Throwaway Girl

Artemis

“If you leave this academy, we will hunt you down, Artemis.” Ronin has his arms crossed over his chest, rumbling.

He is wearing his immaculate deep purple blazer with the St. Edward Preparatory Academy crest on the breast pocket. The crest has two golden crowns separated by a line in the middle of the shield. He has on a white dress shirt underneath the blazer. His khaki pants are perfectly creased down the center to pressed perfection and his black Italian loafers shine. His purple and gold tie joins it all together. I honestly love these uniforms.

“If you think I have a choice in the matter, then you’re delusional. My father remarried, and the home-wrecker doesn’t want me to be attending the academy because it’s a waste of money. They are forcing me to move in with them. I will go to a public school,” I growl before shoving pasta that tastes like ash in my mouth.

Normally, I love their pasta. All the food is cooked by a five-star-rated chef. I’m forcing myself to eat something, even though I feel sick to my stomach since I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning.

I woke up to a phone call from my father, which sent me into a fit where I destroyed my room. He told me I would finish senior year in a public school wherever it is they recently moved to. He wouldn’t even tell me that bit.

The havoc I caused in my dorm room impressed Ronin and Razz very much. They hired someone to clean up for me this morning while we were in class.

“Just remember, you are ours. No matter how long it takes. We will find you.”

My ocean eyes meet Ronin’s unique ones. He has sectorial heterochromia in both his turquoise irises. His left eye has a small brown section in the upper left corner. The bottom of his right eye in the middle is brown. His eyes are captivating, hidden behind thick black lashes.

“I hope you do. I hate that my father is moving us out of my childhood home to another town. He won’t tell me where. He and the home-wrecker wanted it to be a surprise,” I sigh, frustrated at this whole turn of events.

I don’t want to disappear leaving my two boyfriends without a way to find me or contact me. I don’t want to leave my life at SEPA for public school, in who knows where.

“It’s stupid. I need to pack everything and leave today after school. I can’t enjoy my senior year with you two now. No prom with two most terrifying boys in this school.”

I’ll have to finish my senior year in a public school, which means there goes my ticket to Cutter University.

“This doesn’t even give me enough time to pack,” I groan, running a hand through my angled-bob medium brown hair with silver ash framing my face.

“We will help you pack, Artie.” Razz’s tattooed hand gives my bare thigh a gentle squeeze. His hand was on the bare flesh just above my thigh-high socks, under my khaki pleated skirt.

This damn rich boy gets whatever he wants.

Seriously, what just turned eighteen-year-old already has his hands and arms covered in tattoos? Xavier Rasmus Jamison, that’s who. He is lucky that members of his family work at this school or are extremely rich, who donate tons of money to the school and sit on the school board.

One of his fathers is the school’s on-call doctor, and the other is the dance instructor. I’m also certain he has a father who did all his tattoo work. So, Razz is one of his father’s walking build boards.

“Thank you, Razz.” I exhaled, meeting his unusually violet gaze.

Razz looks like he just woke up from a nap with his messy uniform, undone tie, and thick curly sandy blonde hair combed to the side and back. Razz is always punctual, puts in his best effort, and maintains a high level of organization. Unless it comes to his clothes and that is only because he spends most of his morning working on his hair. He hates that it’s curly like his father’s.

“Roan, let’s skip afternoon classes so we can help our girl,” Razz suggests.

Ronin nods his head of slicked-backed blue-black hair. Ronin Daniel Silvius always looks perfectly put together. You would never know by looking at him he puts forth the minimum amount of effort into anything. He is never punctual and is the most disorganized person I’ve ever met. They are two vastly different boys.

“You two know I won’t be your girl anymore.” I’m very matter-of-fact. “Long-distance relationships rarely work out.”

Having finished with my plate, I’m now fiddling with the lightweight scarf that matches the boy’s ties wrapped around my neck.

Ronin grabs my hand to stop me from my nervous fidgeting. “It’s not as bad as all that, Artie. You can call us and let us know where you are. We can check on you during breaks. You are ours.”

Ronin rubs his prickly face on the top of my hand. This boy’s facial hair sprouted fast. He was freshly shaven this morning and already had a five o’clock shadow at noon. It tickles.

I giggle at him. I only ever giggle around these two lanky and well-defined boys.

Everyone in this school fears them, including my freshman and sophomore years. I’ve seen them socially destroy other students and faculty. On rare occasions, I’ve noticed them physically destroy other boys.

When they tried for two years to get me under control, like they do everyone else, I would laugh in their faces. A plethora of dirt was dug up on my father, all of it I already knew from his gambling to his alcoholism.

I knew he cheated on my mother with the now stepmother six years older than me, but also eighteen years younger than my father, for the past six years. Those sex pictures that were deposited under my room door freshman year didn’t bother me that much. They were gross, but I had caught my father with her before.

That’s how my mom hired a private investigator to follow my father, divorcing him when I was thirteen. They didn’t want me in the middle of their fights, so I went to a private academy and spent most of the summer with my mother. Dad only wanted me one week in June and one week in July. That’s it.

The death of my mother was still fresh so that stung a little beginning of junior year when my boys broadcasted her funeral over the speaker system. She had depression, killing herself via a dirty batch of cocaine. I refused to touch the powder again after that. I used to enjoy it while occasionally partying, but not after that Thanksgiving.

None of it broke me. The boys even broke into my room that year but found nothing of value, so they stole my panties. I just wore small shorts under my skirt after that. Ronin and Razz gave them all back by the end of that year.

I impressed my boys with my resilience so much that they started developing feelings for me. The sneers and harsh remarks became heartbreaking smiles and gentle expressions.

My sarcastic, stubborn ass became exactly what those two needed. My boys have come a long way since their freshman and sophomore years. They are still terrifying to those around them, but they have a soft side reserved only for me.

We leave our food going to my room on the fourth floor of the girl’s dormitory.