I spotted Caleb a few feet to my left. I reached out with my bright pink hand and grabbed his wrist. He smirked at me, whispering, “What are you up to, Ridgewood.”
With that, I leaped toward him and his smile faltered as I tugged open his shirt, then smeared my hands down the perfect curve of his chest toward the flat abs below. A few hairs cut out from beneath the boxers that sat low on his hips. I gazed at them hungrily. I no longer had any control over my thoughts.
The rest of the class screeched, opening more vats of paint. As Caleb tugged me toward his DJ table, I caught sight of Hailey, lurking on the edge of the crowd. She was pissed off. I wanted to take a picture of her face, sallow, dark and shadowed. She looked maybe twenty years older than her vibrant seventeen years. I had completely destroyed her plan.
Once at the DJ table, Caleb flipped the beats back on. I felt the music pulsating through me, becoming almost invincible with its power. He brought his hands beneath my ass, lifting me onto the table to the left of the spinning records. His bare hands on my bare ass felt electric. As he moved me up, I smeared more paint onto his neck, his ears and cheeks.
“You look like a Pollock painting,” I said, tilting my head to the side.
“Who the fuck is that?” he asked, confusion marred his gorgeous features.
I shrugged. “I thought you Crestwood people were supposed to be all worldly and shit.”
“You’re so fucking weird, Ridgewood.”
He dropped his hands behind my back and tugged me into him so that my paint-smeared tits pressed hard against his chest. His lips were hungry and thick, sucking at my bottom lip with an intensity I felt all the way in my gut. A small moan escaped my mouth. He cut back, giving me a wicked smile and whispering, “You want this, Ridgewood?”
I felt the want like a storm. My head pounded with it and all I could smell was his musk and sweat as the alcohol and the paint hardened against us, latching us together as we kissed again. He grunted, grinding the rock-hard bulge in his pants against my slender thigh.
“You think I haven’t noticed you?” he groaned, between kisses and gasps. “You think you can just wander around here insulting everyone—and not be punished?”
I dropped my head back, feeling my paint-tinged hair toss against the very base of my back. Above us, the moon seemed to hang lower as though it wanted to peer in on the action.
Was this what it was like to rule the world? Was this what it felt like to be a Crestwood blue blood—to have everyone bow down to whatever weird fucking game you decided on at the moment?
I was suddenly high from the power.
Caleb’s eyes were trained on something behind my back. I spun round to see that the paint party had continued—all the students of Crestwood Academy were half-naked or completely naked, painting one another with tender, sensual fingers. I shivered, with Caleb’s hands still at the base of my back, flirting with the crest of my ass. As I scanned the group, my eyes tore into Dante, lurking on the other side of the fire. He stared at us with a strange severity, as though he either wanted to come over and murder us—or join in.
“What is Dante looking at?” I murmured.
“Shhh.” Caleb drew his lips across my mouth, his tongue flicking out to taste me. “Just let him watch.”
THE PARTY SURGED ON till near-dawn. Champagne was poured almost endlessly, making me dizzy. We were all painted, wild and free running into the crashing Pacific waters to wash out whatever paint we had left on us. After Caleb left to find Kieran and Dante, I joined Teony floating on our backs in the deep blue ocean. After a while, we started back to the beach and she gripped my hand and moaned, “God, I’m so wasted, Kennedy. I’m so fucked up.”
“Don’t drown,” I said, squeezing her hand playfully. “I don’t know what I’d do without you at Crestwood.”
Teony coughed with laughter. “Yeah, right. Did you see how you just made a mockery of Hailey? I think you can take care of yourself.”
Chapter Twelve
Sometime after nine in the morning, I took the bus back to Ridgewood, wearing my Crestwood uniform and my hair still lined with paint. Mom’s car was in the driveway, but when I entered, I found the place ghostly quiet. Clearly, she had gone to bed for the day. Working twelve-hour night shifts was so hard on her.
