Three Divisions: Crescentwood 1

by R. A. Smyth

  He looks like a total douche with half of his shirt buttons undone and his tie missing. He’s not bad looking, hell if he wasn’t sitting beside Preston and Barrett you would probably think he was hot. As it is, he just fades into the background.

  He is sucking some girl's neck while he openly grabs her boobs in front of the whole room. Seriously? Some girls have no self-respect. He catches me looking at him and licks his lips while sending me a saucy wink that just creeps me out.

  I quickly move on to take in the next person. The other side of the table consists of three girls that look like perfect little Barbie dolls, with their salon styled hair, perfect make-up, and manicured nails. I swear they all look like they even have the same shade of dyed blonde hair. They are all laughing away, flipping their hair and fixing their make-up while they pout for selfies on their iPhones. I don’t see any food on the table in front of them so I'm guessing they are on a healthy diet of air to maintain their skinny figures. I honestly don't know how they are resisting this food. My burger tastes incredible.

  "So, you're the new girl the one-percenters have taken an interest in,” says a voice from my left. I was so caught up in analysing Preston and his friends that I didn't even notice someone approaching my table.

  "Excuse me?”

  "Can't say I see what all the fuss is about. What do they want with someone like you?" He asks, quickly giving me a once over and dismissing me.

  He's quite average looking with his brown hair and eyes. He at least looks his age of seventeen instead of Preston and Barrett, who look like they belong in university or behind a desk in some corporate high-end job.

  "Who are the one-percenters?"

  He nods his head towards Preston and Barrett's table. “I don't get it, aren't you all one-percenters?”

  "Sure, but the kids at that table are the top one percent of the one-percenters, the richest of the rich. They are invincible. Besides, aren't you one of us too? You wouldn't be in this town, this school, if you weren't in the top percentile of the richest people in America."

  I wouldn't be? Just how rich is Robert?

  Tipping my head towards the one-percenters table, "You said they have taken an interest in me?"

  Laughing, "Oh, yeah, your presence has really riled them up. Mostly Preston and Barrett, but they rule over the rest of their little group, and subsequently the school. We have all been told not to talk to you, and to be prepared to cause havoc when they say so," he says with a grin of excitement that makes me shiver.

  "Why are you telling me this?"

  He just shrugs. "I'm just looking forward to the show, figured giving you a heads up would make it more entertaining.”

  Having finished messing with me, the guy walks back to his table of friends across the lunchroom.

  What the fuck? Is he for real?

  Looking back over at their table, I see Preston and Barrett staring at me with determined looks on their faces. I have no idea what is going on but it can’t be good.

  Chapter 7

  Thankfully I make it through the rest of the day without incident. The student body mostly continued to ignore my existence. Only the one-percenters acknowledged my presence, and that was just to send haughty glares my way, ‘accidentally’ slam into me and send my stuff flying, or to talk trash about me while they pretended they didn’t see me. All petty things, but I collected each incident and used it to fuel my anger. If these rich dickheads want to bully me until I leave, well the joke is on them. There is no way Robert would sign off on me transferring schools, regardless of what they do to me. Not that I’m going to run crying to daddy anyway. No, I am a fighter, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

  The final bell rings to signal the end of the school day and I slowly gather my things, not in any rush to spend an hour alone with Ms. Harrison. As I swing my bag onto my back and stand up, I realise the other students have all left, except for the three Barbies in the one-percenters group.

  They have closed the classroom door and are now standing at the front of the room, arms crossed and glaring daggers at me. Oh yay, I wondered when I would have a run-in with them. No teen movie or book is complete without an altercation with the head bitches.

  “I can’t imagine what you could have done to piss off Preston and Barrett, but you better stay away from them,” middle Barbie threatens.

  “What did you do anyway? Give them an STD?” Laughs Barbie on the right.

  “Lizzie, there’s no way they slept with trash like her, I mean look at her,” middle Barbie says, sneering at me like I’m dog shit on her perfectly polished designer shoes.

  “Barbies, Barbies, no need to go pissing all over your territory,” I interject, causing all three blonde bimbos to wrinkle their noses in disgust, “I have no interest in Preston or Barrett. Just a little disagreement between families is all.

  “Guys like Preston and Barrett have no interest in girls beyond using them as accessories at events and holes to stick their dicks in when the need arises. Not something I look for in a guy, but if that’s your preference then have at it; they are all yours.”

  “Barbies?” says Barbie on the left, speaking up for the first time and seeming baffled by the name. I think it fits her perfectly.

  “Disagreement between families?” Enquires middle Barbie, "I’ve never heard of the Montgomerys before. You can’t be that significant of a family if we have never heard of you, so why would the guys waste their time on a nobody like you?”

  Hmm, interesting. So, Preston and Barrett know my family, but not the rest of the one-percenters, and presumably the school. So, we Montgomerys can’t be that well known in the rich douchebag circle. Good to know. I tuck that bit of information away to think about later when I don’t have three pissed off Barbies glaring at me.

  Shrugging my shoulders, I refuse to give them any information.

