The Bully Switch Read online

“I don’t think I need to break the bank for used up goods,” the guy said, recovering but not his wits. “I hear you’re not even worth the price of a condom.”

  I swung my backpack on, feeling the heavy weight of the calculus text. I had to change all my classes since Jen was artsy and I was headed for pre-med. The school didn’t care, happy to accept my dad’s tuition and let him forfeit the one he lost for Jen dropping out to move to live with mom. My grades helped too, and wit; that I could live on.

  “You need an editor,” I suggested to the guy. He hadn't even given me his name before he propositioned me.

  “What?” he said, and yes, he looked confused.

  “An editor. Someone to read over and edit your material before you start trying to make a joke. Unless you’re aiming for unintentionally ridiculous with your illogical punch lines.”

  Somebody laughed near us.

  Excellent, an audience. A bully always preferred to work in front of others.

  “Or are you just hoping to play Russian roulette with an STD? Gonorrhea makes you cum faster? Or is the clap that gets you hard as-” I looked down at his crotch “-peanuts and a pretzel stick?”

  “I don’t want your diseases, you filthy whore,” he said, rather blustery and his cheeks were going red. He backed up like I might breathe a sexually transmitted infection out on him with my words.

  “Well then, Boy Scout, always use a condom and stop being such a cheap ass. It’s your health,” I said and clapped him on the shoulder. “Oh, and I didn’t wash my hands after I took a piss,” I added. “It’s so itchy down there and it burns when I-”

  Boy Scout shrugged me off and skedaddled. I smiled.

  “Who are you and what did you do with Jen?”

  I kept that smile plastered on my lips even if my heart was currently pounding in my chest and a cold sweat was dampening the blouse I had tucked into the back of my school kilt. I was going to project cool, calm and collected no matter if someone called me out on my game on the first day.

  Proving it would be more difficult.

  “I took an assertiveness course over the holidays for dealing with a-holes. Why break their noses when you can just crush their egos, wherever they may keep them,” I said, giving this guy the same crouch gawk I had the Boy Scout.

  He was more impressive, filling his uniform a little too well. Tailored uniform pants that were a bit on the skinny side, probably to look more modern. If they were jeans, I would say he was rocking them. I looked back up. Light brown eyes like butterscotch were looking me over like it was the first time he had seen me. Technically, it was, but he didn’t know that. I knew him from pictures and my sister’s story.

  This was Chris Harrison. Twin enemy number one. He was smart, an evil kind of genius that made villainy a chess game where he was king. His weakness was going after people like Jen, artists that could wax philosophically about the shades of blue and green in an oil of the ocean, which emotions they evoked and the responsible sourcing of the pigments and proper mixing of the paints; but calculus made my sister look stupid.

  Jen wouldn’t have taken this class if dad tried to bribe her with a new pony. I was going to smoke Chris Harrison in calculus before he even realized there was a race and he was the biggest loser, second place to the girl he said could only past art history on her knees.

  He’d even bought knee pads to taunt Jen and left them dangling on her locker. Jen had to take her art history oral in front of the vice principal because Chris got his dad involved and said that there had been rumours of Jen cheating, hinting that the reputation of Ainsworth Prep was at stake.

  Although our family was one of the wealthiest in the school, the Harrisons came from old money. Department stores when they were the only place to shop, now replaced by trendier clientele reflected in higher prices. Chris was the only heir to a business empire and he had shown he had the ruthlessness to take over the family business.

  “Assertiveness? I hear that domme girls are a thing, but I’ve never been much for ball crushers myself. Is it the foot fetish, do you think?”

  I felt my smile crack. “Well given it’s more ball pinching and stilettos are involved, I’m sure it’s more a preference for Louboutin’s than a foot fetish. Doesn’t your store stock them, or are they too high-priced for Harrolds?”

  The name of his store brand was Harrison, of course, but being compared to his similar sounding luxury brand was an easy hit.

