Jacob Hale: Enemy’s Secret Toy

Jacob

The iron gates of the school loomed against the clouded sky, their sharp points shimmering with the morning dew.

I felt the cold air hit my face as I tightened my grip on my backpack, the fabric making weird noises under my sweaty hands. I couldn’t shake off the last words from my uncle. “Don’t embarrass us.” They hung stiffly on my chest, almost making it impossible to breathe.

Kenny, my cousin, had already disappeared into the crowd of the bad boys, their laughter ringing out like tiny shards of glass.

I stood on the sidelines, my oversized shoes… a hand-me-down gift from Kenny, a hint of his expensive cologne still lingering… scraping hard against the old tiled floor. It felt like the ground itself was trying to swallow me whole.

“An orphaned charity case.”

The whispers were loud and clear. They moved through the noise of fancy shoes and blazers, wrapping painfully around me. I kept my head down, but the words still gnawed at the back of my neck.

The Spanish classroom was supposed to be empty during the third period. I knew that well enough. I’d been hanging out there every Thursday for weeks now since Kenny had deliberately spilled paint on my only nice shirt in front of the whole drama club.

The door creaked as I pushed it open, eager to get my hour of peace and silence, and maybe work on my homework too.

But that plan fell apart as soon as I walked in.

Daniel Cobbs slumped in the teacher’s chair like he owned the place, and he kind of did. His legs flopped across the desk. His shoes were fancy, and he had one of the juniors kneeling by his feet… was it Paxton or Patrick? His head moved up and down between Daniel’s thighs, and I could hear the slurp sounds as Daniel kept pushing his head further down.

I froze as I watched Daniel’s lip part slightly, letting out a growl.

He suddenly looked up.

Our eyes met and time felt like it stopped.

My mouth turned dry. Daniel’s blue eyes, like the ocean, darkened as he scanned me. The junior scrambled away, wiping the saliva off his mouth in a panic.

Daniel just sat there, staring, his smirk dangerous as he flexed his fingers against the chair.

My feet finally moved and I ran.

The hallway stretched around me, the portraits of old principals glaring down as I burst through the door and into the field. The cold air burned in my lungs, but I couldn’t stop, and the pounding in my chest only grew thicker.

At dinner, the dining hall was loud with the clinking of silverware and bragging from boys who had everything. Kenny threw a carrot at my head and grinned widely.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, cousin.”

My hand shook as I held my spoon tightly, scraping against my plate like nails on a board. I could hardly focus on the talks about cars and last season’s whatever. All I could hear was the awful sounds from earlier, the squeak of leather when Daniel shifted.

My uncle’s words echoed in my mind. “This scholarship is your only chance. One fuck up, and it’s gone.” He’d said it over breakfast while tapping his expensive pen on the table.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over the table. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was, but I did anyway, feeling that stormy gaze on me.

Daniel stood there with a tray in one hand, a grin sharp as a knife. “Mind if I join you?” His voice was smooth, the kind that makes you comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time.

Kenny was excited at the chance and quickly made space. “Danny! Sure, have a seat!”

Daniel slid onto the bench, his thigh brushing against mine, sending a jolt through me. He leaned in, his cologne engulfing us, warm and familiar, reminding me of my mom’s old perfume collection.

“New kid,” Daniel whispered, his breath warm against my ear, “let’s have a chat.”

The locker room after practice smelled awful. Like dirt and sweat, and the steam lingered on the walls. I took my sweaty shirt off but was startled when the door slammed shut.

Daniel leaned against it, a towel hanging low on his hips, water running down his chest. The lights made him look almost unreal.

“You have a choice here,” he said, his tone almost calm. He stepped closer, and I found myself pressed against the lockers.

“Do exactly as I say…” Daniel’s fingers grazed the skin above my waistband, and I shivered… “or I’ll make sure you don’t graduate here.”

I felt my stomach drop.

The scholarship.

A roof over my head.

The last link to a good life.

Daniel stepped even closer, and I could see the seriousness in his eyes. Water slid down his chest, following a path down to where his towel sat.

“You don’t belong here,” Daniel murmured, brushing my lip with his thumb. “But I can make you fit.”

I stood there, underneath him, shaking. I tried to speak but couldn’t find the right words or any words at all. It seemed a lump had just suddenly grown in my throat.

Daniel scanned my face for a little longer and with subtle taps on my face he said, “You have until tomorrow to give me an answer.”

I watched him turn, the towel dropped down his legs and my heart almost leaped out of my chest when I suddenly realized Daniel was on a short and he’d dropped the towel on purpose.

The next morning, I found my locker smeared with red and almost trashed.

It wasn’t paint, but something far worse. It looked fresh, clear against the metal. Inside, snuggled between my maths and biology book, was a slip of white paper.

It read.

“Welcome to the dungeon fag.”