2. Margo
Chapter 2
Margo
L ate. Very, very late.
When I eventually find the correct classroom on the second floor of the huge school, the teacher stops mid-sentence and glares at me.
“Sorry.” I pass her the pink paper from the guidance counselor that explains who I am. I found it on the floor after Caleb disappeared.
The teacher, Mrs. Stonewater, scans the note and exhales. “We have a new student. Margo Wolfe.”
Someone gasps. I bite my lip as chatter immediately rises around us. The teacher lifts her eyes from the note to look pointedly around the room, and they lapse back into silence.
“Take a seat,” she says to me.
My gaze catches on Caleb—the bastard left me, and it took me too long to figure out where the hell I was going—and the boys around him. There’s an open seat directly in front of Caleb or all the way against the windows. I start to move to the far one, but someone throws their bag on it.
I pause, my face heating.
Slowly, I walk toward Caleb. He raises an eyebrow at me, and I look away. I sink down into the chair in front of him. The weight of his stare is like a laser. He’s going to burn a hole through my skull… Either that, or I’m freaking imagining it.
When did he get so beautiful? Dark hair and light gray-blue eyes, muscles packed onto his lean frame. He grew, too. In elementary school, we were the same height. He’s got at least six inches on me now.
And hate.
Where did the hate come from?
“Ms. Wolfe?”
I jerk. “Yes?”
The whole class snickers.
“I was asking if you’d had a chance to read through the syllabus.”
I slink lower. “No, ma’am.”
She pauses at my desk and sets down a textbook. “See me after class.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“No, ma’am. Yes, ma’am,” the boy next to me parrots under his breath. “Such a fucking saint for a coke-whore’s daughter.”
More laughter, which the teacher seems fine with ignoring. Her back is to us as she writes on the board, and it seems like I hold more attention in the room than her.
If only the floor could open and swallow me whole.
Coming back was a mistake. I should’ve insisted on public school. At least that way, the bullies wouldn’t know my history. They would’ve made fun of my secondhand clothes and haircut, but they wouldn’t have picked at my past. My parents.
“You planning on snorting up under the bleachers at lunch?” The guy leans across the aisle toward me. “Like mother, like daughter?”
How have I become an insta-pariah?
I try to ignore him, but he nudges my chair, shaking the whole thing, until I face him. I’m poised to say something— anything —but the words lodge in my throat. The vitriol in his glare stops me. He’s almost as hateful as Caleb.
Light-brown hair, his nose his most prominent feature. I recognize him.
Ian Fletcher.
One of Caleb’s friends from elementary school. Are they still close? They must be if he automatically takes up a stance against me. Pairing that with Caleb’s reaction…
“Take a picture,” Ian suggests. “It’ll last longer than your memory.”
I face forward and focus on Mrs. Stonewater. She’s talking about the Civil War. I open my textbook and try to find where we are, keeping my head down.
Blend in . That’s all I need to do.
I go from class to class, managing to slip in before the bell every time except once. The teacher reads the note from the guidance counselor, and I find a seat toward the back.
And that’s how I manage to stay alive until lunchtime.
It takes forever to find my locker, where I drop off my bag and remove the nearly crushed peanut butter and jelly sandwich Robert made for me and a water bottle. I thought I might be okay navigating since I had been to the elementary school, but this building is a whole different beast.
I roll my shoulders, happy to have the weight off my back, and follow the straggling students toward the cafeteria.
Ahead of me, Caleb and his friends are making their way in the same direction. I automatically slow down, keeping my gaze on them. I hug the lockers and hope they don’t see me, while I drink in everything I can about them.
There are four, including Caleb. All muscular and lean. From the back, their heights and hair are the only distinguishing things about them.
I’ve seen some tough shit in public school, and with foster siblings, but nothing compares to the sheer arrogance that leaks out of these boys.
The feeling that at any minute they can turn around and spot me forces me to move even slower. Even quieter.
Suddenly, an arm is looped through mine, and I’m dragged down a side hall.
“Hey—”
“Quiet.” The girl attached to me hurries me down this hallway. Her thick hair is light brown with golden highlights, and her straight-across bangs are slightly overgrown, covering her eyebrows and touching her lashes. She’s about my height, maybe an inch shorter, and wears the uniform with the pants option.
Does she think I’m someone else?
“Never go into the cafeteria with a bagged lunch,” she murmurs. “Are you insane?”
Um…
Technically, I have a sandwich in a plastic bag and a bottle of water. Robert promised to get more interesting food after work, but they didn’t know what I’d like. And this girl is still pulling.
“I—”
“Rhetorical question,” she interrupts.
We stop in front of huge, solid oak double doors. She whips out a key and unlocks one. When she yanks it open, a rather grand library comes into view. She ushers me inside, then secures the door behind us.
It’s silent in here.
There are stacks of books on both sides, with a wide aisle straight down to an opening in the back with chairs and tables.
