Chapter 2 #3
I am going to nail these next two years, and I’ll graduate at the top of the class.
I'm going to go to an Ivy League college on another scholarship, and then I'm going to become…
actually, I haven't figured that out yet.
I'm still researching what the highest paying industry is and whether I could work in it for forty years without wanting to kill myself.
Mr. T stepped away after leaving me in my new room, with promises to come back later and show me around.
After unpacking and stashing my bags away, I get down on my hands and knees and tap away quietly until I find a suitable floor board to pull up.
It’s easy enough to work the wood with my knife, and once it’s out, I slide the tiny, but heavy, safe I’ve brought with me into the gap.
I use some old shirts to stuff the space and mask the hollow crevice from others who would think to tap around, then I slide the slat back over it.
What the safe holds is worth more than my life.
There’s a text waiting on my phone, and I don't have to look at it to know that it's Matteo. He's the only person with my number that didn’t promise to ice me out and, really, he's the last piece of my old life left. The same icy fingers of fear creep up my spine as I read his text.
This place doesn't feel the same without you. Come home soon.
I snort, shaking my head as I throw my phone onto my new bed, but there isn't much I can say to him without some sort of consequence.
Matteo D’Ardo was a foster kid, four years older than me. We met at school, and he took me under his wing even before my mom died and I wound up in the system.
He’s dangerous.
More dangerous than any of these rich kids could ever be. They play pretend in their safe little bubble, but Matteo is the Jackal. He controls more than my home city; he owns the entire state. If I’m absolutely honest with myself, I can admit that in a lot of ways, he owns me, too.
Keep me in the loop. I'll be back for the party and trials next summer.
I hit send and pray my reply is enough to get him off my back for a while.
The public school I left behind has a reputation for churning out drug dealers, gangsters, and single mothers. If I don’t make it at Hannaford Prep, my options are limited. I don’t want to follow Matteo. I don’t want to settle for a desperate life.
I shove the phone into my back pocket and head down to the dining hall.
Whispers follow me and it's creepy as fuck.
It's pretty clear that not only am I not welcome but that the other students actively resent me being here.
I wonder what, exactly, the other scholarship students have done to leave this kind of impression?
Or maybe they can tell where I’m from and it’s the Bay they have a problem with.
The dining hall is a long room that resembles a wide corridor.
It’s in the center of the building, so there are no windows and the room is lit only by massive chandeliers.
There’s only room for a single wooden table that could easily seat two hundred people stretched across the length of the space.
Hannaford is very exclusive, but I know there must be more students attending than that.
At the far end, there are teachers already eating, but there are gaps everywhere.
I only spare the logistics of mealtimes a moment's thought before I go to stand in line. It moves so slowly that it gives me enough time to remind myself of my plan to keep my head down, my nose clean, and to not draw attention to myself for the next two years while I ride this thing out.
My plan is immediately tested, and I get to hear more of the crap that's being said about me.
Fun. One girl says I slept with Mr. Trevelen to get the scholarship, and I turn to get a decent look at her, to be sure I can pick her out of a crowd later in case I need to.
The arrogance in this room is astounding.
I need to build up a shield to it all. I need to become immune so I can make it through my time here.
The food looks incredible, and I heap it onto my plate. I'm way too skinny, the type of thin that only happens after years of food scarcity, and I'm licking my lips at the thought of eating three big meals a day.
Once my tray is full, I start to look for a seat that isn't surrounded by glaring students. I end up at the far end, close to the teachers, and no other students within ten chairs of me. It's actually perfect.
Until the far door opens and they walk in.
The twins are flanked by a guy so gorgeous that I’m stunned, and it takes me a second to realize it's the guy from the courthouse yesterday. He’s a fucking Hannaford student, standing there looking absolutely devastating in his uniform, and there are girls frothing at the mouth left, right, and center over both him and Ash.
Avery is looking down her nose at them all.
I notice again that the teachers eye her like she's a ticking time bomb.
Interesting.
I watch them discreetly as I eat, the subtle art of surveillance being something I picked up from my time with the Jackal.
Ash is holding two plates, and as Avery picks out food, he's filling one up for her.
It's kind of sweet how close they are, how effortlessly they're taking care of each other, but it’s also completely foreign to me.
The other boy is laughing and joking with them both, but his laugh is dark and twisted, like he's making fun of everything around him.
When they're done, they head to the table, and a hush falls over the room. I can practically see students praying they decide to sit with them, like it'll somehow boost their social status. This school is so weird.
Avery leads the boys to sit across the table and a few seats down from me. The stunning guy pulls out a chair for her. I know they have no intention of speaking to me, so it makes it easier to duck my head and eat, listening to the scraps of conversations around me.
“Morrison is going to start mid-semester; he's still in Europe doing his little singing thing.”
“Lucky us, we get a reprieve from all of the little shit’s revelers. If I have to find one more pair of lacy panties stuffed in his door frame, I will retire on the spot.”
The explicit language from a teacher makes me smirk, but I don't look to see which one said it. Every new piece of information I stumble on has me questioning what kind of school this place really is because the website didn’t mention any of this.
Shaking my head, I try to focus on my dinner and eating as much of it as my stomach will allow. I've never eaten such good and flavorful food in my life, and I'm looking forward to being here for that alone.
“I can see the hole from across the table. I'm ordering you a new one, so swallow your useless pride,” Avery says, and even with the harshness of the words, her voice is much nicer when it's not directed at me.
“I don't fucking need a new one. It's a design statement. Leave it be, Floss,” the other boy says, and even though he's swearing at her, I can hear the affection he has for her as well. I can also feel Avery seething.
“Don't call me that here. And the only statement you’re making is ‘too poor to care’. Do you want a repeat of last year?”
That's the second reference to something happening last year I've heard, and now I'm interested to find out what they're going on about.
I glance up and make eye contact with the hot guy by accident.
I hold it for a second before looking away because I don't want it to appear like I'm scared of his attention, even though I'm beginning to sweat in his general proximity.
Get a hold of yourself.
“Who's the new kid?”
“Lips.” Avery stretches my name out, and it sounds so juvenile coming from her. Both boys snicker, and I roll my eyes where they can't see.
Then, Ash sums up the opinion of me that the whole room has already come to.
“Who gives a fuck? She's Mounty trash.”
If only that were true.