The Angels: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Raven River Academy Book 1)

  The Angels

  Raven River Academy

  Ruby Vincent

  Published by Ruby Vincent, 2020.

  Copyright © 2020 by Ruby Vincent

  Cover Design: Enchanting Covers

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Keep In Touch

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chapter One

  Scattered trash rolled through the parking lot. I pictured a stooped Asian man sweeping it up with a broom whose bristles were bent and frayed. He lifted his head to beam at me and ask if he should ring up my Nerds and cream soda or if I’d surprise him with a new sugary treat today.

  I blinked and Mr. Han was gone.

  That’s all it was. A memory.

  I’d certainly seen him in that very position enough times. Cleaning, sweeping, tidying, and re-tidying the store his immigrant parents bought with the last bit of change in their pockets. He used to tell me their story as I slid crumpled bills under the partition. His parents worked from sunup to sundown to build a business they would pass down on to him, and when the time came, he’d pass it to his daughter.

  My eyes traced the angel wings graffitied on the boarded windows.

  That time never came.

  The light turned green and my uncle took off, leaving the street corner and Han’s closed grocery store behind. I watched it through the window until it was a speck in the distance, just to make myself feel worse.

  “—no running, no loud music, no phones at the dinner table, and no— Ember? Ember!”

  I jerked. “Huh? Oh, sorry, Aunt Violet. What were you saying?”

  She shot me a withering glare in the rearview mirror. “We’ll also need to address your manners, I see. It’s incredibly rude to ignore people when they’re speaking to you.”

  “I wasn’t ignoring you. I just... got distracted for a moment,” I said. “Tell me again.”

  Violet sniffed. That wrinkled-nose glare had been etched in her face since the judge told her it was either their home or foster care and the streets. She never wanted kids either birthed, adopted, fostered, or left in a basket on her doorstep, but I had a feeling she was wishing she went with all of the above and filled her home with dozens of children so she could’ve reasonably said there was no room for me.

  As it stood, they lived in a mansion right across town and refusing to take us in wouldn’t have looked good to the gossipy harpies at the country club, and nothing mattered more than what they thought of her.

  “As I was saying,” she continued. “If you’re going to live in our home, you’ll abide by our rules. There is no running, no loud music, no phones at the dinner table, and no boys in the house. We have breakfast, lunch, and dinner together and I expect you to be on time for meals. You have a nine o’clock curfew and you must let me know if you’re leaving the house and where you’ll be. Although, I feel it’s better you stay inside until you leave for Raven River. Understood?”

  “Yes, Aunt Violet.”

  She nodded stiffly. “Good. Now, tell your brother what I said.”

  I glanced to my left. Eli was reading his book, eyes zipping across the page, and little pink tongue poking out. He was deep in the good part and wouldn’t thank me for interrupting him.

  I did anyway. I tapped his shoulder and he raised his head, brows wrinkling.

  “I love you,” I signed.

  The little brat rolled his eyes and went back to reading.

  I tapped him again. “I love you, jerk.”

  His sweet, round face crinkled in amusement.

  “I love you too,” he signed back.

  I let him go back to his book, not bothering to relay the rules. My brother wasn’t going to be running, playing loud music, talking on any phone, or bringing people over. You needed to have friends and/or dates for the latter. And neither of us had any of those.

  “What did he say?” Violet demanded. “Does he understand the rules? Make sure he understands.”

  “He understands just fine. Eli has no issues with comprehension,” I replied, getting the distinct feeling this wouldn’t be the first time I’d have to check her for treating my brother like he was remedial. “But while we’re on the subject of Eli, did you start on the list I gave you? The door lights, phone signalers, new smoke alarms and carbon monoxide detectors?”

  My uncle spoke for the first time since we drove away from the courthouse. “We won’t be needing any of that. You and Eli leave for Raven River in four weeks. I’ve been assured by the headmistress that the school is deaf-accessible.”

  “How so?” I stuck my head through their seats. “Does the school have lighted smoke alarms in every room? Will they provide a notetaker or interpreter? Do his teachers know not to turn away from the class when they’re speaking? And what about—”

  “I’m certain they have everything he requires,” Uncle Harrison broke in. “This isn’t Wesley High. Raven River is a top institution that you both were lucky to get into. We’re paying a small fortune for you and your brother to attend, so you’ll both make the most of it.”

  I bit hard on my lip, holding in my retort. You’re paying a small fortune to get rid of us. Don’t act like you’re doing us some favor putting us in a year-round boarding school.

  “I’d like to speak to the headmistress myself,” I said instead. “Get an idea of what they have available to Eli so he can be prepared.”

  “She hardly has time to go over every little thing with you,” Violet scoffed. “She’s a busy woman.”

  Not bothering to argue, I sat back and pulled out my headphones. There was undoubtedly a number for the school in the brochure my uncle gave us. I’d call later.

  The catchy, thumping beat of a K-Pop song filled my ears as I tried to push thoughts of the last month from my mind.

