Sick Boys: Chapter 2

Weeks later

“Are you sure about this?” my mother asks as my father sets my bags on my bed.

“Definitely,” I reply.

Mom throws me a concerned look. “But you know the history of this university…”

I know what she’s getting at. But she won’t say it out loud.

This was my sister’s university. The place she once called home.

And now it’ll be my home too for the time being.

Mom suddenly gives me a big hug. “I just want you to be okay.”

“I know,” I reply.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” she adds.

“I’m not gonna change my mind,” I reply, glancing at my dad, who’s been awfully quiet.

She used to let me leave so easily, but now? It’s like she’s sticking on me like tape.

Finally, she pulls away, allowing me to breathe again.

“And if you need us, call, okay?” Mom adds, grabbing my shoulders.

“Yeah,” I reply. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I just need to get used to this place, that’s all. Piece of cake.”

She sighs out loud and kisses me on the cheek.

“C’mon,” my dad says, and he tugs at her arm to get her to move. “Let’s go so she can get settled in.”

“If anything happens, text me,” Mom reiterates. “Immediately.”

She must be panicking that I might do the same as my sister, and I get that. “Don’t worry, I will.”

I nod as Dad physically drags her out of the room and shuts the door. “Good luck, Penelope,” he yells. “You know I’m just one call away.”

I grin and shake my head. Obviously, my mother’s been having a difficult time knowing I wanted to go to Spine Ridge. After what my sister went through, this should have been the last university on my list.

But I’m not here just to study.

I’m here for revenge.

I grab my sister’s diary and open it up, sifting through the pages, picking apart all the names, the images, the text she wrote alongside their faces. I’ve imprinted everything in my brain to remember everyone who ever harmed her.

I will fucking find them. And when I do, there’s gonna be hell to pay.

Noise across the street distracts me, and I walk up to the window. A bunch of guys throw beer at each other outside a dorm. One of them stumbles over the puddle and falls on his ass, and they all pour their beer over his face, then laugh.

What a ridiculous ritual. Obviously only something a fraternity could come up with.

I roll my eyes and turn to unpack instead.

Suddenly, my door swings open, and a girl walks in, dragging her suitcases behind her. Her curly black hair whips over her shoulders, sweat dripping down her forehead as she plops the bags down onto the second bed in the room.

“Hi!” she says. “Sorry for the rude entry. Jesus, this building has one too many staircases.” An awkward laugh ensues.

I grin and offer her a hand. “You’re my new roommate. Name’s Penelope.”

“Penelope … nice!” She shakes my hand. “I’m Kayla Pearce. So this is your first semester here at Spine Ridge U, too, right?” she asks. “I didn’t see you at the orientation.”

I make a face. “Yeah. I transferred late, so I missed it.”

Her face pops. “Oh really? Before even starting at the other university? I didn’t even know that was possible.”

I shrug. “This university has … more opportunities.” I clear my throat before I say too much.

“Well, it was a good decision because now you’re my roomie.” She winks. “And I already know you and I are gonna be besties.”

I smile at her. “You sure about that? I can get mad weird.”

She laughs. “Even better.” She empties her suitcase, and all the dresses and pants tumble out in one big pile. “Wow, I really brought too many clothes.”

“Never too many clothes, right?” I wink.

She smirks. “See, you get it. Crystal always tells me my suitcase might explode, but I know how to fucking pack.”

“Crystal?” I muse. “Another roomie, or…?”

“My best friend at this university,” she replies as I tug at the zipper of my suitcase. “We met a few weeks ago at the bonfire.”

Bonfire—

I rip open the zipper so wildly it breaks off.

Kayla comes to stand beside me. “Oh, well, I’ve got a small repair kit. Maybe we can fix that.”

“It’s fine,” I lie, quickly chucking it in the trash. “It was about to give out anyway.” I grab some clothes and hang them in the closet to try to get my mind off the word she said. “So best friend, huh? I’d love to meet her.”

“Maybe we have some of the same classes.” Her eyes glimmer as she grabs her schedule. “Wanna compare?” She gasps and grabs her phone. “Before I forget, can I have your number? I mean, since we’re roomies and all, we might as well hang out.”

“Sure.” I grab my phone and give it to her. “Go ahead.”

She enters her number into mine while I enter mine into hers.

“There,” she says, handing it back to me.

I give her phone back too and grab my schedule. We place them both on the table next to each other. Her courses are similar but not the same. Only a few overlap later in the week.

And then I check today.

My eyes almost bulge out of my skull. I have a class in about ten minutes. How did I not know this?

“Oh my God.” I quickly grab what I need and shove it into my backpack.

“Late?” Kayla asks.

I nod. “I’ll talk to you later!”

“Was nice meeting you. Good luck on your first class!” she yells as I rush out the door.

