Sick Boys: Chapter 8

I sift through the diary, pages hanging loosely by the glue. It’s barely kept together after we raided that fucking room, but at least we got what we came for.

“Man, that Alpha Psi sorority smelled so bad.” Alistair waves his hand in front of his face. “The perfume was practically gassing people.”

“No wonder we never go to their parties,” Dylan jokes as he slouches down in his seat.

I put a finger in front of my mouth, shushing them both. They don’t like it, but I don’t care. We’ve got more pressing matters than parties at a dumb sorority.

I hold up the page that shows my face along with all the hearts and skulls that embellish it, the sight of which makes me want to pluck my own eyes out.

“Wow,” Alistair says, laughing. “She’s obsessed with you. She even drew hearts.”

No fucking way.

I flip the pages back to where two pages are completely dedicated to them.

“Us,” I say.

“Oh …” Alistair says.

She drew hearts around their faces too, so it’s not only me she has an obvious crush on.

Or had. Before she fucking stabbed me.

“So who cares?” Dylan shrugs. “Lots of girls are obsessed with us. Comes with the territory of being the rich playboy.”

They don’t get how important this is.

I lean forward in my chair. “It matters because she’s the fucking sister.” I flip through all the pages in front of them. “And she made a hate book.”

“Hate? Where?” Dylan scoffs.

I point at one of the pictures that includes all three of us. Our faces are scratched out. “There are more accusations all over the book.”

Dylan leans forward, suddenly engaged. “Shit. You mean like … implying something?”

“What else do you think I fucking mean, Dylan?” I growl.

“Holy shit,” Alistair says.

“Exactly,” I reply, throwing the book on the table in front of them. “We need to keep an eye out on her.”

“We need to know what exactly she knows,” Dylan says.

Alistair picks up the diary and sifts through it. “Did her sister tell her all those things?”

“Do I look like I know?” I bark back.

“Okay, chill, I mean, it could be worse, right?” Alistair says.

My fingers dig into the seat. “How?”

“She hasn’t gone to the police,” Dylan says.

“Yet,” Alistair adds.

“She won’t,” I growl, rubbing my chin. “I won’t fucking let her.” I make a fist and pound it onto the seat. “I don’t care what it takes. She can’t fucking tell anyone whatever the fuck she knows.” My eyes fixate on Dylan’s. “Nothing leaves this room. Nothing.”

He nods. “I know the rules.”

“If push comes to shove …” I mutter.

“It won’t,” Alistair says.

“You sure about that, Ali?” I grumble, glancing at my wound, flexing my muscles. “Because this one seems even more violent than the other.”

Suddenly, the door to our private study bursts open, and I’m about to lose my shit. “What the fuck, Jason? I told you to knock before—”

“There’s a girl at the fucking front door,” he says.

“So?” Dylan frowns. “It’s not Freaky Friday yet, tell her to come back later.”

“She said you guys were waiting for her. Her name’s Penelope.”

My eyes widen, and I almost crack the wood of the seat’s armrest.

So … she’s finally seen her room.

I’d hoped she was there when we came through the window so we could force her to give it up, but this … this is even better.

Now she’ll have to beg.

“Let her in,” I say through gritted teeth.

Jason nods and closes the door again.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Dylan whisper-yells.

“Yeah, if this is what I think it is, she’s coming for the book,” Alistair adds.

Tilting my head, I reply, “Good. I wanna see how mad she can get.” I lick my teeth and wait until Jason returns with the girl.

Penelope, Penelope … what have you gotten yourself into?

You’re about to find out how much worse things can get.

There’s a knock on the door, and Alistair quickly grabs the book and stuffs it under his shirt.

“Come in,” I say, biting my lip when the door slowly opens and behind it a girl dressed in a little black top and a checkered skirt appears. She’s still wearing the same outfit from earlier today when she chose to pierce my skin with a pen.

Dark. Tempting. Edgy.

Easily destroyed.

Just like her fucking face will be when I’m done with her.