That day in the library I was too self-absorbed to really notice. And his voice over the microphone was so distant and impersonal, it hadn’t hit me until just then.
He had this deep baritone, and a bit of a bite in his words. Almost like he thought he was better than everyone else. As the reigning student body president, I was sure he did. Then there was his meek and nonthreatening appearance. Up close, I could see how attractive he really was, but for some reason it almost seemed like he wanted to tone it down.
Mr. Music sighed and pushed away from the desk. “All right. Class, Mr. Perez is the man in charge while I’m called to the principal’s office. Don’t get any funny ideas.” He wagged his finger at everyone before bustling out of the classroom.
Jonah stepped in and shoved his glasses further up his nose as the door slammed shut. A hush fell over the usually chatty class.
I mean, this crowd wasn’t rowdy per se, but Mr. Music was cool and didn’t care if people talked while working on their drawing.
A few lone claps echoed through the room, as a guy in the back corner stood up. I twisted in my seat to get a look at what he was doing but Ryan put a hand to my arm and shook his head.
Ignoring him, I rotated until I had a good view of the guy. This was the one class where I paid more attention to the assignments than the students, so I really only knew the people at the table closest to us. His name escaped me but he was definitely in the rough crowd. Black rimmed eyes and spiked hair seemed to suck in the light as he glowered. Then there was Jonah, standing inside the door but not attempting to make conversation with anyone. He must take orders seriously to stay here while that kid looked at him as if he used the last of his eyeliner and pissed on his hair gel.
“You should leave. You don’t want a repeat of what happened last time you were left alone with me.” Goth guy pushed himself to a standing position, bracing on his fists that were firmly planted on the table.
Jonah shoved his hands in his khaki pants and rocked back on his feet.
“I don’t believe we’re alone.” He made an exaggerated point of surveying the room. His eyes briefly caught on mine before he looked back to the guy.
“You think you’re so smart. Is that it? You think you’re better than me?”
Wow. This guy was really getting worked up and Jonah hadn’t even done anything, other than remain cool under fire.
“Mike, I don’t need to think I’m smarter than you. I know it.”
My mouth popped open as Mike’s face turned the same color as my mother’s violet pansies. That was a slam if I ever heard one. And Jonah had delivered it as if he stated a silly fact like the mountains were closer to the sun.
Mike dodged the edge of the table as he stomped toward Jonah.
There was a lot of anger on Mike’s end. Too much for him to be upset over something trivial or superficial. These guys had some kind of history. They were probably childhood best friends or something, but whatever was in the past, Mike had a bully boner for Jonah.
A tick in Jonah’s jaw was the only outward sign Mike’s temper affected him.
As someone who hated being the center of attention, I hadn’t wanted to play into this scene that Jonah would remember for days to come. Everyone staring, whispering and laughing behind his back. I wouldn’t wish that horrendous torture on my worst enemy. But I couldn’t pull my gaze away even if my mother was beating me over the head with her beloved crystal bowl.
Mike closed the distance. Five feet, two, and then toe to toe with Jonah. His hands connected with his chest and I swore the room vibrated with the force of his crash into the wall.
Jonah winced but didn’t make any attempts to defend himself. He merely held his hands up in surrender and dipped his head in submission. It hurt to see him so bowed over when he obviously wasn’t even trying to protect himself.
“Mike, there’s no need for this. I didn’t mean it.”
This was wrong. Something was off with this situation, but I couldn’t quite figure out exactly how it rang false.
Scooping up my phone, I discreetly angled the camera so I caught Jonah’s expression over the bunching of Mike’s shoulders.
I slid the phone in my back pocket so no one would suspect I had just created evidence of the attack. It shouldn’t have bothered me anyway because half the people in the class were recording. Before the end of the period it would be trending on all social media platforms and circling in private group chats. Jonah was an ass, but now I didn’t see him in such a black and white light.
Mike fisted his hands in Jonah’s shirt and slammed him against the wall. “When are you gonna give it up?”
This had gone too far. Normally I was the last person to wade into a confrontation, especially with hotheaded, hormone ridden guys, but guilt tugged at the edges of my conscience.
I was the reason that Jonah bumbled his way through his speech at the pep rally. I’d bet my phone that the papers that flew all over the place were his notes.
Regret didn’t sit well with me and if I could rectify it, even in a small way, I would. Ryan tried to stop me, but I was small and fast. No way he could have actually detained me without making a scene of our own.
I snuck up on Mike like a panty thief in a sorority house, and ducked under his arm.
This guy really rubbed me the wrong way so I leaned as far away from him as I could while I shoved him away from Jonah.
What I hadn’t expected was the hard body of Jonah behind me. Was he some kind of geeky superman? Undercover as the chess geek?
I wasn’t distracted for long, because as soon as Mike regained his balance he lunged for me.
Oh fuck.
I hadn’t thought this far into it. My pitifully sheltered life flashed before my eyes as the tattooed fist sped toward me.
Ryan barged between us at the last second and ushered him away.
“You need to calm down, man. I know you weren’t about to hit my girl. Go sit down.”
