Despicable, p.18
Despicable, page 18
“I didn’t ask if you had money,” Crispin said, pulling out a shiny silver credit card. It landed with a metallic thud on the table. He leaned back and pushed his hair out of his face.
“Thanks for dinner,” I said sheepishly.
His cheeks were red.
“I wasn’t... I wanted to make you feel better,” Crispin stammered over his words.
I folded my arms and shrugged, “Why? Nothing can take it away.”
“I know,” Crispin said, “But... I like you, Amina.”
I snorted. Crispin did not like me. I was an oddity to him, not a curvy girl like Sarah Clifford or any of the other girls at school who would throw themselves at Crispin given the chance. He only liked the idea that I was a challenge. He might’ve also liked the idea of a rebound, which I hated.
I told him as much haughtily, “You’re horny. There’s a difference.”
Crispin surprised me by laughing.
“Sure,” he said, “I’m horny. But I like you. Very much. And if you ever need to talk about... this... we can.”
“I doubt we ever will,” I grumbled.
My attitude didn’t seem to bother Crispin. He reached for my hand again and I didn’t jerk away. His thumb touched my wrist, fiddling with the sharp bone and then he sighed.
“I’m sure Devin reacted like a twat,” he said. “If you told him, that is. And I’m sorry if I’ve done the same. But you didn’t deserve what happened, Amina. I know you hate me and that’s my fault for being a cunt. But you didn’t deserve pain like that. I’d like to meet your father. I’d like to get revenge.”
I didn’t confirm that I’d told Devin. Crispin only assumed because of our previous relationship, but even then he assumed more depth between me and Devin than what truly existed.
“You couldn’t get revenge,” I said, annoyed that he seemed to think I hadn’t thought of that, “He’s the Governor of Texas.”
“No one can escape fate, Amina,” Crispin said ominously and then he took my hand to his lips, “I’m sorry if kissing your cheek was too much.”
“It wasn’t,” I admitted, “I overreacted.”
“Okay,” he said, “Right. There’s something else. The night I hurt you... I... I made light of... sex stuff. I wanted to scare you. But I’m sorry.”
“Mission accomplished,” I muttered.
Crispin touched me again and I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t pulling away. He smelled good. Maybe that was it.
“I wanted to take you,” he whispered, “I’d never felt like that in my life... that I’d want a girl so badly, I’d be willing to harm her. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t hurt you.”
“Don’t expect me to be grateful,” I snapped, tapping my combat boots impatiently on the ground. We should leave.
“No,” he whispered, wetting his lips, “I’m the one who’s grateful. You don’t understand, Amina. I’m not a psychopath. I’m at least 87% sure. I’ve given myself every chance, I’ve gone close to every dark urge and yet... something stops me.”
He touched my hair and then jerked his hand back like he remembered the motion was forbidden. His hand moved again, from my hair to my cheek. Then it fell away. I didn’t know what to make of the touch. I pulled away from him and ignored it. He felt sorry for me, that was all.
I couldn’t read more into his pretty blue eyes.
“We should go back to campus,” I said. “I’ve got... homework.”
“You do homework?” Crispin said jokingly.
I sighed. He probably knew I wasn’t the type to put homework over having fun, but I had to be serious. I couldn’t let this escalate further than it had already. Crispin wasn’t mine.
“I have to if I don’t want to get kicked out,” I replied.
He responded well to my firmness, but his lips pursed in a thin, uncomfortable line.
“Fine,” Crispin said, “Campus it is.”
He seemed disappointed, maybe. Or angry. But I just couldn’t let this go any further. I’d exposed myself enough to Crispin and he exposed himself enough to me.
I couldn’t let him in. It scared me too much.
Chapter 23
Chlamydia Buddy
Crispin didn’t play any music as he drove back to campus. His body was still tense, but he didn’t seem angry with me. He made conversation about England, mostly, asking me what parts of the country I visited and describing a couple of his favorite spots in London.
