“Who gives a fuck, she's Mounty trash.”
If only that were true.
Chapter 2
If you’re in the top classes at Hannaford, they start at 7 a.m., which seems to be cruel and unusual torture to me. Why punish the high achievers?
I sleep like the dead, and still I want to pitch my alarm at the wall.
I manage to get up and look human in my crisp uniform. I even squeeze in the time to put on a little makeup to try and hide the dark marks under my eyes. I don't need to give the other kids any more ammo.
My scholarship pays for exactly three daily uniforms, two sets of sporting tracksuits, and a formal uniform for representing the school at social functions. This means I have to be very mindful of what happens to these clothes, because the school skirt alone cost more than a month’s worth of groceries.
The dining hall is basically empty, so I get to sit close to the door and stuff my breakfast into my mouth. I wish I had the time to savor the fluffy scrambled eggs and crispy bacon, but I'm on a serious time crunch. I hoover it down, and then grab an apple on the way out.
My first class is history, and I'm relieved to see a seating plan posted on the door. I'm at the back and sharing with a male student, Harley Arbour. Avery is at the desk in front of us, and Ash isn't in the class, which is great because I don't want to be called trash this early in the morning. It’s harder to rein my temper in.
It's like a gut punch when I realize the super hot guy’s name is Harley, and I now have to share a desk with him three times a week. He smells incredible, like bergamot and cloves, and I find myself angry at him for it. I have never really taken much notice of guys. I’m not interested in being knocked up and abandoned like my mom was. It was easy enough in Mounts Bay. All the guys in my grade had that air of desperation that comes with teenage hormones and poverty. Everyone at that school was living below the poverty line, and everyone was going hungry. I couldn’t look at any guy without getting the distinct feeling they just wanted an escape from the bleak hole that was their life. Plus, they all knew I was associated with Matteo. They all steered clear of me.
None of the boys at Hannaford are desperate. They all have the means to be here, they’ve never struggled for anything, and I quickly learned that with money comes looks. I’m not saying that only rich people are attractive, I know that’s not the case, but they can all afford to take care of themselves and show their best side every day. There isn’t a single girl I’ve seen yet that doesn’t look plucked, primped, and plumped to within an inch of their life, and all the guys are sporting Rolexes, coiffed hair, and expensive cologne.
Harley winces when he sees me at the desk, but he sits and methodically empties his bag. His handwriting is much neater than mine, and he already has notes from the textbook we were assigned. All of this conflicts with the gangster image I had in my head, and my eyebrows are raised as I take it all in. He might just be the person to beat in the class.
“Your name is Eclipse?” His voice drips with venom. Fucking rich boys.
“What can I say, my parents were hippies.” That's not even close to true, but it's an easy lie I've told a hundred times. It's much easier than saying my mom had a conversation with the moon one night and decided to dedicate her unborn child's name to it. That kind of story comes with blank stares, or worse, they figure out she must have been high. I wonder how many kids can say they spent the first three weeks of their lives detoxing from heroin in a NICU? Lucky me.
“Whatever, Mounty. Don't cheat off my notes. I can see you eyeing them. I don't share, I don't want to work as a team, I'm not fucking helping you.”
A laugh rips out of my chest in shock. He doesn’t look at me; his eyes stay glued to the front of the classroom.
“I don't need your help. Why would I need help from some gangster kid? Steal any cars recently? What the hell are you doing at this school?” I say, and the words come out harsher than I intended.
Shock flits across his face, but it's gone as quickly as it was there. He turns and looks at me with such intense loathing, I swallow. My survival instincts have clearly been misplaced since I arrived here. Who would have thought a school full of rich assholes could be just as volatile as Mounts Bay High? I have to remember I’m not the Wolf here. I’m at the bottom of the ladder with no friends, no allies, no hope.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Of course he didn't recognize me, why would he remember seeing me there? I only remember him because he's, well, utterly drool-worthy.
“I was at the courthouse getting my emancipation last month. I had to sit and hear all about your summer activities.”
He shoves away from the desk roughly and turns on me. I notice immediately that he's much bigger than me. His shoulders are wide and filled out, like he knows his way around a gym. The words tattooed under his jaw flick as his muscles clench tightly in rage.
“Listen here, you little bitch—”
“Harley. I will deal with it. Focus on your schoolwork.” My head snaps around at Avery’s voice, but she hasn't even bothered to look at us. What the hell? Deal withit, like I'm not even a person?
Harley hesitates, like he'd rather rip my head off himself, but then the teacher is stepping into the room and he gets situated back at the desk. I glance around to see wide eyes in every direction.
Great.
I'd just pissed off one of the alpha males at the school.
Ms. Aurelia introduces herself, and then hands out a pop quiz to each student.
“I like to start out the year knowing what my students already know, so we don't accidentally cover old subjects. Anyone who does not get 80 percent or higher will be moved into the lower classes, as we won’t have the time to cover older subjects.”
At least a half-dozen students groan. I glance through the pages and I’m relieved to find I know all the answers. My biggest concern with coming to Hannaford was that I'd be behind thanks to my public school education. I'd spent the entire summer break reading all of my textbooks.
I have all three pages filled out in under three minutes. Harley glares at me as I put down my pen, but he finishes up less than a minute later.