  Unlike the previous guy, Chris walked right up into my face, confronting me so I had to look up at him. He wasn’t afraid of me getting close enough to breathe on him or accidentally brush my hand. I tested that and clapped him right on the shoulders as I tilted my head back enough to keep my eyes on his own.

  “Wear the Louboutin's and leave everything else off,” Chris said. My eyes widened and I realized my mistake in letting him get so close, too late. His lips pressed hard against mine, opening my shocked mouth. He didn’t thrust his tongue in, which I might have bitten, but his kiss was dominating anyway. I couldn’t move away without injuring my lip caught between his teeth as he nibbled, my lip held firm while he sucked and soothed his bite, licking along my trapped, sensitive skin.

  The coffee scent of his breath had a hint of vanilla and cinnamon, inhaled as I tried to fuel a protest that would have to be mumbled through my mouth as he smothered more kisses down on me.

  Who needed air with Chris sucking it all away? I could just take some of his back, push my tongue in his mouth and teach him to tangle with me.

  Chris finally pulled away, just enough to release my lip and lick his own, like he was tasting our lingering kiss. “Jen,” he said, making my sister’s name a caress of his lips and tongue. “Make sure to wear the mile-high Louboutin’s, so I won’t get a crick in my neck next time I kiss you.”

  The knowing, arrogant twist of his lips sparked the rage I had forgotten while he stole a kiss. Hearing Jen’s name straightened out my intentions. I was supposed to be bullying this ass, not kissing it.

  Why the hell hadn’t Jen mentioned she was on kissing terms with Chris the smarty-pants? Or that his kisses were as hot as his bedroom eyes?

  Maybe it had something to do with that feeling of wanting to punch him in the nose at the same time I wanted to bite his sexy lips and kiss him back. At least the latter would keep him quiet for the duration of our oral exchange.

  “There’s an easy solution to your problem and you won’t even have to steal any of daddy’s Viagra to fix this one,” I said, glaring up at him so there was no mistaking the passion I was expressing now was the murderous, angry type. “Keep your lying, dirty mouth to yourself,” I suggested.

  Stepping back, I removed my hand from his shoulder and clenched my fingers into a fist. It bugged me to be filthy myself, but I had to make it clear that I hated the taste of his lips, even if that was a lie.

  I spat at his feet. It was not nice.

  That was okay. I needed to break every nice bone in my body if I was going to get justice for my sister.

  Break them like they broke her.

  Turning on my one-inch, chunky heel, I let Chris see the only side of me that he was welcome to kiss.

  3

  The first class was calculus. I expected Chris Harrison to be there. My summer camp crush from when I was twelve, however, was a shock even if my sister had prepared me by mentioning that one of her three tormentors was Liam Stone. Jen didn’t know about Liam because when I had called him a week after camp with so much nervous excitement that I hadn’t even been able to eat my dinner, Liam had broken my heart.

  He didn’t think a long-distance relationship would work. It was a change of heart, and that was all that mattered to me back then, too young to even work out the maturity of what he was saying. I didn’t suspect that Liam was an old money snob, family friends with someone like Chris Harrison, and that when we were twelve, Liam may have dumped me because he found out my father was an embarrassment for making his fortune off the track.

  Li
am certainly had made his views clear to my sister on what he thought about our family and he had started some rumours about dirty racing bets brokered by my father.

  It was a trumped up lie.

  I stopped as soon as I entered the class, spotting Chris and then Liam. It may have been six years since our summer romance that had ended in a single, sweet kiss and broken promises, but I recognized him immediately.

  He had black hair and his eyes were green like mine, although I couldn't tell from where I was standing. There were two gorgeous dimples when he smiled, and he preferred to listen than talk a lot, although the soft way he had brushed his hand along my arm or laced his fingers with mine had said plenty. He had been sweet and followed me around the camp everywhere I went.

  Please, don’t remember me. Liam didn’t mention anything to my sister. I had to be a forgotten girl from his childhood. He didn’t need the extra background information to torment me or to uncover my real identity before I could play out my revenge game for Jen.