I relaxed a bit, despite the tension between us at the restaurant. It was totally dark by the time we got back and as we drove closer to campus, I began to feel regret about our night ending so soon. But what more was there for us to do or talk about? Crispin was still… off-limits.
He said our dinner was a date, but I didn’t even know if he’d broken up with Sarah completely. I was sure my group chat would have been alight with the gossip if that had been the case.
The entire chlamydia situation taught me that I didn’t want any more drama with guys or to get involved in any love triangles. My efforts to numb myself with Devin had gone too far and I didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes with Crispin.
He parked his car in his secret spot but then he didn’t get out right away. He just sat there, his long limbs struggling to fit in the front seat because he was so tall. Crispin looked over his shoulder at me. His jawline was so sharp it could cut glass.
“Amina,” he said, his English accent stretching out the “A” sounds in my name, “If I didn’t have chlamydia, I’d be doing everything in my power to sleep with you.”
“Listen, chlamydia buddy. Maybe we’d better break up with our cheating partners and just... stay friends.”
I’d already broken up with Devin, but I didn’t have any clarification about Crispin’s relationship with Sarah. If we were going to hang out ever again, which I didn’t even know if I wanted, I didn’t want her hanging over us.
“Friends?” Crispin sat up, “Like you won’t glare at me when you’re with your judgmental little good girls.”
“They’re not judgmental,” I snapped, “And you’re friends with monsters like Kaito Cammish and Aug—
Crispin chuckled, “I didn’t choose my brother.”
“I know,” I said, “But he’s a dick. If my friends are dicks, your friends are dicks.”
“Okay,” Crispin said, “Secret friends, then.”
“Whatever, Crispin.”
“Can you keep a secret?” He asked, wiggling his brows in that annoying way.
“Sure. Whatever. Secret friends.”
He pumped his fist and then said, “Can I get your phone number?”
“Why?”
“So I can send you dick pics.”
When he saw my reaction he laughed again.
“Sorry,” He said, “bad joke. No dick pics.”
I gave him my phone number — against my better judgment. Crispin nodded and stuffed his phone into his pocket. He couldn’t stop grinning.
“Stop that,” I grumbled, “You are such an idiot.”
“Keep me a secret, darling. I’ll text you next time I’m hungry.”
I got out of his car and hurried back to my dorm in the opposite direction from Crispin – at my insistence, not his. There were two ways you could go from his secret spot, so I went down the path closest to the girl’s dorm. Crispin texted me throughout the walk back, expecting me to keep him updated on my journey. I was just fine and texted him that once I got back to my dorm.
I walked down our hallway and shoved my phone into my pocket as it buzzed with another text. I threw the door open to my bedroom without thinking. And shrieked. Mass Destruction. Katrina wasn’t in the room but her things had been thrown out onto the floor and every inch of her room destroyed. Someone tore down her posters and ripped her Bible.
Whoever had done this had taken a tube of Katrina’s lipstick and wrote on her mirror, “WHORE.”
Her dresser had been toppled over onto the ground and her underwear spilled out. The whole room reeked of something disgusting that I couldn’t place, the smell was just nasty as hell. Nasty enough that I nearly threw up my delicious ass dinner.
I doubled back and slammed my back against the wall as I coughed aggressively from the scent. What the fuck? No one had messed with my stuff, just Katrina’s.
“Help!” I screamed, “Someone help!”
Our prefect — a Year 13 named Emily Ross who spent most of her time baking pot brownies and watching Love Island re-runs — emerged from her room in a white robe with a white towel around her hair.
“Amina, is everything okay?”
“Our room!” I shrieked, “Someone broke into our room!”
The door shut momentarily and Emily emerged with a giant cricket bat.
“Show me where the bastards are?”
I pointed into the bedroom. Emily strode in bravely and I followed. The smell made me sick to my stomach again. If stupid Crispin hadn’t encouraged me to eat, I wouldn’t have had anything to throw up.
“Amina,” Emily said sharply, “Stay here. I’m going to get the LR and LC dorm heads. Sit right outside the room and don’t move.”
