33

When Ste arrived at school on Monday morning, his stomach churned with a mixture of dread and resignation. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect from Jamie after last week’s humiliating exchange. The phrase “being someone’s bitch” echoed ominously in his head, a mantra that grew heavier with each repetition. He didn’t know exactly what it entailed, but he figured Jamie would make it crystal clear soon enough.

Walking through the school gates, Ste kept his head down, trying to navigate the sea of students without drawing attention. The usual smells of cheap deodorant, sweat, and overly buttered toast lingered in the hallways, mingling with the sound of laughter and locker slams.

Then, he saw them.

They were walking down the hallway like something out of a glossy teen drama—Zoe’s platinum hair catching the fluorescent lights, Jamie’s confident stride effortlessly commanding the space around him, and Adam trailing slightly behind, his usual scowl giving him an air of brooding indifference. They moved as though the world parted for them, like wind machines followed their every step and the losers of the school faded into obscurity.

Ste froze, his hands gripping the strap of his backpack. Fear and longing twisted together in his chest, leaving him paralyzed. Part of him almost wished they’d ignore him completely, that they’d keep walking and leave him to fade into the background. But deep down, he knew better.

Jamie spotted him first, his lips curling into a grin that was equal parts smug and predatory.

“You can hang out with us again,” Jamie announced as they reached him. “So long as you don’t do anything to piss me off.”

Behind him, Adam cleared his throat loudly.

Jamie rolled his eyes but corrected himself. “So long as you don’t piss Adam off,” he said, clearly irritated by the need to defer to someone else.

Ste nodded meekly, falling in line behind the group like a kicked puppy.

Jamie grabbed at Ste’s hand, and for one surreal moment, Ste thought he might actually be trying to hold it. Instead, Jamie yanked at the sleeve of Ste’s oversized hoodie, pulling him along like a child dragging a reluctant toy. The gesture was emasculating, but strangely, Ste didn’t hate it. There was something about being owned that soothed him, as though relinquishing control made the chaos of his life feel a little more manageable.

As they walked, Ste noticed the subtle power struggle playing out between Jamie and Adam. Jamie clearly craved the influence Adam wielded as the “hardest kid in school.” But no matter how hard Jamie tried to leverage Adam’s status for his own gain, Adam remained unyielding, too sharp to be manipulated.

‘He’s smarter than people give him credit for,’ Ste thought grimly, his mind drifting to the mistakes that had landed him in this situation.

The hallway grew louder as they approached a crowd gathered near the lockers. Among them was Zeke.

Zeke was hard to miss, his perfectly styled hair and sharp fashion sense always putting him a cut above the average student. As the only openly gay guy at school—and one of the few students of color—he commanded a devoted following. Ste couldn’t help but wonder if Zeke’s charisma would still hold if he weren’t also ridiculously good-looking.

Jamie’s posture stiffened as they drew closer. For reasons Ste couldn’t quite understand, Jamie had taken an intense dislike to Zeke.

“Nice scarf,” Jamie said, stopping in front of him. He reached out to finger the edge of the fabric, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. “It looks good on you. I had one last season, you know… when they were in.”

Zoe let out a cackle, her laughter loud and grating. Zeke, however, didn’t rise to the bait.

But his fangirls did.

“Oh, please,” one of them snapped. “Last month, you were walking around looking like Quasimodo and Samara’s love child.”

Jamie raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Really? Picking on me for my hunchback? How ableist of you.”

The word hit like a grenade. The group of self-appointed activists immediately turned on the girl who’d spoken, their voices rising in a cacophony of indignation.

“I—I didn’t mean it like that!” she stammered, her face reddening. “I just—”

“Fascist,” Jamie muttered under his breath, flipping his hair as he turned away.

Zoe practically beamed. “You owned that bitch,” she said, nudging Jamie’s shoulder with hers. She clearly relished having someone as sharp-tongued and cruel as Jamie in the group.

Ste stayed quiet, watching the interaction with the faintest hint of unease. Zoe’s tendency to trash-talk every other girl at school had always struck him as ironic, given her constant complaints about not having any female friends. But Ste knew better than to voice his thoughts. Speaking only when spoken to had become his survival strategy, and it was mostly effective.

Mostly.

Adam, for reasons Ste couldn’t quite decipher, had a habit of calling him out for being too quiet. Unlike the others, Adam seemed to want something from him—respect, maybe, or effort. Whatever it was, Ste found it almost endearing. Compared to Jamie’s sadistic games, Adam’s occasional scoldings felt like a form of tough love.

‘It’s a sad state of affairs when Adam is the most merciful one in the group,’ Ste thought bitterly.

By the time the final bell rang, Ste was ready to slip away unnoticed. As they ambled toward the school gates, he hung back, silently praying no one would call his name. He could already taste the cheap beer waiting for him at home, the promise of numbness easing the coil of tension in his chest.

But his plan was short-lived.

He felt Jamie’s hand tugging at his sleeve.

Ste turned reluctantly, his gaze low, staring up through his lashes with a defeated expression.

Jamie smirked, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “You’re coming to my house,” he said, giving Ste’s arm another sharp tug.

And just like that, Ste’s evening was decided for him.

He felt a flicker of relief that Jamie hadn’t invited the others to join them, though the relief was laced with apprehension. Jamie wasn’t exactly kinder when they were alone. If anything, he was worse.