  “Hey, the class for counting is in the kindergarten wing.”

  Oh, look, stupid hecklers. I brought forth my smile and looked for who had volunteered to be subjected to Jen’s new assertive side. He had a short buzz cut and glasses that hid some nice blue eyes, or at least, I was sure they were nice when they weren’t gleaming with mockery.

  “Did you need directions?” I asked. “They put the blue bear paws on the floor to help. I volunteered to paint them. Need me to point them out so you can get out of here before somebody pulls out a protractor?”

  Buzz looked confused. “We don’t use protractors in this class.”

  “Was that a question or a statement? You sounded unsure,” I said.

  “Causing trouble, Jen?”

  Well, if I wanted to make my plan work, I had to get close to the enemy. I turned and looked up at Liam, giving him the same smile I showed the rest of the world.

  “Caught me already?” I said. “Lead me to jail, officer,” I added, holding my hands out to be cuffed, mockingly. I doubted he would want to touch me. Dirty rumours might be contagious.

  He touched me alright, grabbing one of my arms and hauling me up against his chest. I stumbled a bit, not expecting it, and my heavy backpack making my momentum harder to stop. A nice, brick wall made from a warm, muscled chest did the trick of halting my progress forward.

  “Chris said you should sit with us. What are you even doing in calculus?” Liam said, whispering it.

  “It’s a pre-med requirement,” I answered honestly, then pushed myself off his chest with a two-handed approach and desperation. Liam was practically embracing me, and after Chris kissing me in the locker hallway, I was on high alert for stolen intimacies.

  My sister had so much to answer for when I got home to text her. What hadn’t she told me? Why were these guys acting so familiar with me?

  So far, they hadn’t even bullied me that much. It was all hecklers and minor players.

  “Fine,” I agreed to Liam once I had established proper distance again. I crossed my arms over my chest and made sure I projected unapproachable.

  Don’t look. Don’t see me.

  Liam laughed, good-naturedly. “You get the middle,” he said and then herded me towards the front where Chris was waiting.

  The long tables that served as desks could sit up to 4 people, or two lab partners, as they were intended for the science courses. I guess they didn’t have room for the calculus class in the regular rooms, so it got turfed here. As long as I could sit close to Chris that was all that mattered for my plan to work.

  Lies could make everything else I needed into reality.

  “I see that assertiveness training is really helping you ward off the creeps,” Chris said in lieu of a greeting.

  Well, we had just parted with his lips on mine less than ten minutes ago. Can’t say I had ever been kissed by someone as a greeting other than family. I didn’t bother saying ‘hi’ to him, either. A shrug sufficed as a response.

  “Books out, do problems 1-10 on page 25. Twenty minutes, pop quiz.”

  Our teacher came into the room and made that announcement instead of greeting any of us as well. I liked Mr. Donaldson already. A few students groaned and whined, but I ignored the others, getting out my books and starting the quiz. I didn’t think I would have an opportunity to set my plan in motion so early, but luck was on my side.

  The teacher hushed us and all that was heard was the scrape of pencils and the tap of calculators. The problems were simple. I finished first, then flipped over my test. Chris was second and Liam not that far behind. A few other students in the class put their hands up to indicate they were finished.

  “Thanks for the help, Chris,” I said as Mr. Donaldson came over to pick up my test.

  The boys hadn’t been paying attention to me, both with their tests flipped over and done as well and quietly chatting behind my back. My little bomber of a comment was still enough to get their attention even though I had only spoken barely above a whisper as a courtesy to the others in the class still writing.

  “Gen,” Mr. Donaldson said. He had also been taken aback but at least he remembered to call me by the nickname I told him I preferred. It sounded close enough to Jen to fool anyone else that was listening and not expecting that I really was a different person. “This was not a partner activity. You’re supposed to do the quiz on your own, so I can evaluate your skills.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. I let myself sound like a ditz on purpose.

