Holy Trinity Read online

  Savannah Rose & Amelia Gates

  Copyright © 2019 by Savannah Rose

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  1. Elly

  2. Elly

  3. Back in Summer Camp, Day 1

  4. Elly

  5. Elly

  6. Elly

  7. Back in Summer Camp, Day 2

  8. Rhett

  9. Elly

  10. Elly

  11. Back in Summer Camp, Day 10

  12. Rhett

  13. Elly

  14. Elly

  15. Back in Summer Camp, Day 12

  16. Elly

  17. Rhett

  18. Elly

  19. Elly

  20. Elly

  21. Rhett

  22. Rhett

  23. Back in Summer Camp, Day 20

  24. Elly

  25. Rhett

  26. Elly

  27. Rhett

  28. Rhett

  29. Elly

  30. Back in Summer Camp, Day 62

  31. Elly

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  1

  Elly

  This isn’t what I thought I’d be coming back to after summer camp.

  Granted, the sun is out. It could be a lot worse. As soon as I get off the school bus, I stop on the sidewalk just to look at it. My new school. Who the hell uproots her daughter right before her senior year and plops her in a new and potentially dangerous environment? A freshly divorced mother, that’s who.

  I resent her for it. I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive her, or dad, for that matter. They didn’t tell me anything. I knew they were having trouble… I’m not blind. But they could’ve stuck it out for another year. Why do I have to pay for their mistakes?

  Mom moved out and grabbed me along for “a new adventure,” as she likes to call it. I’m two towns over from all my friends and the people I actually care about.

  The high school looks decent. Typical suburb establishment, with clean walls and preppy looking kids moving in herds before the first bell. They’re all giving me nasty looks—the kind that say - “You’re not supposed to be here, scab.” I can feel it in my bones, it’s not going to be a pleasant experience.

  I’ve got my backpack on one shoulder, my hand gripping the padded strap a little tighter than usual. I’m nervous. Why shouldn’t I be? I’m on foreign, clearly hostile territory. I’m eighteen and not financially independent enough to be on my own, though it’s exactly what I’d like to do right now. Mom thinks I’ll be fine. Dad hasn’t called since he picked me up from summer camp. Fun fact: shortly after he dropped me off at home, he and mom sat me down and told me they were getting a divorce. The selfish bastards…

  Sometimes, it’s really hard to love them. Not because I don’t want to, but because they just make everything so difficult. My stomach tightens and I fight the urge to bring my hand down to comfort it. I skipped breakfast this morning, loading up on coffee, instead. I’m not really rebelling. I just wasn’t happy enough with mom to spin around in a bar stool and pretend that everything’s okay while biting into a piece of toast. I’m starting to regret not eating. My stomach rumbles again. Shit, I’d kill for a waffle, right now.

  The other kids keep giving me weary glances. Maybe there’s a “Stranger Danger” sign on my forehead? I run my fingers through my hair, thankful that it’s long and red enough to distract from the dark half-moons under my eyes. The depth of the circles are proof that I need a better concealer. I suck in a deep breath and tilt my head back up to the crowd before me.

  “What the hell are they staring at?” I mutter to myself, glancing down. I’ve got short jeans, white Vans, a pale-yellow tank top and my washed-up denim vest. It may be September already, but it’s still August-hot. From what I can tell, I’m not outside Trinity High’s fashion norms. Plenty of skimpy summer dresses and spaghetti straps around, from the juniors to the seniors. What makes me so different?

  I’m the new girl. I think that’s the deal with these middle-class specimens. Like tigers, they smell new blood. If I’m not careful, if I let my guard down, they’ll pounce. I know they will. Teenagers can be mean, not to mention the seniors, who prefer to call themselves “young adults” these days. Doesn’t really get a lot more pretentious than that, does it?

  My phone rings and I briefly check the time. Fifteen minutes until the first class. Brenda’s calling me. I miss her so damn much…

  “What’s up, Dougie?” I answer, lowering my voice.