Of course I’m late again. Typical. I already missed the orientation because I was too late applying to the university. I can’t fucking miss my first class too.

I guess that’s what you get for switching universities at the last minute.

Though it’s nice that I’ve already made a new friend.

I don’t make those very easily.

On my way out of the building, several students wave at me and say hi, so I quickly say hi back and hurry. I’ll stop and chat later because I don’t have enough time right now.

Class is almost starting, and I have to run all the way to the other side of campus.

I should really get a bike.

I dash across the pavement, ignoring the noise coming from the fraternity across the street, and head straight for the big buildings.

A lot of students sit outside in the grass, eating a quick breakfast, talking with each other, and playing games and football. And then there’s me, running around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to find the entrance.

When I finally make it, I pause to catch my breath with my hands on my knees, sweat dripping down my back. It takes me a few seconds before I can finally look around. It’s as gorgeous inside as it looked outside, with wooden panels and large paintings all around, old oak doors leading into classrooms, big, wooden, circular staircases, and giant glass panes to show off the garden view.

Lots of money flows into this university—that much is clear.

But it’s also easy to tell, judging from the Prada, Gucci, and Louboutin that some of the students around me are wearing.

I feel wholly out of place in my Diesel jeans here.

Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I make my way to the classroom, checking my notes again and again to make sure I’m going the right way. I’ve managed to keep the panic at bay for a while now, but it’s slowly creeping up on me now that I’m running late. Because if there’s anything I don’t do, it’s being late.

I got that trait from my father, who’s punctual to the littlest of details.

Hurrying through the hallways, I pass people so quickly I almost bump into them, and I apologize profusely as I run to the room I’m supposed to be in.

However, the hallway is blocked off right where I need to be.

I peer over the students gathered around.

One guy throws books at another guy while that one simply laughs and shrugs. But the first one doesn’t quit and suddenly lunges at the guy. The whole crowd erupts into gasps and laughter, egging them on as they begin to throw punches at each other, gripping hair and tearing clothing into shreds.

Suddenly, behind the ruckus, a familiar bunch emerges.

The three boys who put my nerves on edge.

Dylan, Alistair … and Felix.

An air of darkness follows them wherever they go, like a cloud of rain in the dusk.

As they walk down the hall, Dylan casually throws a lighter into the air and continuously catches it while Alistair throws his backpack over his shoulder. But Felix keeps his hands tightly secured in his pockets, his white shirt barely able to cover his bulging pecs and biceps.

They’re headed straight toward the fight with no intention of stopping anytime soon.

And even though half the crowd begins to disperse as they come closer and closer, the fighting doesn’t seem to stop … nor do the boys.

As Felix passes the two fighting, one of them bumps into him, and he punches him sideways so hard into the wall he slumps down to the ground, groaning loudly.

Felix doesn’t even break out into a sweat and tucks his hands right back into his pocket.

Everyone in the hallway has gone quiet as if collective terror is infecting everyone while they all step aside to make room for the boys walking in our direction.

Except me.

I stand still in the middle of the hallway until Felix is right in front of me.

Still, I don’t move.

He tilts his head at me, the muscles in his neck straining as his nose twitches. Up close, his features, like his square jaw and pronounced cheekbones, become really defined, but that chilling stare gets me the most. Half-mast eyes, white underneath his pupils, like nothing could ever fucking bother him … until now.

“Move.”

In his gruff voice, that one word could make anyone’s skin erupt into goose bumps.

But not me.

I tilt my head the same way he did.

His eye begins to twitch.

Seconds tick by like minutes while I can practically feel people’s gazes boring holes into my back. But I don’t care. I’ve lived with stares and laughter my whole life, so I’m not afraid of bullies anymore. No one can hurt me if I don’t let them.

And especially not guys like them.

Dylan frowns at me and smirks. “Might wanna listen to him.”

I ignore him and keep my gaze on Felix, who refuses to look away, just like me.

He’s much taller than I am, and he physically has to bend over to get on my level. Too close for comfort as he leans in to stare at me.

“I said move.”

No wonder my sister wrote about him in her diary.

I lick my lips and say, “Make me.”

His nostrils flare. He leans in even closer until he’s beside my face and breathing into my neck, and he whispers, “Don’t tempt me to twist your fucking nipples because I will do it in front of everyone here… Penelope.”

My eyes widen as his flicking fingers inch upward, close enough to push through on his threat.

But that’s not what frightens me the most.

My feet instinctively step away to create distance between us as my veins run icy cold.

His fingers are still in the correct position. The left side of his lip creeps up momentarily, only to sink right back into that deadly, emotionless expression he wears.

His hands lower, and he shoves me farther out of the way, with his buddies following suit as they saunter down the hallway like they own the place.

And all I can do is stare at these killer boys because …

How does he know my name?