  It didn’t work.

  It’s strange how the brain works. Its power is unparalleled in the whole of human history. How it can make us believe things that aren’t true. See things that aren’t there. Feel things that aren’t real.

  I still felt the sharp pain from stubbing my toe on the dresser as I left my room that morning. I heard the echo of my cries, calling for Mom when an empty kitchen and bare dining table greeted me. I saw the steam rising from the mug as I made my own coffee. I felt hardwood beneath my feet as I climbed the stairs, entered my parents’ room, and found the closet and drawers empty, and the dried wax sticking in the carpet from the candle knocked over in their haste to leave. But clearer than all of those memories, I saw the note lying on the pillow, telling me in two short sentences that my life as I knew it was over.

  Yes, the brain is a powerful thing. It tricked me into believing those selfish, lying bastards loved me.

  The cheery music pelted my ears, the opposite of my moros
e reminiscing. Movement out of the corner of my eye roused me. I pulled out my headphones. My aunt was waving for my attention.

  “That’s another thing,” said Violet. “If you’re going to have those things so loud that you can’t hear me speaking to you, you aren’t to use them at all.”

  I gritted my teeth. I honestly never cared much for my aunt and uncle. They lived across town my whole life, a half an hour away, but we never saw them outside of major holidays. Not even birthdays would bring them around. When they were there, my aunt only opened her mouth to criticize my hair, clothes, posture, and refusal to wear makeup. The last part really burned her up and I have received makeup kits every year for Christmas since I was twelve.

  My dad’s brother, Uncle Harrison, didn’t spare me many words. He was always walking out of the room to take business calls. I’d stumble on him on the porch, shouting into the phone and calling some poor sap a moron. As for Eli, the two didn’t speak to him at all. It never occurred to them to learn sign language.

  I put their behavior down to the mysterious fight that broke the brothers apart years before I was born. I certainly sensed the charged atmosphere whenever my dad and his brother were in the same room. But now my parents were gone. It was just the four of us and after being around them the last month as they dealt with cops, lawyers, and social workers, I knew for sure, they just flat out didn’t like us.

  “Anyway,” my aunt carried on. “We’re about five minutes away from the Estate. When we get home, take your and your brother’s things up to your rooms and stay there until Margaret calls you for lunch. You’re allowed in your rooms, the bathrooms, the dining room, and the first-floor living room. The kitchen is off-limits. Our bedroom and our offices are off-limits. The other living rooms are also off-limits. The antiques in there are priceless and the upholstery expensive. I won’t have you two ruining our things. Make sure your brother understands that.”

  “We’re not toddlers,” I snapped. “And stop referring to him as ‘your brother.’ His name is Eli. He has straight As. Knows two languages and makes killer blueberry pancakes. Make sure you understand that.”

  Uncle Harrison whipped around so fast, the wheel jerked and sent me careening into the door. We pulled off the street into a random parking lot. “Don’t ever sass my wife,” he roared, spittle flying. “Apologize!”

  My heart pounded against my rib cage. I wasn’t prepared for this reaction. Dad’s method of correction was to calmly tell me to go to my room. Purpling cheeks and flashing blues didn’t factor into the equation.

  Eli’s book poked my thigh. It had flown out of his hand. He gazed at me wide-eyed. The fear in them squeezed my chest.

  I put my hand over his, silently soothing him. “I’m sorry for how I said it, Aunt Violet,” I replied in an even tone. “But I’m not sorry for what I said. You two barely know me and Eli even less. I think if we’re going to make the next month work, I should make it clear that we’re not messy, loud, or reckless. We’ll respect your property, stay where we belong, and we’ll obey your rules. But Eli is a smart, funny, great kid, and I won’t let you treat him any other way.”

  Eli was looking at me as I said that, reading every word on my lips. He glanced at my uncle for the response.

  We locked in a heated stare. A month ago, I would’ve backed down before the brash, balding, angry man who always looked at me as though I wasn’t worth his time. But I wasn’t that girl anymore. It was just me and Eli now. We had to look out for each other. No one else would.

  I eyed the man who was practically strong-armed into taking us in.

  No one else wants to.

  Clicking his tongue, my uncle turned around and retook the wheel. “See that you do.” He resumed driving us to our new home.

  Eli squeezed my hand to get my attention. “What did he say?”

  “See that you do,” I repeated. “Make sure we obey their nonsense rules.”

  His shoulders slumped. “Do we have to live with them? You’re eighteen. We can get an apartment. Just me and you.”

  I ruffled his wavy blond crown. “I wish I could and I promise one day it will be just me and you. But right now, I’ve got no money, credit, or guarantors.”

  Eli cocked his head at the last word, so I explained. My brother had infinite ways to communicate, and being lucky enough to be his older sister, I got a peek into his world.

  “The only place we’d get is a sketchy shithole in the worst part of the OB,” I signed. “It wouldn’t be safe for you.”