  “I didn’t help her,” Chris said. He was worried and almost shouted his denial.

  “Yes, Chris didn’t help me at all. I did everything on my own. You can compare our tests. I’m sure you’ll see that I have all the answers right,” I said, shooting Chris a conspiratorial look.

  “Having all the answers right doesn’t really prove you did the test without cheating,” Mr. Donaldson pointed out.

  I had done all the work and not just the final answers, so when the tests were compared, it would be obvious that I really hadn’t cheated. I tried to do my solutions using unique approaches instead of the textbook answers. I didn’t want to be caught for cheating, something that would affect my marks too. This was just an eye-for-an-eye. Chris had gotten my sister accused falsely of cheating, so she had to write her test while observed, and now, I was going to give him a hint of the same type of scandal himself.

  The classroom was already gossiping. I could see that Chris was turning a bit red, possibly with embarrassment although I bet it was more with anger at me. He tried to play the wrong girl in the hallway with his kiss.

  “I expect you both to keep eyes on your own papers from now on,” Mr. Donaldson said. He turned over Chris’ test paper and then plunked his other pile of retrieved papers down with mine on top. A quick scan in front of us proved two things. No cheating had happened, and Chris was textbook.

  I rolled my eyes. “Are you sure he didn’t just copy his answers out of the textbook?” I said.

  Mr. Donaldson gave me a little laugh. “Why are you even in my class?” he said, gathering up the papers. “And stop giving Chris a hard time. He’s a good student.”

  “I need the pre-med req,” I said. “Are there assigned seats in this class?”

  “No, but wait to change until next class,” Mr. Donaldson said.

  He walked away and told the rest of the class to turn over their test papers, completed or not, for him to pick up since time was up.

  “I didn’t cheat,” Chris said to me once we were relatively alone.

  “Yeah, genius, that much is obvious. The limited creativity in your answers makes me wonder if you could even imagine a way to cheat,” I said, keeping my tone to bored.

  “This isn’t art class. They’re numbers and we write out solutions,” Chris retorted.

  “So can a computer program with the right algorithm. Come to art class sometime and I’ll show you how to use your big brain,” I said, turning sideways in my seat so Chris got my back.


  Liam’s dimpled grin greeted me. For a few minutes, I had forgotten he was sitting on my other side.

  “You’re up to something,” he said.

  I chose to look down at my textbook like it was something fascinating and tried to slow my heart down. It was worry from getting caught out too soon, not a reaction to being this close to my old crush and having him smile playfully at me.

  “Mr. Stone? Can I have your answer to question seven? Come up to the board,” Mr. Donaldson said, distracting said crush from making googly eyes at me.

  The childish comparison didn’t make it any easier on my libido as I looked up too soon and Liam winked at me before getting up. I scowled.

  “Are you going to kiss Liam, too?” whispered Chris behind me.

  I guess Liam was not on kissing terms with my sister. That was a relief. We had never shared a boyfriend before, although given all three of the guys I was now going to be facing were my sister’s bullies first, so I didn’t think boyfriends was quite the right term. Why had Jen kissed Chris anyway? That really was something she should have mentioned to me.

  “You seem flustered, that cute little blush you got when we talked about your proclivities at the lockers and you invited me to test you for the right height of Lou’s to kiss,” Chris said.

  That was a completely inaccurate way to frame our interaction. “How do you know I didn’t kiss Liam first?” I said to Chris, digging for more information while stabbing him at the same time.

  “Because I just kissed you before class and none of us have laid lips on your bitter mouth before this morning, so you were mine first,” Chris said. “This changes things,” he added, but more of a whisper to himself. He was keeping it low enough that Mr. Donaldson couldn’t hear but the rest of our classmates had good ears and the gossip was already raising the noise volume in the classroom.

  “Settle down,” Mr. Donaldson ordered. “Liam, that will suffice.”

  I blushed and furiously looked down at my textbook. “We’re on the next page,” Liam told me as he sat down.