by Sofia Daniel
My brows furrowed. The permission part was hardly the point. Nichelle used to try on my stuff all the time, and I never minded until she decided to try my man. Former man. I shook off those thoughts. That was my past.
Gideon bowed his head. “If you wish to report me—”
“For what?”
He glanced up. “The academy has rules against lewd conduct. I would say that finding a boy wearing your clothes comes under that definition.”
“Are you gay?” I asked.
Gideon’s shoulders stiffened. His form of bristling, I suppose. “What makes you jump to such outlandish conclusions?”
“I don’t know.” Folding my arms across my chest, I swept my gaze down his slender form. “Call it a hunch.”
The ruffles in the back gave him a semblance of hips, and if I sewed a few ruffles at the front, they’d mimic boobs. He didn’t look too bad in my dress. With some curling tongs, a bit of makeup, and some heels, he could pass for an athletic-looking girl.
“Are you going to tell anyone?” he whispered.
“Fuck, no.” I waved my hand. “Whatever you do behind closed doors is your business.”
Gideon’s lips tightened. “Must you use that kind of language?”
“So, what’s this all about, then?” I placed my hands on my hips. “You must have known I’d eventually return from the headmaster. Why did you take such a risk?”
He blew out a breath. “You seem a little more open-minded than the others at the academy, and I suppose part of me wanted to get caught.”
I walked to the desk, swiveled the chair around, and sat. Gideon stole a glance at himself in the mirror. The vain fucker.
My lips curled into a smile. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“There’s a club in Glasgow called Wank. I’ve been a few times but always in boys’ clothes. It has five different rooms, so there’s music for everyone’s taste.”
“A gay club?”
“Metro.” He raised a mahogany-colored shoulder. “It’s the hottest club night in town. I want to borrow your dress.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
Lips curling into a shy smile, he gazed at me under his lashes. “I could use the moral support.”
Excitement bubbled up in my chest, making me return his smile. “When are we going?”
“The next one is at the end of the month. We could take the evening bus to Glasgow and pick up the bus returning to the academy at noon.”
“Brilliant! Are you going to wear that dress?”
“May I?”
“It’s yours.”
Everyone still called me Hand-Cock, handjob, or some other variation. Whatever. I mostly ignored it unless someone decided to step up the harassment. Some idiot placed drawing pins on my chair, but I tipped them to the ground before sitting. Another twat gave me a pat on the back, but I tore off my blazer, ripped off the sticker that said ‘I LUV COCK’ and stuck it on his forehead.
Throughout these silly pranks, either Orlando, Maxwell, or both would stand in the vicinity, giving me wry smiles.
None of that mattered because the upcoming Glasgow weekend kept me going. Now that I knew Gideon’s secret, we became closer, and he no longer bothered with the elocution lessons, saying that my south London accent was part of my charm.
One morning, a package arrived at breakfast, mostly containing an array of MAC makeup in colors too vibrant for my skin.
I pulled out a plum lip gloss and whispered, “What’s this?”
Gideon held his teacup to his lips. “Consider it our shared stash. I bought a few things that will suit your shade, but if there’s anything else you want, give me the product names, and I’ll add them to my next order.”
“Really? What will your parents say when they see your credit card statement?”
“They’ll think I have a girlfriend.” He set his cup down. “You’re my friend, aren’t you?”
I gave him an eager nod. “And a girl, too.”
“What’s this?” said a haughty voice.
I closed the box and glowered into the pale eyes of Elizabeth Liddell.
She stuck her nose in the air. “It doesn’t surprise me that you need so much makeup to look presentable. I wager you’re a beast without several layers of concealer.”
“Go back to your seat and get a life,” I muttered.
“The academy has rules against makeup.” She swiped her hand over my cheek and studied her clean finger. “What the hell is this, a waterproof brand?”