I slipped into bed, my thoughts racing with images of the night; Kieran grinding against me, his hands cupping my ass and Caleb kissing me recklessly as he lifted me onto the DJ table. Then there was Dante, staring at me from across the fire like he owned me. His eyes had held mine in a trance. Teony’s words—that I could take care of myself rang through my ears once more.
It was true. I could take care of myself and as I’d said from the beginning, I wasn’t going to let Crestwood beat me.
After a while had passed, I finally closed my eyes, nuzzling up beneath the blankets of my cozy bed. My nightmare returned. I couldn’t escape it. The screeching tires; the scream, rolling out between my own lips; the truck, smashing head-first into the enormous tree.
The blood. The adrenaline and knowing that I had completely altered my life forever. I couldn’t escape it.
That evening, I woke up to find myself drenched in sweat. I stripped out of my Academy uniform and tossed it in the washer. Wearing just a crop-top and a pair of shorts, I padded downstairs to find Mom at the breakfast table, her feet up on the chair opposite to her. Her head burrowed in a book. When I entered, her eyes flashed up and caught mine.
“There she is—my sleeping beauty.”
I grinned and tossed myself into the only other rickety chair we had. My stomach grumbled.
“How was the sleepover?” Mom asked.
“It was good,” I said, hating the weight of my lie. Of course, I lied to Mom before—I had partied in Ridgewood the past few years without her knowing. Now, of course, it felt different and dirty since I was hooking up with Crestwood elites, which were the bane of our existence.
It felt like this was a kind of a brick wall between Mom and me.
I reached toward the bag of chips Mom had laid out and crunched on one. The heaviness of the dream still lingered in my thoughts. I tried to push through it but found myself asking unfortunate questions—maybe drudging up things I shouldn’t have.
“Mom...”
“Hmm?” Mom grabbed a chip and held it in mid-air as she looked at me with curious eyes.
“I was wondering if Grandma ever told you what happened with everything. Like, why she was kicked out of Crestwood.” Since I started Crestwood, I couldn’t stop thinking about that. I felt like a traitor, heading into the place that had kicked my Grandma Kelly to the curb.
“It had to have happened before you were born, right?” I asked then, trying to figure out the timeline in my mind. “Like, she even could have been pregnant with you when—”
“Honey, Grandma, didn’t like to talk about Crestwood,” Mom explained, her face growing shadowed. “I had to respect that and that is exactly what I did.”
“But aren’t you curious at all?” I asked as I chewed on my bottom lip.
Mom smashed her hand across the top of the chip bag, crunching a few of them down. The move was so volatile, almost violent and I stuffed myself toward the back of my chair and just blinked at her. I was beginning to wonder if I wasn’t the only one with secrets between us.
Silly me for thinking that despite everything that had happened last year, me and Mom would remain close forever.
“I’m sorry,” Mom said, her voice suddenly soft. She pressed her lips together, her cheeks flushed. “You know how I get when we talk about her. I just—” And here, she turned her head toward the portrait of Grandma on the wall. It had been painted years ago when Grandma was maybe nineteen or twenty-years-old.
It was the first time I noticed how pristine the painting was, almost exactly like the paintings that hung in Headmaster Blair’s office.
“Mom... Did someone from Crestwood paint that?” I asked suddenly, pointing to her picture.
/> “What? Why would you ask something like that?” Mom demanded. After a long, staggering sigh, she forced her face to relax. “I’m sorry, baby. Let’s just. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay.” I paused for a moment, pressing my lips together. “What do you want to talk about?”
Mom cast her shoulder toward her ear. “Maybe like the fact that I have a date tonight?”
This was a complicated thing for me to hear, but I was still happy for her. Mom hadn’t been out since Dad died and hadn’t even expressed interest in anyone. Secretly, I had thought all along that maybe she could never feel anything for anyone again. Not the same way she felt for Dad. They were complete soulmates. Those years that they had almost divorced had been nothing but heartache for both of them, which had led to them actually renewing their vows. “In sickness and in health. Till death do us part,” they had recited, with me standing beside them in some sparkly gown, all-out weeping.