One of my foster families had books upon books, and the mom knew just how to stoke a sense of escapism through the stories. They were just a fleeting stop, but she had given me a book before I’d left. I read it a few times, then handed it off to Claire.
We walk down the aisle, and she drops her bag onto one of the tables.
“You’re new, right?” she asks. “There are whispers about you.”
I stick out my hand. “Margo Wolfe. Entirely undeserving of at least a quarter of the rumors.”
She grins and puts her hand in mine. “Riley Appleton. Friends call me Riley.”
“Nice to meet you, Riley.” I crack a smile in return.
“Aha! We’re friends already, I see. Come, come.”
She leads me farther into the library, leaving her bag behind. She waves at the librarian tucked away in her office. There are cushioned chairs in the back, and she throws herself down into one. I take another and curl my legs up under me.
“One of the rumors is that you caught Caleb Asher’s attention. Is that true?”
I frown. “How’d you hear about that?”
She taps her temple. “I told you. Whispers.”
Great.
Her eyes are a startling shade of pale green. She leans forward and balances her forearms on her knees. I get the impression that she’s waiting for the story.
“I knew half of the kids here. I went to school with them until I was ten.” I pull out half my sandwich. “Ian Fletcher seems particularly angry about my return.”
She snorts. “Yeah, he’s a bag of dicks on a good day.”
That’s a small comfort.
“What about you?”
“Me?” She presses her hand to her chest.
“You’re intriguing, too. A bagged lunch—an apparent no-no—and a key to the library? I don’t remember you from when we were kids.”
She stifles a smile. “You wouldn’t. I transferred in when my family moved to Rose Hill a few years ago, but I’m a junior this year.”
Ah. I drag my finger along the hem of my skirt. “So you’re familiar with everyone. Can you explain Caleb? We used to be friends, but now…” I shrug.
Riley sighs and digs into her lunch. “He’s the captain of the hockey team. Everyone wants him—the girls around here would cough up a lung to get a chance to talk to him. You might remember his dad had his own company?”
“Yeah.” I never knew the specifics. At ten years old, I didn’t really care. I was more concerned about my dolls than grown-up business.
“The company grew super-fast, and his dad sold the managing percent probably around the time that you were here. The family still gets royalties from the company because of that deal. Which means they’re extra rich. Caleb can do anything, and the school would bend over backward to kiss his ass. Actually, they’d kiss his ass and then name a building after him.” She makes a face.
“Fun.”
“He and his friends are untouchable. Royalty,” she continues. “His closest friends are Liam, Theo, and Eli. That’s who he was with when I intercepted you, by the way. Everyone falls at their feet, even the teachers. They will do anything to protect their power—although I like to call it their reign of terror.”
“Who are they terrorizing?”
“Me,” she half laughs. “Only Eli, though. The rest tend to leave me alone. The hockey boys of Emery-Rose Elite have a dark side.”
I grunt. “And now Caleb has his eye on me.”
Riley considers that, while I contemplate her. Is there a reason beside the obvious for helping me? Could she really be that nice? At this point, she hasn’t shown a hint of using me for information, or for a leg up in the social standing by finding something embarrassing about me. Or personal.
The urges to either pull my cards tight to my chest and freeze her out or immediately make her my best friend war inside me.
“Tell me about you,” I say instead. “Siblings? Best friends? Favorite class?”
Between bites, she fills me in. She has an older brother but no best friends. She hasn’t found a home with a clique at ERE, but besides being bullied by Eli Black has managed just fine. Favorite class? Math.
I groan at that.
“Show me your schedule,” she says, putting her things back in the bag. “I’ll get you to class so you aren’t late. The bell is going to ring in a few minutes, and it’s kind of like a stampede when they open the doors.”
“Thanks.”
We go out into the hallway. There are a lot more people here. I crane back to check that Riley’s still with me and smack into a hard, muscled back. I stumble away, an apology on my lips.
Caleb Asher turns around. My damn heart kicks into gear. I know he doesn’t like me based on this morning’s treatment, but I don’t think my body got the memo.
His eyes go to Riley, who appears beside me. Back to me. “Run along, Appleton.”
She gulps, then visibly straightens and pushes her shoulders back. “No. I need to show?—”
“I’d be happy to help our friend get to class.” He scowls at her. “Shoo.”
I sigh. “It’s okay, Riley. Thanks.”
It’s not her fault he’s proving to be an asshole.
As soon as she’s gone, he steps into my personal space and forces me away from his friends. My back touches the wall, and I find myself with nowhere to go.
Again.
“Wolfe.”
“Asher.”
“How’s class?” he asks.
Everyone is pretending I don’t exist or coughing mean names behind their fists—but I’d rather swallow my tongue than say that to him. Being a wallflower isn’t going to fly at this school, I don’t think. Not if the king of hockey is going to make a point of drawing attention to me.
Hockey. What a weird sport. I don’t remember him playing when we were kids, but I was so young… It’s violent, isn’t it? Maybe he grew into the violence, too.
