It's at the end of the hall in the girls’ dorm. I had to walk past all the other large and luxurious suites to get to it, so I know it must be a converted closet. Some of the other girls are lounging around the common areas and sniggering behind their hands as I walk past, like it's so funny I've got this room.
It's the first time in my life I've got a room to myself.
These spoiled brats have no clue what I've survived, and having a room that barely fits my bed in it is not hard. The bed is a double, which is another first, and there's a small closet that would still fit ten times the clothes I own. I can feel a silly smile tugging at my lips, and I fight the urge to squeal.
I have my own room at the best school in the country.
I am going to nail this year, and then every other year until I graduate. 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 paid industry is and whether I could work there for forty years without wanting to kill myself.
I unpack and stash my bags away. I get down on my hands and knees and tap away quietly until I find a suitable wooden board to pull up. It’s easy enough work with my knife, and once it’s out, I slide the tiny safe I’ve brought with me into the gap. I use some old shirts to stuff the space and hide the hollow crevice from others who would think to tap around, then I slide the wood back over it. What the safe holds is worth more than my life.
I've got a text waiting on my phone, and I don't have to look at it to see it's Matteo. He's the only person who has my number and, really, he's the last piece of my old life I have left. There's the same icy fingers of fear up my spine as I read his text.
This town doesn't feel the same without you. Come home soon.
I snort, but there isn't much I can say to him without some sort of consequences.
Matteo D’Ardo was another foster kid, and four years older than me. We had met at school, and he had taken me under his wing even before my mom died and I wound up in the system. He was dangerous. More dangerous than any of these rich kids could ever be. They play pretend in their safe little bubble, but Matteo was the Jackal. He owned more than my home city; he owned the entire state. In a lot of ways, he owned me too.
Keep me in the loop. I'll be back for the party and trials next summer.
When the scholarship offer had arrived at the care home I was living in, I had made the decision to put aside my life in Mounts Bay, California, and to take a chance on a better life. The public school I had left behind had a reputation for churning out drug dealers, gangsters, and single mothers. If I didn’t make it at Hannaford Prep, my options were limited. I didn’t want to follow Matteo. I didn’t want to settle for a desperate life.
I shove the phone into my back pocket and head down to the dining hall. The whispers follow me and it's creepy as fuck. It's pretty clear that not only am I not welcome but the other students actively resent me being here. I wonder what exactly the other Mounts Bay students have done to leave this kind of impression.
The dining hall is a long room that resembles a wide corridor. It’s in the center of the building, so there’s no windows and the room is lit only by massive chandeliers. There’s only room for a single, stretched wooden table that could easily seat two hundred people. 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's gaps everywhere. I only spare the logistics of mealtimes a moment's thought before I go to stand in line. I get to hear more of the crap that's being said about me. One girl even says I slept with Mr. Trevelen to get the scholarship, and I turn to give her a proper glare. 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 skinny 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, with 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 I’m stunned, and it takes me a second to realize it's the guy from the courthouse last month. He looks absolutely devastating in his uniform, and there are girls frothing left, right and center over both him and Ash. Avery is looking down her nose at them all. I notice again that the teachers all eye her like she's a ticking time bomb with their name on it.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. 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 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 smile, but I don't look to see which one said it. What kind of a school is this? I shake my head and try to focus on my dinner. I've never eaten such delicious food in my life, and I'm looking forward to the next four years 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. I can alsofeelAvery 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 boy by accident. I hold it for a second, and then glance away because I don't want to look like I'm scared of his attention, even though I'm beginning to sweat in his general proximity.Get ahold of yourself.
“Who's the new kid?”
“Lips.” Avery stretches my name out, and it sounds so juvenile coming from her. Both boys snigger, and I roll my eyes where they can't see. Ash sums up the opinion of me that the whole room has already come to.