  “Stay away from Preston, Barrett, and Kurt. They’re ours. You think things are difficult now, but they can get a whole lot worse if you don’t do as we say,” promises middle Barbie before they turn on their heels, the three of them performing the move perfectly in sync as though they rehearsed it, and head out the door.

  Shaking my head at the stupidity of that confrontation, I follow them out of the classroom and head towards my locker, mulling over what they said.

  So, the girls don’t know why I’m here, or why Preston and Barrett want rid of me. Meaning only Preston and Barrett know what my father is up to, or at least know he’s up to something, and they don’t seem too happy about whatever that something is, using me to drive my father out of their town.

  It’s giving me a headache trying to figure it all out. One thing is for sure, their plan is not going to work. They may not want me or my father in this town, but they obviously don’t know anything about who my father is. Hell, I’ve just met my father and I already know it wouldn’t matter how miserable I am here. He wouldn’t care.

  I make a quick stop by my locker to switch out some books, not wanting to be late to detention. Unfortunately, I’m not lucky enough to just be left alone for the rest of the day. Instead, as I am hurrying to Ms. Harrison’s classroom, Preston and Barrett come around the corner, blocking my path.

  Slinging his arm around my shoulder, giving me his megawatt smile that makes my vagina come alive, even though I mentally berate myself for having that reaction, Barrett asks, “How was your first day of school? Make lots of new friends?” Laughing his head off, knowing that, of course, I didn’t make any friends. Asshole.

  Preston stands right in front of me, basically toe to toe; so close that I can smell his clove and firewood scent - dammit I need to bottle that smell - and stares at me with that scowl that seems permanently etched on his face. “This was just a taste of what’s to come if you and your father don’t pack up and leave. It will only get worse,” he states in a cold emotionless voice that causes me to involuntarily shiver.

  Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I straighten my spine and raise
my chin defiantly. “You can do whatever you want to me, it won’t make my father change his plans. Whatever your problem is with him, sort it out between yourselves and just leave me the hell alone.”

  Preston’s eyes narrow and I swear if looks could kill, I’d be dead and buried on the spot. Leaning in so we are even closer, our chests an inch apart and our noses nearly touching, he snarls at me, “Scum like you doesn’t belong here. You can leave on your own, or I can make you. The decision is yours, but, Princess, you sure as hell won’t like it if I have to make you,” he threatens with a cruel smirk before taking off, striding down the hall with Barrett beside him.

  Taking a deep breath, I shake off the feeling of Barrett’s arm around me and the lingering smell of Preston and hurry to detention before I’m officially late. Again.

  One long hour later and I’m finally free. Not wanting to spend even one more minute in this hellhole, I hastily make my way across the car park and climb into the car waiting for me, glad to finally have a moment alone.

  ◆◆◆

  Walking through the front door of the mansion, I notice Thomas is waiting for me. “Miss, your father is waiting for you in his office.”

  Ugh, I just want to climb into my bed and pretend this day never happened. Instead, I nod and follow dutifully behind Thomas as he escorts me to my father’s office, where he knocks on the door and gestures for me to head in.

  “Sophie, how was your first day?” My father asks the minute I’m in the room, not looking up from whatever work is on his desk. I get the impression though that he’s not asking because he was worried his precious daughter might have had a stressful first day. No, he is trying to lure me into a false sense of safety, lower my defenses and catch me off guard. Not a chance, fucker.

  “It was good,” I respond, keeping it vague, not wanting to share any part of my day with him.

  He doesn’t initially acknowledge that I said anything, leaving me to stew in his silence as I stand awkwardly by the door. After a few minutes of this uncomfortableness, he finally looks up from the paperwork on his desk, fixing his cold gaze on me.

  “I had a very interesting phone call today from one of your teachers, a Ms. Harrison?” He informs me, getting straight to the point while he studies me, wanting to see my reaction. I should have known he would have had the teachers in school reporting back to him.

  “Did I or did I not tell you to keep your head down and stay out of trouble?” He demands, his voice impassive and apathetic. The effect is more chilling than if he yelled and showed me his anger.

  “It wasn’t my fault. Someone -”

  “I don’t care whose fault it is!” He snaps out, cutting over my excuse.

  “I specifically said I couldn’t have you causing trouble for me here, yet, on your first day no less, you end up in detention for writing a dirty note.”

  “I didn’t -” I start to justify.

  “I don’t give a shit if you did or didn’t. You disobeyed me and I won’t stand for that disrespect in my house.” He warns, getting up from behind his desk and walking over to the fireplace, lifting the fireplace poker and sticking it into the coals, stoking the fire which seems to always be lit.

  He gazes unseeingly into the fire for several long minutes while I continue to stand nervously by the door, not having worked up the courage to move further into the room and take a seat.

  I start to shift restlessly from one foot to the other, twisting my hands in the pleats of my skirt while I wait for him to say or do something. He’s made it clear that I’m going to be punished for what happened today, I just wish he would get on with it and ground me, or whatever he’s going to do.

