit. No.

This boy was like Barrett without the veneer of civility, without the mask of chivalry. As soon as that thought hit me, my blood went cold. I pushed at his chest.

“Stop! Get away from me.”

He laughed. “Nah, I don’t think so. I just told you I was the welcoming committee. And I haven’t welcomed you properly, have I?”

Someone whistled, and with dawning horror, I realized that other students were watching. Another person whooped, laughing.

“Yeah, Logan! Let’s see a little more, yeah?”

“You heard ’em.” The beefy boy leaned even closer to me, trapping me between the wall and his body. “They want a show. And I’m not sure if anybody informed you of this, but the rule at Slateview is, fresh meat does whatever it’s told.”

His hand pushed up further, and I felt a sinking, sick feeling brewing in my stomach. I knew better by now than to think anyone was going to see this and stop him. Everyone at this school had made it obvious they didn’t care what happened to me unless it was causing me suffering. I stood there, unable to move, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest, my ears ringing, as his fingers shifted even higher.

I squirmed in his grasp, shame and desperation burning through me. It was bad enough to have a boy I didn’t even know touching me like this, but he was doing it in front of other people, exposing me to them as he groped me shamelessly.

Oh God. Where will he stop? When will he stop? He wouldn’t—in front of everyone—would he?

“Please. Stop! I said stop!”

I could barely hear my own voice over the ringing in my ears and the laughter around me. The noise seemed to swell, filling my senses as Logan’s hands slid up my stomach, pushing my shirt up and over my breasts. Cold air hit the skin around my bra as rough fingers tugged at the straps, and I lost it. I could barely move with the weight of his pelvis pinning me in place, his body resting against mine, but I flailed and kicked, striking out with my fists as catcalls and whistles joined the roar of laughter—

“What. The. Fuck?”

Suddenly, Logan’s weight was off me, and he was slammed against the wall beside me. It took me a moment to figure out what the hell was going on, a moment to put together that someone had in fact stopped this boy from… from…

I blinked as I realized that Kace had Logan pressed against the wall, his hand around Logan’s throat. Misael and Bishop stood with him, eyeing the boy with the chipped tooth, their faces unreadable.

“What the fuck? I thought we were clear about what was gonna be done with little miss Princess.” Bishop’s voice had a hard edge to it. “And I don’t recall giving you permission to touch, Logan.”

Logan shrugged, moving only his shoulders since Kace still held him by the throat. But he didn’t argue with Bishop—not that I thought he could. He was big and broad-shouldered, but Kace was even bigger than he was. I wouldn’t want to try to fight the intense blond boy either.

“Must have slipped my mind, bruh. Won’t happen again.”

“Better not,” Bishop said. “You know how shit’s run around here.”

Kace tossed Logan away, shoving him so hard he almost lost his footing. He stumbled and then righted himself, shooting a glance back at me. The hallway had gone oddly quiet, but that didn’t stop Logan from giving me a smirk as he passed me by.

I swallowed, moving to bend down and pick up my things. But Misael had already grabbed them, and he held them out to me as the other two boys watched with their arms folded across their chests.

I didn’t know what to say. Should I say thank you? Should I ask them why they’d helped me when I knew for a fact that they didn’t like me? That they had… plans for me? Gratefulness warred with caution. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to act.

Misael grinned, and there was something both boyishly charming and threatening about it.

“Keep yourself outta trouble, Princess. We don’t like having to do extra work for our investments.”

Investment?

I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that, but I was too scared to ask. Whatever being an “investment” meant, was it worth it if it kept Logan’s hands off me?

“I… right. Thank you.”

I went to take my things from Misael, intent on hiding somewhere, maybe the bathroom, to calm down before having to head to class. Misael didn’t hand over my things, however. He kept hold of them as Kace came up beside me, his hand on my upper arm. Bishop looked at me, his head tilted.