  She mimics me to perfection. “What’cha’ doin’, sweet cheeks?”

  We both laugh. I love hearing her voice. It’s the most I can get from Brenda, these days. We’re fifty miles apart, but those fifty miles feel a heck of a lot like five hundred. Her parents are always busy, my mom won’t lend me the Mini Cooper to visit Brenda back in my hometown… So, we’re left with Facetime and phone calls.

  “You in school yet?” she asks. I can hear noise in the background. Hell, I can almost see Tracy and Uma sauntering over to her, lattes in one hand, bear claws in the other. Our morning routine.

  I let a deep sigh roll out of my chest. “I’m about to go in. This new school has got some Cruel Intention vibes, I tell ya’!”

  “You mean, hot guys and three-way innuendos every fifteen minutes?” Brenda giggles. She’s being nice. Trying to make light of what I know she fully understands is a shitty fucking situation.

  I roll my eyes and let out a deep sigh. “No, more like sassy beauty queens throwing daggers with their eyes,” I say. “And they’re looking straight at me. It’s creepy. It’s like they’re planning to murder me the moment I’m alone.”

  Brenda gasps. It’s one of her fake, overly dramatic gasps, meant to make me laugh. “Oh, my god, stay away from the bathroom, you hear me?! Stay. Away. From the bathroom!”

  I chuckle softly, a little sorry I can’t give her a heartier laugh. But there are three gorgeous senior chicks eyeing me like I’ve just stolen their quinoa salads. I’m not the aggressive type but I don’t back down, either. My physique might not be in any way intimidating, yet I can still throw a punch and hit something. The apparent leader of the pack throws me a glossy smirk as she goes through the main door, joined by her sidekicks. Their cheerleading uniforms give anyone at the bottom of the stairs a good view of their round, perfectly toned rumps.

  “Just wanted to check on you,” Brenda says. I almost forget I’m on the phone with her, my eyes wandering across the front of the building, all the way into the attached parking lot. “How are you feeling?”

  “As good as I can,” I reply. “Just one year, and then I’m off to college.”

  “Ugh, your mom’s gonna cry…”

  “Like I give a crap. I mean, she didn’t notice my tears when she moved me all the way here, in Douchebag-Central.”

  I can almost see Brenda nodding slowly. “Yeah, she could’ve kept you here for another year at least. But it’s done now, Elly… You know, you can’t change it. You can only keep going. Forward, ever forward.”

  “Stop quoting Coach Lee and get your ass in school!” I laugh.

  “I’ll talk to you later, babe. Remember, if Trinity’s too crummy or sleazy for you, carry a billiard ball in a sock with you, at all times,” Brenda says, then hangs up.

  I can’t help but smile. Two minutes with her on the phone, and I’m already feeling better. She’s right, though. I can’t change what happened. My parents’ marriage didn’t work out. They didn’t think about me when they reached their
decision, so… here I am, starting over in a new town, where I don’t know anyone. It sucks, but I’ve got a feeling life is going to be a lot like this. Lots of curve balls headed toward me. I just can’t see them yet.

  My attention is drawn away from my problems by roaring laughter. I find its source, legs hanging out the back of a Range Rover in the parking lot. That voice sounds familiar. It causes a painful pang in my chest, like a rubber band suddenly snapping.

  “Pass me the bottle, Rhett!” he says, as authoritarian as ever.

  Oh, dear…

  It’s them. The Hotshots. I call them The Hotshots because there really isn’t a better word for them. I used to joke about them being joined at the hip, back in summer camp. Kellan and Rhett Flanagan, the troublemaking brothers - fraternal twins whose only similarity is how damn irresistibly hot they both are. And Gage O’Donnell, their best friend. We went to the same place this summer—a sprawling complex about fifty miles from both Trinity and my hometown, up north. Several high schools organize these trips every year. I met The Hotshots there, back in late June. They didn’t tell me they were enrolled at Trinity High.