“Classes are going great. It’s good to be home,” I lie.
“We missed you at lunch.”
I snort. “Yeah, okay.”
He puts his hand on the back of my neck, his fingers soft for a second before they dig into my skin. I glare at him, but he ignores it. He uses pressure to steer me down the hall, into the throng of students waiting to head for their classes.
It’s like everyone has congregated here, with the two sets of double doors closed and probably locked.
In the middle of everyone, he gives me a light shove.
Not expecting it, I lose my balance. My new shoes create an awful squeak on the tile, and momentum sends me to my knees.
Mortification rings through me, while the conversation around us stops.
Caleb leans down. For a sad, sorry second, I think he’s going to offer his hand and help me up.
Instead, his lips twist. Disgust coats his features. “This isn’t your school.”
I’m pretty sure he’s amplifying his words on purpose, because now everyone is turned in our direction. His friends join us, circling around. They’re sharks, every one of them.
But it’s Caleb I have to pay attention to, because he isn’t done. “Why don’t you go back to the trash family that raised you? Leave the rest of us alone. Oh, I forgot. Your mom’s probably high out of her mind in a gutter, and dear old Dad is getting ass-raped on the regular in prison.”
His words hit their intended target, and I am ill-prepared to hear them. Each one stabs into me. Coke-whore’s daughter. Dad in prison . The whispers around us pick up, and if anyone didn’t know who I was, or my past—they do now.
It’s so different from every other school I attended. Anonymous foster kid, while still bullied, is a hundred times better than this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask him. I’m still on my fucking knees, unable to move. My legs would’ve given out anyway.
He leans down, grabbing my arm and hauling me back up. “Why? You don’t really know anything, do you?” He sneers. “You’re not a wolf. You don’t pose any threat at all.”
Do not fucking cry.
“Run along now, little lamb.”
I bristle, but my eyes are burning. The flight instinct rears up, and as soon as he releases my arm, I bolt. My shoulder hits one of his friends, and it’s like slamming into a wall. It sends me off-kilter, stumbling away. I get my bearings and push through the crowd.
People are staring, whispering.
The one from class, Ian Fletcher, makes a sheep noise at me.
I move faster, and the farther away from Caleb I get, the easier it is to breathe.
I duck into the nearest bathroom, and tears break loose. I fumble my way into a stall and lock it, leaning on the side wall and burying my face in my hands.
I didn’t do anything to deserve this. Hell, all I’ve done today is walk into a firestorm—one that my departure seven years ago apparently created.
“Margo?”
I blow my nose in tissue and drop it in the toilet. “In here. Hang on.”
After a long moment, I straighten and unlock the door.
Riley stands in the middle of the bathroom, her back to the mirrors. Her expression is sympathetic. “Are you okay? That was…”
“A lot?”
“Well…” She sighs. “Maybe he just wanted to send a message. He could leave you alone after this.”
I wince. Somehow, I don’t think that’s possible.
“The golden boys of Emery-Rose are nothing but nasty to their enemies.” She leans against the wall. “Sorry to break it to you. I’ve been the target of Eli’s fury for years.”
“They can’t just get away with it.”
“They can and they will.” Riley makes a face. “Their families are the richest of the rich. My parents are well-off, and I’m…” She shakes her head. “I’m the lowlife around here.”
“You’re not.” I brush off invisible dust from my skirt. “I’ll take that honor, thank you very much.”
It gets a laugh from her. Enough that I’m able to mirror it with a small smile.
She hands me a wad of toilet paper, and I take a second to clean up my face. My eyes are bloodshot, eyelids a little puffy, but otherwise, I look normal.
I don’t feel normal, though.
The bell rings, echoing in the bathroom.
I meet her gaze in the mirror. “Maybe we should skip.”
“The rest of the day?” Riley glances around. “On your first day?—?”
Ugh.
“Okay, fine. Guess I’ll just take the detention for being late.”
We exit the bathroom, and she guides me toward my next class. I can’t get a grasp on the layout of the school, and after everything, it seems like that’s the least of my worries and also one of the biggest.
“If you want, we can meet tomorrow before school,” she offers. “Everyone hangs out in the side courtyard since they don’t let us in until the first bell.”
Gratitude that she didn’t cut and run floods through me. “Safety in numbers?”
“Something like that.” She double-checks my schedule, then points to one of the open doorways. “There’s your room.”
For a split second, I envy the way she can shake off everything. It sticks to my skin like glue: the negativity, Caleb’s fury. In the class, I hand the teacher my schedule. I don’t bother with an excuse about being late.
She clears her throat, motioning for me to take my seat without a word. I’m grateful that no one I know is in this class… until one of Caleb’s friends walks in.
The teacher doesn’t even stop talking or spare him a glance.
He stops right next to me, staring down, and says, “Nice show, little lamb.”
I keep my gaze on the desk and spend the lesson counting down time. I have four months until I turn eighteen, and eight to graduate.
If I can make it that long.