I shake my head at them in disbelief. Imagine the arrogance, to be able to affect another kid’s whole life just because they hurt your sister’s feelings. The things that had happened to me without any sort of justice were staggering. My mom’s neglect. Her death, beatings in foster care, seeing the Game as the only way out. I look over at the perfect princess Avery, and I’ve never hated the girl more.
“Don’t look at her like that unless you want to die, Lips!” Lauren whispers urgently. I school my features into something more placid, and we start taking notes from Ms. Umber again.
When the class finally wraps up and I’m packing up, I hear a gasp behind me right as another body slams into my own.
My bag spills out onto the floor. I glance behind me to see who the hell knocked me and find Harlow, the girl who stood up to Ash.
“Get out of the way, Mounty trash! Bottom-feeding scum like you should bow at the feet of the elite students who actually matter.”
It takes every ounce of willpower, but I don’t react to her at all. After a full minute of me just staring at her, like she’s the piece of shit she is, Harlow makes a noise low in her throat and flounces off. The room empties out while I pick up my books and move on to my next class.
Nothing seems amiss, right up until I get back to my room to change out for dinner.
My stomach hollows out when I see my keys sitting in the lock on my door. I know I didn’t leave them there. Someone has once again had access to my room.
It takes until the early hours of the morning before I’m confident nothing has been taken or left in my room.
I hate this fucking school.
Chapter 8
Picking an outfit for a party I don’t want to go to with rich kids I hate to be around is its own special form of torture. I’m not going to wear a dress on a cold night in the woods, though I’m sure I’ll be the only girl who doesn’t, and my selection of jeans is tiny. Finally I go with a dark, distressed denim, and I pair them with a lacy top, Doc Martens, and I throw my hair into a high ponytail. I do a smoky eye and nude lip color because despite my Mounty status at the school, I can make myself look great if I need to. I give myself a once-over in my mirror and try not to let the dread creep in. Going to Joey’s party is a dangerous idea. I have no real friends, or even allies. I don’t have Matteo there to keep an eye on me, which is a first. I’ve never gone out drinking without him. He’d bought me my first-ever bottle of vodka when I’d moved into the group home, and then he’d held my hair while I’d puked my guts up for hours after finishing it. One thing was certain—I would not be getting drunk tonight. As a final precaution, I slip my Matriarch serrated knife into my pocket. It’s easily the most expensive thing I own, and it’s gotten me out of trouble more than once.
Joey arrives at my door a little after our 10 p.m. curfew, and he’s dressed in a crisp white shirt and pressed black slacks. I try not to flinch away from his eyes as he slowly inspects every inch of my body, like I belong to him.
“Wow. I thought after seeing your nudes I’d seen everything you had on offer, but you clean up good, Mounty.”
“Gee, thanks.” I make sure my tone is dry as fuck, and he laughs.
“Come on now, I didn’t mean anything by it! I’m just giving you a compliment, jeez. Let’s head down, the underclassmen should have it all set up by now.”
He holds out his arm, and I reluctantly slip my own into it. He smells like something expensive and sinful, but it does nothing for me. I can’t be in his presence without seeing him slapping that kid’s tray and covering him in scalding soup.
We walk out of the girls’ dorms and even though I know he practically owns the school, it still shocks me that the teachers we bump into just turn on their heels and walk away without a word. It should be an instant expulsion for him setting foot up here, but he’s untouchable.
There’s a crowd already forming, flowing down and out of the building, a mass exodus into the woodlands and toward the free booze. I’m sure I’m the only one who really cares about the free part. It’s colder than I thought it would be, and I curse myself for not throwing on a jacket. I don’t recognize any of the faces around me because there aren’t a whole lot of freshmen here. I do see quite a few of the junior boys that have approached me for sex, and my face sets like concrete into an icy look.
“Don’t worry about them, Mounty, let’s get you a drink to loosen you up a bit. You can’t dance if you’re that pissed off.” Joey’s tone is thick and smooth, and I’m sure it did wonders on that bitch Harlow. He tugs me over to the small clearing and begins to pour drinks from a loaded table. He does a pathetic job at it. Truly terrible. I could have wiped the floor with him at any bar in the state. I glance around and see a sound system pumping out shitty pop music that makes me grit my teeth, but there’s already drunk girls dancing in tiny skirts. I was right about the dress code. Joey hands me a cocktail that’s some godforsaken mashup of a daiquiri and a mojito, and I down the whole thing in two gulps.
“Atta’ girl! Another?”
“Fuck no. You may be rich, but you’re shit at this.” I push him out of the way as he roars with laughter. I swipe a bottle of tequila and drink it straight. I hear the tinkling of laughter that says Joey’s friends have arrived and they’re enjoying watching the poor girl drink. He steps away to greet them, and I feel the sinking sensation of unease pooling in my stomach, but I drown it with another swig straight from the bottle. I need to have enough of a buzz to survive this, but I’ll have to ride the line carefully. I can’t lose my head, or I might lose something else.
Joey walks back over to me and says, “Dance with me.” It’s not a request. He holds out his hand expectantly.
I’d rather choke, but I take it anyway and let him lead me to where the other students are grinding on each other in time with the beat. I take the tequila with me, and Joey grabs the bottle to have a swig of his own. I don’t want to drink from the same bottle as him, but when he lifts the rim to my lips, I have no choice but to take it. His arms drop to my waist and he pulls me in tight against him. I hate every single thing about this, but I go along with it.
I can feel the haze of alcohol start to dig in and my limbs grow warm and loose. Joey twirls me in his arms, and as I turn, I see the girls around us staring, glaring at me. They all want to be where I am. They all want Joseph Beaumont.
* * *
Rich kids have nothing on the parties at Mounts Bay.
There’s music and dancing, I’ve seen two blowjobs and one girl bent over a fallen tree with a guy pumping away behind her, but overall it’s pretty tame. I’m enjoying my buzz, and I’m surprised to find I’m enjoying the eyes that follow me around the party. Being here with Joey means no other guys approach me, but that doesn’t mean they don’t watch me dance. I’ve always loved jumping around and swaying and gyrating to music, and it’s even better with tequila coursing through my veins.
When the bottle has been passed between us and is finally empty, Joey pulls away and whispers in my ear, “I need something a bit stronger.”
I hate the feeling of his breath on my neck, but I smile and nod like a good guest. He leaves, bumping shoulders with his friends, and they take off into the denser section of the woods. I twirl and spin until the song finishes, and then I stumble over to a lawn chair set up near the drinks table.