“Unlike you, I don’t need a trowel to hide a mass of acne scars.” My insides twisted with guilt. Lots of people at home got bullied for having too many blemishes, but these daily insults ground down on my patience.
I gave her a wink. “A little word of advice. Exfoliate before you conceal. Your skin looks like the surface of an apple crumble.”
“Ha!” Someone in the next table clapped a hand over their mouth.
Elizabeth’s lips trembled. “Not all of us have the benefit of semen masks.”
“What on earth are you girls talking about?” Mrs. Campbell’s shrill voice made me flinch.
Elizabeth placed her hands on her hips. “Miss Hand-Cock was disparaging my skin condition.”
I hooked my thumb at the honey-blonde menace. “Because this one over there tried to wipe off my makeup to find I wasn’t wearing any. And she implied I kept my skin clear with male ejaculate.”
“Liar,” she snapped.
“Miss Liddell, don’t compound your foul language with a lie. I will see you in my office right away.” The deputy headmistress spun on her heel and stormed out of the dining room.
“You’ll pay for this,” Elizabeth snarled before trailing after Mrs. Campbell.
I shook my head. “What is her problem?”
“You don’t know?” asked Gideon.
“She wants me to leave?”
“You’re a threat.” Gideon turned his gaze to her table. Maxwell, Orlando, and Kendrick stared in our direction. “She’s been the queen of the academy. Now that you’ve arrived, she feels you might knock her off her throne.”
I snatched my gaze away and focused on my friend. “Because we’re both blondes? That’s ridiculous.”
“Those three reprobates have been vying for her affection for years. Elizabeth has kept them keen with crumbs of attention.”
“What’s so special about her?”
“She’s one of the prettiest girls in the academy, and an heiress, too.”
“They’re after her money?”
“Not them. Most parents will put pressure on their sons to befriend the future Lady Liddel. The man who marries her will secure that title for himself and his first-born son.”
I shook my head. “Social climbers.”
“That’s how it is with the upper echelons of any society.” Gideon took a slice of toast from the rack and spread a generous serving of butter on its surface. “It’s about wealth and titles.”
“I’m glad to be working class, then.”
“Well, imagine her frustration when you came along. Same height, similar hair, brighter eyes, and looking more attainable.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Is that your way of calling me a slut?”
“Hardly.” He bit into his toast. “But you can’t deny that Elizabeth sets herself up as a virgin in the tower.”
My eyes narrowed. I didn’t need to be a mastermind to understand Gideon’s implication. Without all that wealth, there wouldn’t be much difference between Elizabeth and me. Yet the silly cow wanted me to suffer for having slightly better skin and being more approachable.
“In this fairytale, would I be the bubbly tavern wench?”
He dipped his head, his shoulders shaking with laughter. I tried to picture myself in a low cut, medieval bodice, and shook my head. No way.
We later heard through Myra, the tawny-haired, gazpacho-flinging witch that Elizabeth had been banned from the next Glasgow weekend for lewd behavior.
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br /> The two girls shot me the filthiest looks, but their unprovoked attacks had put them on verbal warnings. The next time they started anything with me, they’d get sent home for ten days.
The weekend before our big night out, I was walking through the top floor hallway when the sound of hurrying footsteps filled my ears.
“Morning, handjob.” A familiar voice curled around my senses.
I continued walking.
“Hand-Cock, I’m talking to you.”
I stared at my imaginary watch.
Orlando overtook me and stepped in my path.
I side-stepped, but he blocked. Maxwell stood at his side, the pair of them taking up most of the hallway.
“What is this,” I snapped. “Billy Goats Gruff?”
“That would make you the troll,” said a voice from behind.
I rolled my eyes, not needing to know that Kendrick was taking up the rear. “What are you lot trying to do, bore me to death?”
“What are you doing for the Glasgow weekend?” asked Maxwell.
My lips curled into a smile. “Why don’t you three ask Elizabeth out?”
Orlando’s smile faltered. “Maybe we wanted to ask you first.”
