Hateful Bully - Logan Fox Page 0,1

with chameleon eyes or the reflexes of a feline-ninja mutant. Instead of picking up my tray like a normal prehensile Homo sapien, I fumble it and send my half-eaten lunch to the floor. I’m still busy picking limp lettuce leaves from the rug when a pair of dress shoes enters my view.

Uniforms are one of the formalities this place insists on. Doesn’t matter that we’re practically living on a farm; we still have to dress up in full school gear every weekday.

I recognize those shoes. There’s only one person I know who can manage to make size thirteen shoes look hot. I peek up at my stepbrother.

Josiah watches me for a moment as if waiting for me to greet him. Instead, I scowl at him. Yes, I know I shouldn’t poke the fucking tiger, especially when he’s standing less than two feet away from me, but I hate the fact that I’d been on my knees in front of him like a commoner while he loomed over me like a goddamn king.

His black eyes narrow before his face turns to stone.

I can’t believe I used to think he was as handsome as his father.

“I like you down there, on your knees,” he says in his low rumble of a voice.

I scramble to my feet, but I’m not fast enough.

Josiah catches hold of my ponytail and wrenches back my head. I know everyone in the lunchroom is watching, but he couldn’t give a fuck about that. He seems to take some sick pleasure in humiliating me in public.

“Hey, let her go!” Haley yells, her voice moving closer.

“Two months,” Josiah says without blinking. “Two months of my life I’ve sacrificed for you.”

His cologne hits my nose, an intense musky scent I always thought too sophisticated for him. With it arrives a slew of nightmarish memories I truly wish I could forget.

“Leave me alone,” I snap as I tear myself free.

If he hadn’t released my hair, I’d still be pressed up against him, but I like to think that I had something to do with my escape.

I’m halfway to the dining room exit when he yells out, “Pointless to run, darling. It’s not like we’re going anywhere.”

My already hot face catches fire. I’m tempted—only for a second—to turn back. I already know he’ll be punished for coming to talk to me—there’s no need for me to end up facing the corner for the rest of the day too.

I hurry for the exit like my life depends on it, and plead to any deities who happen to be watching over this shit-fest of a life that he doesn’t follow.

Perhaps someone’s on my side because I make it to the hallway unchallenged.

When I risk a peek over my shoulder, Josiah’s standing in the middle of the lunchroom, staring after me.

He could be a statue, but statues don’t have a capacity for hate. Then again, no one can hate like my stepbrother.

He’s got it down to a fine art.

Josiah

I stare at Candy’s whisking ponytail as she stalks from the lunchroom, the sensation of those silky strands still thrilling against my skin. Her BFF glares at me before they disappear into the hallway.

Fuck.

A hand claps over my shoulder. A normal person would have jolted, but I’d heard Sylvester coming. He walks like he holds a personal grudge against the floor.

I should know—I got my PH. D in grudges a while ago.

“Got something juicy planned for her, don’t ya?” Sylvester comes to stand next to me, crossing his arms over his chest and letting out a sigh. “I’m sure it’s fucking brilliant.”

I decline to answer. He’d be too disappointed if I told him the truth.

“Josiah.”

My eyes slide shut at the sound of Brian’s voice. He’s today’s lunch-time supervisor, but he’d left the room for a smoke break when I decided to speak to Candy. Some other kid must have gone running to tell him what just happened. Something that kid—whoever they are—will regret.

“Yes?” I ask, turning as Brian comes closer. He’s got ten years on me but looks twice that with his prematurely gray hair and sun-damaged skin. He was one of Happy Mountain’s earliest students, apparently. He did so well, he decided to stay. Now he’s our lodge’s den dad. His wife, Angela, is our den mother. We’re supposed to treat them like we would our parents, but I don’t think they quite understand the relationship I have with my father.

Brian’s nothing like him. That’s the only reason I show him a touch of respect.

“Sorry,” I say,