Glass Heart Hero: A Dark High School Romance by Lindsey Iler (read with me .TXT) 📗

“At least I’m not fucking two guys behind their backs.”

“Sweetheart, you have that wrong.” I grin, happy to put this girl in her place. “They’re fully aware of each other.” I allow my face to fall, to seem sympathetic. “Are we jealous? Maybe your tits will come in by junior year, and someone will actually want to fuck you.”

She yanks her face from my grip and jumps to her feet. “What did you say to me?”

“You heard me, bitch.” I crowd her space, pressing my chest into Trish’s.

A hand wraps around my arm, and I’m jerked backwards, left to stare at Palmer’s backpack bouncing around as she drags me between the bookshelves. I can’t stop myself from flashing a middle finger at the sophomore before I’m out of sight.

Palmer tugs at my cheek. Her eyes are full of wonder and confusion.

I smack her arm away. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Seeing if this is a mask, because the Delaney I know doesn’t get easily rattled.” Palmer laughs. “Not like that at least.” Her finger jabs at Trish and her cronies.

“Good thing you were there to yank me away. I was ready to slap her.” I laugh, leaning against the stack.

“What has you on edge this morning?” She smiles, but it slips when my eyes fall to the book in her hand.

“What are you doing way back here?” I ask, trying hard to see the cover she clearly does not want me to see. I lurch forward and try to grab it.

She yanks it away, holding it over her head. “It’s nothing.”

I stand on my tiptoes and grasp enough of the cover to snatch it from her vise grip.

“What is this?”

“It’s literally nothing, Delaney.”

“We don’t keep secrets, so what is this?”

Palmer releases a deep breath and slips down the stacks until she’s seated across from me. She gestures for me to do the same, and when I’m sitting, I open the cover. It’s beaten up and ripped. This book has clearly been handled a lot, and if I were to guess, this is one of the oldest books in the library.

On the title page, THE GAUNTLET is printed in large, black, bold lettering.

“What’s The Gauntlet?” I ask, flipping to the next page.

“I honestly don’t know much.” She shrugs as I look at her for answers. She’s either not going to give them to me, or she’s telling the truth about being clueless.

My eyes skim page after page. Faded words in different handwritings fill the margins. Some entries have dates, while others don’t.

“This is absolutely absurd. Who would partake in this kind of barbaric game?” I question, but Palmer remains silent. “Students at Glass Heart and Hollow Hill have a long history of calling gauntlets.” I recite what I’m reading. “How did I not know any of this history?”

“Because it’s meant to stay secret.” Marek’s voice startles me so much, I slam the leather-bound cover closed and attempt to hide it. “No reason to try to be sneaky now.” He holds out his hand, and I offer him the book. He flips it open, running his hand over the margins. He doesn’t seem surprised by what he finds.

“Why is it meant to stay secret?” I ask the obvious question.

“When it first started, at the beginning when both academies opened, it was how things were handled. You had an argument? You handled it with a gauntlet. Two boys pined over the same girl? You called a gauntlet. You blamed someone for something? You demanded a gauntlet.” Marek sits across from me, joining Palmer.

“Let’s visit the second one, please,” I demand.

“If you blamed someone—”

I cut him off with my hand held up.

“No, not that one. The one before.” I circle a single finger, requesting he rewind his words.

“Two boys pined over the same girl.” Each word is quiet and slow.

“Bingo.” I point at him, my eyes wide. “That’s the one. Care to explain why my best friend is searching out a book regarding a gauntlet”– I hold up air quotes– “and why you’re here saying it’s meant to stay a secret?”

“They aren’t related.” Palmer rushes the words. She may be many things, but a good liar isn’t one of them.

“Gauntlets are antiquated and outdated, not to mention completely barbaric, so why is this relevant? Anyway, it doesn’t seem like one has been called since the seventies.” My attempt to make sense of this whole thing causes unease to settle into my stomach.

“The nineties, actually,” Marek corrects me. “The last one was called in the nineties when a boy from Hollow Hill was accused of raping a Glass Heart freshman at an end of the year party.”

“Why am I not surprised that taking things into our own hands has been a long running tradition on this campus?” I roll my eyes. “Now, explain why you were reading about it?” I stare at my best friend. “And try not to lie to me again because you’re really bad at it.”

“Well . . .” She looks at Marek for assistance.

“She’s going to find out eventually,” Marek whispers.

“Spill it, you two.” I kick at their feet. “It’s about me, right?”

“I wanted to tell you,” Palmer says, sincerity in her eyes.

“She wasn’t meant to know but keeping secrets at the glass house is nearly impossible. We didn’t want any of you to know until it was time.” Marek glances between us, begging us not to overreact.

“Time for what?” Palmer and I say in unison, as if we share a damn brain. Most days we do. What worries me worries her. What plagues her mind takes over every ounce of my attention.

“Breaker didn’t want to tell you until the first gauntlet was called.” Marek glances away, but quickly jumps in front of me when I go to find Breaker. “Nope, do not do this.”

“Did you honestly think I would sit here and allow this to go down?”

“Yeah, basically.” Marek helps Palmer off the floor. “It’s not like you have much choice. It is