“Who is he?” I asked and then raked my hand through my hair.
“You look a bit upset,” Mom said, tilting her head and I could hear a hint of worry in her voice.
“I’m not. I promise. I just... Who’s the guy?”
Mom clasped her hands together. “You don’t know him.”
“Come on,” I coaxed, trying to get her to spill the details or anything for that matter. “Tell me your dirty little secrets, young woman.”
Mom laughed at me and then rolled her eyes. “To be honest, I’m super nervous. It’s this man I used to know back from high school. Now, he lives between here and Crestwood, on this little farm. I met him at the hospital if you can believe it. He came in because he split his thumb open with a hammer.”
I winced. “That sounds so painful.”
Mom grinned and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “That’s kind of the least you see in the ER.” She popped up from her chair and planted a kiss on my forehead before bounding toward the living room. “Anyway, I’m off in about an hour. Help me figure out what to wear?”
I told her I would. I had to make sure I was still playing the part of her loving daughter, even if I currently felt like an alien. I watched as she slipped her youthful legs into one miniskirt after another, sitting in the same space where dad had once slept. She tossed her hair to the side and winced at her reflection in the mirror, saying, “I really don’t know what I’m doing anymore, do I?”
“You’re a natural,” I told her.
THAT NIGHT I SLEPT so hard and sound, but then I woke up sometime after two in the morning to Mom and whoever the hell this stranger was. They were drunk and laughing, throwing jokes at one another like it was comedy hour. My demeanor became shadowed and I clenched my fists, wishing somehow, I could turn back the clock.
The next morning I sauntered through the sun-drenched house, toward the little nook where Grandma Kelly and I had stored our favorite books. I figured that I would take the day to read and write, just like Grandma and I had done before she had died. I was still working my way through her wide selection of books, none of which I allowed Mom to get rid of. Mom wasn’t as much of a reader—not like Grandma and me.
When I pushed the door of the nook open, I stumbled into someone. He grunted and then fell back, toppling against the far bookshelf. I blinked at him, still half asleep. He was a burly-looking farmer type, with a mustache and five o’clock shadow and thick shoulders. He stood there, shocked in just his boxer shorts—patterned with diamonds, his chest bare and thick with hair. His face was laced with panicked like he had been caught with his hands in the cookie jar.
Obviously, it was whoever Mom had brought home last night, but what the hell was he doing here in the reading nook?
“Umm, hello,” I said. Then I took two steps toward one of the bookshelves and picked up a book that had fallen on the floor.
The man scratched his chest. “Hey. Sorry, did I wake you up?”
“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest then and glared at him. “What are you doing in here?”
The man scratched the back of his head, this time. What was wrong with him? Did he have lice or something?
“I was just looking for something.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, my voice sarcastic. “What could you possibly be looking for?”
“I thought I left something in here,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, he tugged at the door, opening it wider and surged out into the hallway. Before I knew what had happened, he scampered down the hall and up the steps. I heard Mom’s light voice, greeting him as he trampled back into her bed—that is, the bed she had once shared with Dad.
What the fuck is going on? I thought.
I asked Mom about it later that afternoon, after she sent the guy home and reappeared in the kitchen, brushing her hair. Her skin glowed, almost like she was a commercial for sex in your thirties.
“Oh? Jeff was in the reading nook?” she asked. I watched as she probed her hand around the top of the cabinet, looking for snacks. “I don’t know why he would be in there. Maybe he got lost looking for the bathroom or something.”
“I don’t know how you could get lost in our house,” I told her, my nostrils flared. “I mean, maybe he was trying to steal something?”
Mom rolled her eyes, tugging a packet of fruit snacks from the cabinet. “Honey, I think Jeff knows that we don’t have anything worth stealing. That’s kind of our brand.”
She was right, but it still didn’t sit well with me. I grabbed my own pack of fruit snacks and returned to the reading nook, analyzing every single shelf for signs of his pestering. I couldn’t find any sign of it.