“Katrina’s not here. Should I get her?”
“Don’t let her in here,” Emily said sternly, “This could seriously traumatize her. Sit right there.”
My stomach gurgled as I sat against the wall across from my room. Emily shut the door and changed into sweatpants and a cropped pink hoodie before she strutted off to find assistance. My head was swimming. Who could have done this to Katrina? My first thought was Daniella. But Danny hated me, not Katrina. No one hated Katrina.
I thought about the Bible pages sitting in puddles of piss. My heart sank. This would break Katrina. She tried so hard to stay out of trouble. I called her but she didn’t answer.
A few minutes later, Vi and Katrina came up the stairs falling over each other and laughing hysterically. I stood and Vi greeted me, surprised.
“Amina!” She exclaimed, “I thought you were coming to dinner.”
My stomach sank. I’d forgotten about dinner with them. I’d been with Crispin. Talking to him. Enjoying the company of the boy who got my best friend burned. Guilt rushed through me.
“Why are you standing outside?” Katrina said, looking at our room door like it might have been the latest victim of demonic possession.
“Don’t go in there,” I said, “Emily said not to let you see it. Something happened.”
Katrina’s face fell.
“What’s happened?”
“Someone broke into our room and vandalized it.”
“They vandalized your stuff?” Katrina said.
“No,” I answered, “Just yours.”
Katrina’s lips pursed.
“Weren’t you here? You skipped dinner. I thought you’d be here,” she said, but she sounds like she’s accusing me.
“I wasn’t on campus,” I explained.
Katrina and Violet’s eyes narrowed and their suspicious gaze fixed on me.
“Where were you then?” Violet asks.
“With a friend.”
Katrina rolled her eyes, “Are you serious? You’re back with Devin, aren’t you?”
Her disappointment made me feel worse. I’d done much worse than get back together with Devin. It was like they could see me with Crispin: filthy, dirty, evil Crispin Barclay.
My guilt made me want to sink into the ground. He kissed me. And I didn’t hate it. I’d wanted more from him but I didn’t allow myself. Restraint, Amina. That’s what America needs.
Before I could answer Katrina, Emily returned with Mr. Gibbs (our dorm head’s clueless husband) and Dean Leonard who wore a 1980s style aerobics costume for her evening power walk. Mrs. Gibbs was away for the night visiting her parents in Cornwall, which she rarely did. It was just our luck that she was out. Mr. Gibbs wasn’t exactly the most competent dorm-husband and he seemed to find the existence of young women too awkward to handle.
We flattened our backs against the wall. Katrina said a polite good evening before Dean Leonard or Mr. Gibbs could. Mr. Gibbs muttered something about the weather and this time of year and then he looked pleadingly at Emily, our prefect, for guidance on handling the situation. Dorm heads often left discipline up to the prefects, but this surely would have landed firmly in Mr. Gibbs jurisdiction, even if the job of running the dorm was technically up to his wife.
“We need to assess the vandalism,” Dean Leonard said, “We’ll have you enter one at a time.”
“Are we certain?” Mr. Gibbs added uselessly. Nobody responded to him.
“This isn’t my room, Dean Leonard,” Vi said.
Leonard nodded and entered, her nose already wrinkled in disgust. Our dean couldn’t hold back several expletives as she entered the trashed room. When she read the mirror out loud, I could tell Katrina wanted to sink into the ground.
Dean Leonard said more swear words than I’d ever heard from an English person before.
“It’s a bloody mess in there,” Agatha finished after her swear-laden rant. “It smells horrid and this is absolutely unacceptable. Bloody fucking hell, Katrina started tearing up.
“What’s gone on in there? Why would someone target me?” Katrina bubbled up, her tears finally spilling. She was so meticulous about how she kept her things that I could tell this truly hit her hard.
Vi put her arm around Katrina.
“I don’t know,” Violet said, “But we’ll get through this.”
Katrina sobbed and wiped her tears away, the white gold charms on her bracelet clinking together like champagne glasses at a cocktail party.