  After what feels like forever, he finally turns away from the fire, stalking towards me with a predator’s unwavering attention. My palms are sweaty and I can hardly swallow past the lump in my throat as I watch him approach. There is a glint in his eye telling me that, although he’s angry, he is enjoying this position of power he has over me.

  Before I can even register what has happened, an excruciating pain ignites in my side, and I cry out as my knees give way and I crash to the floor, bracing my hands against the wooden floorboards to stop myself from falling flat on my face. What the fuck?

  The initial pain only lasts a second before it changes into a no less painful burning sensation spreading up the side of my body. The pain is so bad I can hardly breathe through it, gritting my teeth as tears leak out the corner of my eyes. I can’t do anything but sit there and focus on just breathing for several long moments.

  Once I’ve finally gathered myself a bit, the pain still not having eased at all, I turn my head to take in my left side, trying to work out what happened to me.

  There is a hole in my shirt, the edges of which are singed. Underneath, there is a long thin strip of bright red skin, the area wet and shiny looking, already starting to blister.

  Whipping my head back to glare at my father, I watch as he sets the fireplace poker down beside the fire. Realisation kicks in. That motherfucker burnt me with the poker after stoking the fire. What in the seven hells is wrong with this monster?

  As though nothing completely and utterly fucking insane just happened, Robert heads back to his desk, going back to work, ignoring the fact I’m in a crumpled heap on the floor.

  “I didn’t want to do that to you, but you forced me to, when you didn’t follow my orders.” He says calmly, showing none of the rage he displayed earlier at my disobedience. He’s purged himself of that anger now, gotten his payback for my disrespect, and in doing so he has managed to make it seem as though this was all my fault, that I deserved the punishment I got.

  Looking up from his work, he casts his eyes over me, sneering with disgust at my display of weakness. I have to say I’m disappointed in myself for letting him see me like this, for cowering in front of him, but it really fucking hurts.

  “Perhaps now you will take what I say seriously. Now go clean up, you’re a mess.” He sneers, his lip curling in disgust.

  I pick myself up from the floor, every movement causing a ripple of pain to flare up my side, but I refuse to show any more fragility in front of him, so I grit my teeth and make a concentrated effort not to let the pain show on my face as I gather myself together and leave the room.

  I hobble slowly up to my bedroom, not meeting a single other person on my way. I’m not sure if I want to run into Thomas or not, if I want him to know what happened to me. What my father did to me.

  Once I’m back in the safety of my bedroom, I head to the bathroom, running the tap and filling the sink with cold water while I dig around in the cabinets until I find a small first aid kit.

  Stripping off my shirt and throwing it in the bin, I grab a small towel and drop it in the water, ensuring it’s soaked before I press it against my skin, hissing out a breath at the coldness and sting of pain.

  Every time the towel warms up and the pain starts to return, I repeat the process until the pain is a dull ache.

  Turning my attention to the first aid kit, I find a sterile non-adhesive bandage and some medical tape. Gently placing the bandage over the wound, I then secure it in place with the tape, ensuring it’s not held too tightly against the wound.

  With the immediate problem now sorted, I hunt out some painkillers and swallow them down before stripping out of the rest of my clothing and putting on a loose tank top and some sweats. After tidying up behind myself, I drag my exhausted body over to the bed and climb under the covers.

  I’m completely wrung out and tears have gathered behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I won’t let that sadistic fuck get to me.

  Who does Robert think he is? What sort of fucked up life has he led that he thinks it’s ok to go around burning people just because they disrespected you?

  He completely caught me off guard today. I never in my wildest dreams could have anticipated that reaction from him. But now I know what he is capable of, I’ll be prepared for every future interaction we have. He won
’t catch me out again.

  ◆◆◆

  Between the exhaustion and the painkillers, I must have fallen asleep. When I wake up, I see that it is early evening and my stomach is grumbling. I lie in bed, putting off the inevitable for as long as I can. When I can no longer ignore the intense growling sounds coming from my stomach, I give in and saunter out of my room and down the hall, towards the kitchen. I’ve missed dinner but hopefully Thomas will have a plate in the oven for me.

  I’ve just reached the bottom of the stairs when I hear people talking in the kitchen. Dammit, I’d hoped to make it in and out without running into anyone. I’m so not in the mood to deal with anybody right now.

  “- I don’t know what to do with her.” I hear my father say, sighing. He sounds as though he is completely exhausted.

  I quietly sneak closer to the entranceway into the kitchen, wanting to catch a glimpse of who he is talking to.

  Keeping to the shadows, I tilt my head so I can see round the doorframe, seeing my father sitting at the island in the kitchen. He looks…like a mess. His top button is undone and his tie is askew.

  What’s even more surprising is that, on the other side of the island, is Thomas. He is standing to attention, unlike my father who looks like he has been unceremoniously dumped in his stool, relying solely on his elbows perched on the island to keep him upright.

  “She was so close to her mother, I know she misses her dreadfully.” My father continues, taking a deep gulp of dark brown liquid from the glass in his hand.