The sound of Ryan’s voice seemed to shake Mike out of his little episode. He cast one lingering look over Jonah that was full of the purest hatred I had ever witnessed before he readjusted his shirt and headed back to his chair.
“Yeah, whatever. You need to teach your girl that getting between two dudes is fucking dumb.” He grumbled the whole way.
Fingers lightly gripped my hips as I was pried away from Jonah. I was still pressed against him, smooshing him between me and the wall. And everyone was staring at us. Me.
Great. Fucking great.
Ryan took my shaking hand and led me to the table. I glanced at Jonah over my shoulder to see if he was all right, but he was already gone.
“Where’d Jonah go?” Mr. Music slipped into the classroom, heading straight for his desk.
“He, uh, left right before you got here.” A timid girl by the door spoke up.
The lingering tension clouding the room must have been all in my head, because the teacher didn’t blink an eye. He busied himself as low whispers crept back to normal levels.
Someone was sharpening a pencil at the old metal sharpener bolted to the wall. The sound momentarily blocking out the rest of the students.
“Astrid. What the hell was that?” Ryan bent close, and I could almost see steam rolling out of his nostrils.
If I had a red cape, he’d probably charge.
“Damn right, what the hell was that!” I whispered. “That poor guy didn’t do anything. Why did he get attacked like that?”
Some of the fight leaked out of Ryan as he sat back and scrubbed his hand over his face. His lips twisted in a grimace before scooting forward again.
It was almost like he debated on what to tell me. Which meant there was something to tell. And according to the budding friendship I was building with Ryan, he would tell me. If not right now, then by the end of the day.
It became very obvious early on, that Ryan physically couldn’t hold his tongue where gossip was concerned. At least not with those he considered a friend.
> “You aren’t going to believe me, but I have no idea.”
Yeah, right. Ryan had a direct line in to every click. It would be an empty night at a Panic concert before Ryan didn’t know the dirt. I had no idea why he hung out with me so much.
“Put your eyebrows away. They’re distracting me.” He covered my eyes with his hand.
Okay. Whatever that meant.
“Seriously. Even if you don’t know everything, what do you know?”
My vision brightened when his hand lifted from my eyes.
“I’m telling you, it’s paltry crumbs compared to what I normally have. So Mike and Jonah only started going to school here in ninth grade when the district lines were rearranged—”
“What does that mean?” I flicked my gaze over the closest table to make sure no one was paying attention.
They weren’t, thankfully. But everyone was working on their project and if we didn’t at least pretend to be doing the same then Mr. Music might not be as inclined to help me.
Flipping open to the last page in my sketchbook, I nodded at Ryan to do the same as I arranged my pencils before starting on the drawing.
A small lag in conversation wedged between us as Ryan followed my lead. Then he cleared his throat and focused on his paper as he kept talking.
“I keep forgetting you came from an even smaller town than Silver Ranch. It’s just that we aren’t that small because of the city close by. Anyway, the suburbs grow when the city grows. And Denver’s been growing for a long time. A few years ago they rearranged the lines so more kids went here and another school was built in Crystal Springs to capture the overflow of students.”
Ryan’s voice took on a lulling quality as he explained the ins and outs of how they decided who went where. But bottom line, more students came here when the economy started booming.
“Back to Jonah and Mike,” I muttered.
“Fine. You’re like my little sister after a glitter bomb. You don’t give up.” He tapped his pencil on the paper and looked up at me.
He paused for dramatic effect and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning closer. If he didn’t spit it out soon I’d give him his very own septum piercing.
“They started here at the beginning of freshman year and there’s always been this sort of bad blood between them. No one that came with them talks about it, but they must have been best friends or something at their old school.”
He stopped speaking and started legit drawing on his still life. That speck of information was useless. It didn’t give me any insight into Jonah or help me understand why I wanted to stand up for him.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. This wasn’t the time to analyze myself, not when there was a chance I could submit a portfolio for the scholarship. That was more important.
“Now, tell me why you felt the need to channel your inner cat woman.”
He said that as if it was unheard of for people to stand up against bullies here. The elite of the school definitely ran in cliques and treated the other students as less than, and there was definitely more powerful cliques than others. But I was sure there were decent people here willing to stand up for others. Right?
“Remember the day of the pep rally?”
“Of course. That was the same day I first talked to you, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Well, I ran into Jonah in the library and I’m pretty sure I made him drop all of his notes. I mean, he could have avoided me too, but I still feel bad. Ya know?”
Ryan’s face screwed up in disbelief. “You’re telling me, that you had an accidental—I’m assuming this was accidental—run in with Jonah. And now you’re all gung-ho for saving him from someone he clearly has history with?”
The way he said that made me sound like I had a savior complex. Which I didn’t, at all. In fact, I’d surprised myself by stepping between them, breaking one of my cardinal rules. I didn’t ever put myself in a position where people noticed me. On purpose anyway.
I tipped my head back. “It was a spur of the moment decision. I won’t suffer from the same sickness twice.”
“Good. Because we have some real assholes at this school. Like Trey. Who you should totally take blackmail pictures of.”