Since I’d discovered the mess, Dean Leonard and Emily called me in first to discuss the damage. I explained everything, leaving out the part where I’d illegally zipped off campus with a smooth white lie that I’d gone for a long walk in the woods nearby for exercise. That was perfectly allowed before sundown.
They held Katrina’s hands as she entered the room to find all her possessions destroyed. She shrieked. I expected Katrina to react badly, but not like this.
She sprinted out of the room and Emily ran after her. Vi looked over at me and said, “How bad is it?”
“Horrible. I don’t know who could have done this to her.”
“Can I go in?” Vi asked the dean, who nodded and allowed her in. Violet squeezed my hand as we entered the room.
“Bloody hell,” she muttered, “This is awful.”
“Her Bible and everything,” I said, “Who would do this to Katrina?”
“I dunno,” Violet said, “Maybe one of the usual suspects. Dani. Misaki. Crispin. August.”
Crispin. My stomach twisted. He didn’t do this. But I couldn’t exactly say he hadn’t without explaining what happened between us. We’re friends now. But it had to be a secret. Our other friends would never understand. But we got each other now.
“Maybe,” I said noncommittally, hoping that she wouldn’t settle on Crispin, but blame Daniella instead. “We did piss Dani off recently.”
“We put her in her place,” Vi said. “I’d bet it was Crispin. He’s bloody horrible.”
“But why would he do this?” I asked, trying not to act too defensive. I wanted to shift blame away from him because I was his alibi, but also because I didn’t think he would do something like this or arrange for it to happen.
Dani seemed like a more likely suspect, but Vi was fixed on Crispin. She hated him so much and seeing her loathing up close made me feel guilty as hell for enjoying my time with him.
Violet snorted and continued emphatically, “I’m going to tell Dean Leonard who my suspects are. I’m tired of letting them walk all over us. Dani, Crispin, Kaito or whoever did this will learn to leave us alone!”
“What if we get in trouble for the water balloons?”
“That’s a harmless prank,” Vi scoffed. “This is bloody serious. I don’t care, we have to say something.”
Maybe nothing could stop Violet on a warpath. I just hoped she didn’t land on blaming Crispin. He would probably have no problem exposing me if it meant having an alibi.
My phone buzzed.
Crispin: Hey lips
Chapter 24
Disruptive Behavior
Me: don’t call me lips
Crispin: wyd
Me: someone vandalized Katrina’s room
Crispin: who is that?
Me: my roommate
Crispin: one of the randoms
I ignored Crispin. He could still be cold and he still thought that my friends were losers. In the morning, he’d sent me a funny picture of a corgi which I laughed at. His next text didn’t make me smile. A picture of his chlamydia medication with the caption, “Don’t forget yours.”
All the girls in the dorm joined to help Katrina clean up her room the night before. She called her parents who wired her £15,000 so she could buy new clothes and every girl in the dorm wanted to be a part of the shopping trip. Katrina excluded me for “dressing like I was clinically depressed” and invited Violet and Sarah Brinkley along instead. Ella was still aggressively petitioning for an invite by spamming the group chat with pictures of Kate Middleton’s best looks.
I didn’t see the point in owning clothing that wasn’t black. My mother had forced all manner of colors on me as a child and treated me like a Barbie. I didn’t want getting dressed to involve much fussing and I didn’t want to look like the preppy white lady she dressed me up as my entire childhood.
My mother hated black, but I didn’t. I loved having a standard wardrobe that was simple. Plus after a while, the shades of black faded differently and it was almost like having a wardrobe of grey and black, which was enough variety for me.
Mom would have killed me for dressing like this if she knew. That was all the fun. I’m eighteen. My parents don’t control me anymore.
At school, my proclivity toward black didn’t matter because of the uniform. I spent extra time helping Katrina get ready as she harrumphed and struggled to squeeze into one of my skirts. I’d learned my lesson telling her she wouldn’t fit into my sweats once.