  Then again, we didn’t talk about school much.

  My heart starts pumping a little faster. I catch a glimpse of Rhett as he twists himself from the passenger seat to hand a bottle to Kellan. They’re drinking. Gage is behind the wheel, the engine turned off. A cigarette hangs loosely from between his lips. I thought he’d quit. This feels off, somehow.

  Girls are buzzing around the Range Rover, laughing and touching Rhett through the open window. They want him. It’s not hard to see why. He’s the heartbreaker out of The Hotshots. Tall, dark and handsome. His hair is black and messy, with the occasional curls streaking across his forehead. His eyes are emerald knives that cut through everything they see. His lips… well, they’re the epitome of wet, delicious softness. The girls like him because he towers over most of the guys his age. Those broad shoulders get me tingly.

  “You’ve had enough,” Rhett says to Kellan, his hand out, asking for the bottle back. I recognize the amber liquid dancing inside as it reaches Rhett again. Whiskey. Probably a single malt. Their good tastes extend beyond summer camp, apparently.

  Gage grins and snatches the bottle, taking a swig before Rhett grabs it, cursing under his breath.

  “I’m not technically driving right now!” Gage replies.

  Looking at them now, I realize how different they are from one another, yet how much alike. Kellan is the bulky brother, with a solid muscle mass. He’s not a thick-neck type, but he looks like he could lift that Range Rover from the back on a dare. But what really draws me to him is his personality. He’s all sweet and mushy on the inside. The memory of us in the woods springs to mind, and I know I’m going to get all wet in a second. He was my first. To this date, my only, as well, and I’ve not heard from him in two whole weeks.

  It should offend me. But then I see Gage again, and that broad, boyish smile of his, and I almost forget that neither of them had said a word since we left summer camp. It’s not like we weren’t friends. They promised we’d be in touch. Even so, I’m relieved to see them here. They’re a pleasant surprise. A sight for sore eyes, even.

  It’s been a rough couple of weeks. The moving, the divorce… it all happened so quickly. I need to tell them about it. There’s still some whiskey left in that bottle. Maybe I can skip my first class and start out with a bang.

  My instinct tells me to go inside, but my legs won’t listen. My knees are weak, but the rest of my body still works as it carries me across the mowed lawn and into the parking lot. The smell of freshly cut grass fills my nostrils, mingled with cigarette smoke and alcohol vapors. It reminds me of summer camp and how close the four of us were. There was a connection between us—not just physical, we all knew it.

  Mom used to tell me that there’s a name for girls who mess around with more than just the one guy, but I still can’t accept that premise. Things were different with Kellan, Rhett, and Gage. It took me a while to find the right word for it… synergy. As I walk over to them, I can almost feel it. The butterflies wrestling in the pit of my stomach. My breath cut short. My skin tingling all over. What we had was unique.

  So, why haven’t they reached out, like they said they would? Maybe I’ll find out now. My instinct is practically screaming at me to turn left and head inside. Run really damn far away. But I can’t help myself. I’m drawn to them, in an inexplicable manner. Like a moth to a flame. Nothing good ever happens to the moth. Maybe remembering that is worth something. But forgetting it is so damn easy right now.

  The girls are the ones to see me first. They look like sophomores, their faces padded with a smidge too much make-up. They instantly recognize me as some type of enemy, because their eyes turn into slits and their smiles to scowls.

  “Who’s she?” the blonde asks, flipping her long, bleached hair over her shoulder.

  Rhett follows her gaze, slowly, carefully, then freezes upon seeing me. His expression… darkens, and I’m suddenly gripped by what feels a lot like ice-cold fear. I can feel its frosted fingers clutching my throat, thrilled to choke me to death. But still, I don’t stop. I keep walking until I reach the Range Rover. By then, Kellan and Gage notice me, as well.

  None of them look happy to see me.

  What in the world is going on?