  Eli raised a brow. He didn’t sign but I could hear the thought going through his head.

  Nowhere in this town is safe for us.

  I pretended I couldn’t read his mind to save me from coming up with a reply. Handing him his book, I returned to staring out the window in time to see a gold and black sign zip past.

  Raven River Estate.

  To shed any doubt of where we were, the matching gold and black gates crested over the horizon. Uncle Harrison slowed down before the guard station.

  “Afternoon, Mr. Bancroft,” said the uniformed man. “Guests today?”

  “Yes. Ember and Eli Bancroft. I’ve registered them with the office.” My uncle took something out of the glove box and handed it to him. “They’ll be staying with us for a short time.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  The guard stepped out of the booth to peer at us, looking from our faces to the passes.

  Security is tight around here.

  But then the pampered royalty who lived within this gilded cage would want it that way. Can’t have OB riffraff wandering in.

  The drive to my uncle’s home was short, but scenic. The Estate truly was a beautiful patch of land. No trash scattered about these streets. No graffiti on the spotless, power-washed storefronts. And grand homes towering in the distance.

  As we passed by the park, I spotted polo-shirted and khaki-pantsed couples walking arm in arm and chubby-cheeked munchkins running happily through the mulch. It was like a tampon commercial. A bright picture-perfect scene to disguise a bloody nightmare.

  Or at least it will be for me. Aunt Violet and I agree on one thing. I’d be better off staying inside.

  “This is it,” Uncle Harrison announced for no reason. It wasn’t like we’d never been to his place before. “Do as your aunt said, take your things up, and stay in your rooms.”

  “Okay.”

  My uncle killed the engine before the entrance. I pressed my face against the window, taking in the mansion I’d seen a grand total of three times. Nothing had changed.

  Dad told me years ago that a charming Tudor-style mansion once stood here but Aunt Violet had it leveled after they bought the land and built this white and gray mid-century modern catastrophe in its place. A home that stood here since the founding of the town, gone in the time it took my aunt to sign a check.

  The doors opened and a man in a smart suit stepped out carrying a tray.

  “And one more thing.” Aunt Violet twisted around in her seat. “The servants do not work for you, so don’t presume to give them orders. You wash your own clothes, clean your rooms, and tidy up after yourselves. I’m certain this will be the last time I have to say this.”

  “It will,” I said simply.

  My aunt Violet was a beautiful woman, and she made efforts to stay that way. She wouldn’t deign to leave the house with her roots showing, but old photos gave away that she used to be as blond as the rest of us. The toffee brown bob she sported now suited her just as well. It brought out the specks of green in her brown eyes and framed her heart-shaped face. What it didn’t accentuate was the pinched lips and tightness around her eyes whenever she looked in my direction.

  “Tell your br— Eli,” she corrected.

  I did as she asked.

  “Can I go into the library?” Eli replied.

  I repeated the question.

  “No,” she said to me. “There are first editions in there that are worth a lot of money.”

  “
You should speak directly to him,” I said. “It’s him you’re talking to.”

  She frowned. “No, I’m not. I’m speaking to you.”

  I shook my head as she and Uncle Harrison climbed out of the car. They accepted the drinks the butler held out to them and then disappeared in the house without a backward glance.

  “I don’t like it here,” Eli signed.

  We hadn’t set foot inside and I couldn’t help but agree.

  “We have to make the most of it,” I said, speaking while I signed. “It’s better than me being on the streets and you stuck in a foster home.”

  He didn’t look convinced.

  Eli and I got out and collected our meager possessions from the trunk. Most of what we owned was seized by the authorities. All we had were clothes and the few books Eli was allowed to grab.

  The butler hung around long enough to point us in the direction of our rooms. We were put on the third floor in the two bedrooms at the very back. Far from the rest of the household, but I wasn’t complaining about the queen bed, ensuite, or the room next to Eli. Like I said, this was infinitely better than me being on my own and Eli sent away.

  Eli hopped on his new bed and went back to reading. I took up the task of putting away his things. Maybe with his books on the shelves and photos of our trip to Disney on the nightstand, this would feel more like home.

  I went into the bathroom to set out his toiletries. When I came out, the book was cast aside and he was on his laptop. The nosy bugger I was, I jumped up to see what he was looking at. One glance and I immediately took it away from him.

  Eli shot up, eyes flashing.

  “Don’t give me that look,” I snapped. “Why do you torture yourself looking at this stuff?”

  On the screen, a rather flattering photo of my parents on their honeymoon shone under the glaring news title: “The Most Notorious Con Artists in America.”

  “I’m not torturing myself,” he replied. “I just want to know what’s going on.”

  “From this? It’s click-bait trash,” I said. “I can name three people off the top of my head who scammed hundreds of millions more, so Mom and Dad are hardly the most notorious. It’ll be filled with half-baked truths and enough leading statements to make their readers draw the worst conclusions.”