Maybe I was just overly paranoid due to not being used to having another man around. The therapist I had gone to before we couldn’t afford it anymore had said something about that—psychosis; that I might not be able to trust my thoughts forever, due to trauma. I shrugged and burrowed my head back in my book, willing those thoughts to leave and I let myself get wrapped up in my book.
As the afternoon turned into night and I got ready for bed, I couldn’t help but worry about Monday morning. I knew somehow, someway, Hailey was going to make me pay for what I had done at Bluff’s Edge. I had no idea how bad the consequence would be.
Chapter Thirteen
The air at Crestwood felt different on Monday morning. When I arrived at the bus stop, Kieran’s convertible was parked there waiting for me, the engine buzzing. I tilted my head with confusion and Caleb snapped the door open without a word. It was clear it was expected that I ride up to Crestwood with them.
And this time, when we reached the top, nobody handed me any of their trash.
Once we reached the parking spot, though, the boys bounded toward the door in their familiar pack, leaving me behind. I clutched the straps of my backpack, my eyes scanning for Hailey or one of her cronies. Students swirled in, some still with their hair streaked with paint. It had been super fucking difficult to get out, something I had committed all of Saturday night to, while Mom had been out on her weird date with Jeff.
At the Crestwood Chronicle that morning, Teony stood beside the chalkboard, her white chalk poised against the green background. Her voice was chipper and more professional than normal. “I need pitches for the next week’s paper.”
A kid named Tommy stabbed his hand through the air. “What about the ruckus that Kennedy Harper caused at Bluff’s Edge?” he shot out, beaming at me. “That’s story-worthy.”
Teony chuckled. “I don’t think the headmaster would be super pleased about a story like that.”
Tommy shrugged. “Maybe for the expose paper, then?”
Teony nodded contemplatively. She had mentioned this when we first met. That the Chronicle sometimes put out an expose-paper, one that told the real, gritty side of Crestwood. Tommy grinned at me while Teony made a separate area on the board, titling it, “Expose.”
“Sure, yeah. But we need some real, hard-hitting stuff,” Teony began. “Kennedy. You’re the creative one. What do you got
?”
I bit my tongue a bit too hard, drawing blood. Last week, Teony had told me I could take a bit of time before even writing my own story, and now she wanted me to bleed myself dry for a world I didn’t really understand yet. Whatever, I loved the thrill of it.
“Dante mentioned this morning that his parents have let him intern with their recent lawsuit case,” I heard myself say, remembering the conversation between the boys in the car. “Something about a movie director who was caught cheating on his wife when he did some wild drugs while in South America. He didn’t bother with a prenup, but he does want to keep everything.”
Teony arched her brow. “Which movie director? They’re always cheating, aren’t they?”
I wracked my brain, trying to drum up the name of the guy. “I think it was... Martin Penwood.”
There was a hush in the room. Teony and Tommy made intense eye contact before she spun around to curve some words in perfect penmanship over the chalkboard. “Jesus. Why didn’t you say so before?”
“Wait. Should I know—?”
“He’s a Crestwood alum,” Tommy offered. “It’s probably why he went to the Franklins for representation.”
“And you’re saying that Dante’s worked with him?” Teony asked. “He’s got an inside scoop on Martin Penwood’s life?”
I chewed on the end of my pen, trying to remember exactly what had said. “He mentioned that he’s been spending some time at his house. His mom is getting him to take notes while they have conversations with Penwood. Dante said he has a huge collection of like, snakes from South America. I guess the whole South American thing really stuck to him.”
Teony snapped her fingers. “You should interview Dante about how it feels to work on such a high-caliber case. I mean, it’s pretty obvious that Dante is going to follow in his parents’ footsteps, right?”
I had no fucking clue, but I nodded, wanting to play along. “Sure. I can interview him. I mean, I can ask.”
Wicked Blue Bloods: A Highschool Bully Romance - Crestwood Academy Book 1 Page 9