»» Prologue

Jackson's POV

Freezing droplets of water trickled down the back of my neck as I brushed out my soaked, blonde locks of hair. My towel, which clung firmly against my waist, rode up my leg as I stepped from out of the bathroom into my long, eery hallway which was speckled with doodles that my little brother had proudly taped against our walls. Sunlight poured in from the windows and placed warm kisses over my bare, freckled skin. I smiled to myself at the thought of today; My first day back to school after the long, boring winter break.

Within an hour, I found myself in a new hallway that was littered with gossiping teenagers and your typical lock clacking, door squeaking echoes that you would find in any other high school. My own footsteps were the most prominent sound in this scene, leaving powerful clicks behind me as I approached the double doors I have been waiting two weeks to open.

Across these doors were two strips of worn, peeling duct tape with broad letters markered across them.

Room 127: The Smile Club ☻

Although, if you were placed in the right classes, and knew the right people, you would know that these strips of tape were actually for a school club much more sinister than some preppy, happy 'smile club.' No, if you knew who I truly was, and the other three masterminds who sat behind these walls, you would know that this tape actually says:

Room 127: The Breakup Club ❦

I could only smile to reminisce the past 2 years of dedication I had poured into this room. Starting as a freshman, I joined The Breakup Club after my friend's older sister had pestered me about how good looking I was and how I would be a perfect member to help her restart this decade-old organization. This girl who recruited me gave me these papers called 'request forms,' which were basically notes written by high school students- just like me!- who wanted a relationship to be broken up. Attached to these forms would be various amounts of cash.

Some people were utterly heartbroken about a new power couple arising between popular entities and would send us a request to tear it up in any means possible. Others would be envious of their rivals having a hot, new girlfriend/boyfriend and would send in a request to rip them apart to regain a toxic sense of self-pride. Whatever the problem was, we'd rush to help like love-fighting superheroes.

Being a freshman targeted as a wimp by older grades, I needed to be strategic about fulfilling these requests. With the stealth of a bank robber, I would carefully attempt to understand a person's personality and the relationship they were in, then I would consult the rest of the club members for help. Typically, because the club members had the looks of supermodels, one of them could easily slither in between a relationship as 'bait.' This meant that they would seduce one of the members into either cheating on or breaking up with their significant other. A method as horrible as this one seemed flimsy and pathetic, yet it worked almost 90% of the time. And if it failed for some unknown reason, we would resort to Plan B.

My sophomore year was easier for me because I could then sew myself into my own plans. If a freshman, sophomore, or maybe even junior couple was requested to be broken up, I was finally a little bit older and more likely to be able to seduce one of them. Older members in the club helped me perfect my flirtatious methods to where I became a dreamboat of my grade. I grew even closer and more committed to my clubroom at that time.

And then, I was in junior year. My prime time to shine.

Freshmans always seemed desperate to date people in older grades anyways, so I was a person of attraction to them. Same with sophomores. Juniors typically stuck in their own age range, disgusted by younger groups and intimidated by the seniors. And the seniors were careless, mindless creatures who didn't care who they got with as long as it wasn't a freshman. (Because an 18 year old dating a 14 year old wasn't very pretty at all.)

Now, I could almost always complete my own requests without consulting other club members. And they all pretty much fended for themselves too.

So why did we go by 'The Smile Club?'

Because the school staff would definitely close down our club if they found out that we were the reason why the entire school had been deemed as 'the school with the highest heartbroken rates in the world.' It wasn't specified in the student handbook, but it seemed quite probable that our club was against the rules. So we masked our rebellious deeds by slapping on an innocent title and describing ourselves as 'volunteer work' when teachers came by to inspect us.

At our prime, the club had 6 active members who fulfilled requests. Now that two of those people have graduated, we've been knocked down to 4 members, including myself. We knew we would need to recruit new people before we graduated. But because three of us were juniors, and the other one a senior, we tended to stall it off and avoid the complications.

These three other people in the club went by the names of Angel, Lola and Brett.

Angel was a tall, slender girl with glamorous locks of blonde hair that fell to her slim waist. She had the gleaming green eyes that could trap you in a trance, and the skin-tight clothes that would make any guy take a second to gawk. She was well aware of her power over guys and used her teasing, flirtatious personality to wrap them around her fingertips. Although, the reason why she was heartless enough to join a club that destroys people was because her lifelong best friend- and childhood crush- Noah turned down her feelings. He proceeded to disappear from her life completely after that, and the betrayal from such a traumatic moment corrupted her to the point where all she wanted was to see people as unhappy and miserable as herself.

Even though Lola was also a part of our club, she wasn't anywhere near as insane as Angel. With bulky glasses and ginormous sweatshirts, she was what we would call the 'brains' of our group. She knew how keep everything under control when things got hectic, was skilled in gathering information, knew how to construct perfect conversations, and- just as expected- had fantastic grades. The reason why Lola could stoop low enough to contribute to our awful cause was because her household was very poor, and she needed the money to afford the run-down apartment she lived in with her father. Each request she received was worth around $100-$200, so as long as she got 3 requests each month, she could afford rent. Her dad covered the rest of the costs with his part time job.

Brett was a completely different story. He joined the club merely because he was bored. Girls were attracted to his chiseled jawline and perfectly molded hair like a magnet, so having him on our team was simply just fitting. Although, he was a bit cocky and unmotivated, so the fact that he was the senior of our group was probably for the best.

And me? I had my own sick and twisted reasons for joining this club.

We each all had our own individual methods for carrying out requests.

At first, once we received a request, we would each put in our combined efforts into it to carry it out and split the cash equally. But now, we all were like money-hungry pigs who wanted to take as much as we could for ourselves, so we didn't collaborate on requests anymore. Instead of each letter starting with "Dear Breakup Club," they would now start with "Dear Angel" or "Dear Lola" or "Dear Brett" or "Dear Jackson." We each had our own individual traits, so our clients would pick which one of us to pay based off of that. It was easier that way.

The entire thought of a 'love life' became completely destroyed for me. I knew what people were truly like and how flimsy love really was, so I didn't legitimately partake in it anymore. My heart was pitch black, cold and dead. I still was enthusiastic in other aspects of my life, but because I never really felt as if my bonds with people were reliable anymore,  The Breakup Club slowly became my everything. It was what I looked forward to each day, and giving my entire reputation, heart and soul into it seemed effortless. The money I gained from it was an added bonus. In all honesty, with the mindset I had, I probably would've joined the club for free.

I planted my next step into the ground with all my might, and heaved open the double doors with a beaming grin plastered across my face.

"Hi guys! Welcome back from winter break."