  “No one,” Rhett says, then chugs a mouthful of whiskey. He pushes the bottle into the blonde’s small hands and opens the car door. The brunette moves back, almost excited by what she thinks is going to happen next—I’m not sure what that is, but, judging by the look on her face, it can’t be anything good.

  “Long time no see,” I breathe, my voice gone, hidden somewhere far. Somewhere where I can’t find it. I keep talking, because Rhett is headed toward me, and he doesn’t look like the guy whose shoulder I cried on, back in summer camp. He looks more like the reason I’d need a shoulder to cry on, in the first place. “I didn’t know you guys were in Trinity, too! I mean, I just got transferred here. My parents sprung the divorce on me right after I got back from camp and…”

  I lose my words, too, because he stops in front of me, much taller than I remember. Gage is out of the car now, eyeing me like I’m a bug he needs to squish with the heel of his boot. Kellan is the last one to leave the Range Rover. He grabs the whiskey bottle back from the blonde and raises his eyebrow at me. Suddenly, I’m small and defenseless, unable to move or speak. What the hell is happening?

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Rhett grunts out, his voice cold, cutting through me like an axe. I swallow back a knot, my palm sweaty and slipping from my backpack’s shoulder strap.

  “I… I got transferred. What’s up with the—”

  He grabs my backpack and pulls it wide open, with no regard for the zipper’s dwindling integrity. I’m stunned. Lots of questions, no answers, just dread piling up inside me, my instinct kicking and punching and desperately pointing at the door. Even now, I can’t move.

  The girls are smiling. Oh, they’re enjoying this. Gage looks bored, checking his phone. Kellan hooks an arm around the blonde, pursing his lips as he gives me a disgusted sneer. I don’t recognize him anymore. Rhett starts digging through my bag.

  “What are you…” My voice trails off.

  I’m astonished by my own inability to react. It feels like I’m tied to the front of a runaway train, and we’re headed straight for a massive brick wall. I think I’m going to crash into it, and there’s no one out here to save me.

  Rhett finds my tampons on the bottom, and he takes one out. My face is burning. If shame could kill, I’d be writhing and foaming at the mouth right now, giving my last breath. I hear laughter. The beauty queens from earlier are back outside, along with a dozen more seniors. It’s a “Holy shit!” moment, and I can’t even move a muscle to stop it from unfolding.

  “Rhett, stop,” I whisper. “What are you doing?”

  He flicks the tampon toward me. It hits my shoulder, then fal
ls on the gravel, mute and as ashamed as I am. Rhett chuckles, picking out another one from the box. The blonde and the brunette are stifling their scratchy chortles. Gage smiles. Kellan glances to the side, noticing the beauty queens and giving them a nod of acknowledgment. This is amusing to them. My humiliation is today’s highlight, it seems, and I can’t bring myself to fucking stop this.

  “Open wide,” Rhett says, and flicks another tampon at me. It hits me in the face. It doesn’t hurt. The gesture, however, opens a gaping wound inside me, and I’m transfixed. Is this really happening? Should I pinch myself out of what is clearly a horrible nightmare?

  “What the shit, Rhett?!” I finally blurt out, surprised by my own tone. Where’d that come from? I need more! I need a friggin’ flamethrower to turn them all to ashes.

  He’s relentless. Without a single emotion flickering across his sharp features, he turns my backpack upside down. Books, pens and notebooks fall out, making a mess at my feet. The sounds they make upon impact drill holes into my very soul. But it’s not enough. No, Rhett’s not done yet. He shoves the empty backpack into my chest with such strength that I’m pushed back a couple of feet.

  The rest of my tampons are out on display for everyone to see. I’m speechless. Hurt. Their laughter stabs my eardrums, like forks on a blackboard. Rhett moves like a shadow. I don’t even notice it until he stands so close, that there’s hardly a breath of space between us.

  “Run, Elly. Run fast and run far,” he says, anger burning in his emerald green eyes.