And just like that we came full circle. Ryan distracted himself with thoughts of one-sided revenge and I let the other conversation drop. The rest of the class was uneventful as we actually worked on our assignment.
I put a little extra work into mine just in case I had a hidden talent that was waiting for the right moment to spring free. Sadly, this wasn’t the moment and my flower arrangement resembled a vase of tiny baby fists more than a graceful bundle of fake lilies.
Disgusted with myself, I flung my pencil across the table. It rolled over the side and bounced on the floor, stopping under one of Mr. Music’s grungy old man loafers.
“Astrid, if you’re giving up this quick, are you sure you want to try for the scholarship?” A smile teased the corners of his mouth, but doubt slithered around my body.
I wanted to do this. But what happened if I wasn’t strong enough to hack it? Nope, stop that self-doubt in its tracks. That was what my mother wanted me to think, but I was not who she was molding me to be.
If it wasn’t for the Sunday school teacher at my old church, I would without a doubt be reviewing potential bachelors to target in college Bible study. Ms. Cantrell never came out and said my parents were bad in so many words. But what she did say encouraged me to want more for myself than my parents led me to believe I was worthy of.
“Astrid, your life is yours and yours alone. It’s okay to live it for yourself. Everyone has a passion, and you just have to find yours, doll. Try lots of things until you find it, but when you do, don’t let anyone stop you from pursuing your own path.”
Such simple words. Funny how common, everyday words had the power to change your outlook on life and yourself.
“Of course, I want to go for it.”
He grinned and pulled up a spare chair. “Perfect! All right. So question. Do you have a camera?”
“No,” I drew out the vowel because I could see where this was going and it wasn’t going the direction I wanted it to. I didn’t have a job so I couldn’t afford a camera.
“Okay, not a big deal. I actually have a contact at the DU that’d be willing to help out. He was my roommate when we were in college, so he owes me a few favors.”
Mr. Music laughed like we were all in on this secret joke, but I had no idea what the joke was.
I also didn’t know what to say. So I stared at him.
“Next question, do you have a car?”
This one I could answer.
“Yes.” See, that was easy.
“Cool, cool. What I want you to do, is go over to the university tomorrow between the hours of five and seven. Those are his office hours. We don’t have a photography class here and he can get you suited up with everything you need to know. I did some quick checking and I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t enter with a photography portfolio.” He slid a sheet of paper over with a name and address written in large block letters.
Dan Brown
1001 Smith Hall, Room 201
Denver, CO
The paper blurred as my freaking tear ducts stopped working. Fuck these teenage hormones! I didn’t even know why this affected me so strongly. He didn’t promise me the scholarship—not that he could—and he didn’t even say I’d have a good shot.
Mr. Music was literally only giving me the means to take the opportunity in my own hands. And that… that meant a lot to me.
“I’ll go as soon as school’s over.” My voice wavered over the last few words and Ryan awkwardly patted me on the back.
“If you take his advice to heart and work hard, you might just be able to make it as one of the two finalists of SRHS. That’s the best I can do for you at this point. But I’m willing to help you as much as I can along the way.”
I glanced up and Mr. Music’s kind eyes. They reminded me s
o much of Ms. Cantrell. The bell rang and with purposely measured movements, I gathered my things and left the classroom with Ryan. He didn’t say anything about the interaction with the teacher, so I didn’t either. Sometimes the best friends understood when you didn’t need to talk about it.
The next twenty-four hours were the slowest of my life. I managed to avoid the parentals for the most part. It was Wednesday night, so my dad was at a Bible study for the elders and my mother was with the women’s committee, planning the next fellowship dinner.
For the first time in my life, the youth program didn’t have a Wednesday study group. Hallelujah! Dad always made me go and give lessons, like I was going to follow in his footsteps someday. I wasn’t.
I kept waiting for my dad to announce we were starting one and I was the trailblazer to get other kids to join. If luck was in my favor, he wouldn’t have this bright idea until after I graduated.
Eight months. A little over eight months and I would be legally free to leave this house behind.
Exhilaration and worry waged war in my thoughts. I couldn’t decide if I was more excited the end was near, or afraid I wouldn’t have a plan, and I’d have to stay here anyway.
That would be the worst, to stay here knowing if I’d done something differently, then I could have left on my own.
At school, concentration was fleeting, and I was a poor conversation partner for Ryan. He understood, though. He babbled on about his newest secret crush to fill the silence.
We sat under one of the only trees that actually resembled a tree at lunch. Ninety percent of trees here were evergreens and didn’t provide a whole lot of shade from the burning sun.
“Did you hear what I just said?” Ryan nudged my foot with his.
“Yes. Pat gave you googly eyes and now he’s in love with you forever. What kind of name is Pat? The only other one I know is an elder at church, and he resembles flubber more than a sexy beast of a teenager.” I ribbed him for his choice of crush. I really didn’t care, but it was fun to rile him.
He scowled. “Like he chose his name. He’s Irish and it’s short for Patrick. Attraction isn’t in the name, but the personality.”
Pretty Lies: A contemporary YA Romance (Astrid Scott Series Book 1) Page 5