I folded my arms across my chest. After my conversation with Gideon, I had a better understanding of why those three hung around such a mean-spirited girl. Their parents had put pressure on them to befriend Elizabeth. Not that it was an excuse. No amount of money or titles would influence me, and I couldn’t see why they played along with the wretched girl.
“Uh-huh?” I faked a yawn. “I don’t suppose Mrs. Campbell’s decision to ban Elizabeth from the upcoming weekend has anything to do with your newfound friendliness.”
Maxwell grinned. It was the kind of smile a leopard gave its prey before it pounced. “Of course not.”
“What do you say.” Orlando winked. “Will you go to Glasgow with us in a limousine fully stocked with champagne, caviar, and chocolates?”
I wrinkled my nose. “No.”
“Are you dating Adewale, now?” asked Kendrick from behind.
The other boys laughed.
“You want to know why I’m turning you down?” I said, ignoring Kendrick. The boys stopped chuckling to listen. “I’m used to bigger, better, and bolder. Neither of you lives up to my standards.”
Their faces fell, and triumph surged through my insides. That would teach them to act like a bunch of wankers. I slid through the gap between Orlando and Maxwell’s bodies and hurried down the hallway before the shock of my rejection wore off.
Chapter 10
Anticipation thrummed in my chest on Saturday. It spread down to my stomach, awakening the butterflies that usually lay dormant.
That morning, Gideon and I kept exchanging excited glances over our scrambled eggs on toast. We had already booked the ten AM bus that would arrive in Glasgow around noon.
After a day of browsing around the city, we would get changed at the Clyde Hotel, which rented rooms by the hour, go to Wank, and leave our bags in the cloakroom.
Mr. Burgh stood from his seat at the head table and announced, “Those of you who have accumulated enough merits to earn a trip to Glasgow should approach Mrs. Campbell to confirm transportation. Sixth-formers whose parents or guardians have signed permission slips for overnight absences must return before dinner on Sunday unless they wish to be banned from future weekends.”
I pressed my lips together, hoping that Mother had authorized me to come and go as I pleased.
Over at the knights’ table, Elizabeth hunched over with her fists clenched. Kendrick tried to whisper something to her, but she shoved him away. It served her right.
“Have you finished?” Gideon set down his half-eaten toast.
I gave him an eager nod. As we rose, I stole another glance at Elizabeth. Not to gloat, but it was strange to see her looking so defeated. Maxwell caught my eye and winked. I snatched my gaze away and followed Gideon out of the room.
Later that afternoon, Mr. McGarr parked the minibus at a stop in Glasgow town center, which wasn’t anything like I had expected. It was a combination of old buildings that reminded me of central London and a grid system that wouldn’t have looked out of place in America.
The late September sun peeped out from behind the clouds, and a cool breeze meandered through the buildings.
A group of us walked down Buchanan Street, a road closed off to traffic that boasted all the high street stores, but Gideon and I soon lost them in the crowds.
“This is a bit like Harry Potter,” I said as we passed the most gorgeous tea shop with cakes in the window.
“Except Hermione and Harry didn’t party overnight in Hogsmeade.”
I puffed out my chest. “I’m Hermione?”
“More like a female Draco.” He grinned. “I’m Blaise Zabini, of course.”
“Of course.” I looped my arm around his, and we ducked into Victoria’s Secret. The scent of vanilla perfume filled my senses, making me sigh.
“What are you doing?” he whispered.
I eyed a lacy, pink thong. “Getting something to wear underneath my new dress.”
“Great idea.” Gideon turned to a set of crimson underwear.
We spent nearly an hour browsing and sniffing perfume samples. After choosing our items, I paid with my share of the fireplace stash.
Afterward, we wandered into the Royal Exchange, which combined Roman-style buildings with upmarket stores, cafes, and restaurants.
I clutched my Victoria’s Secret bags, trying not to be tempted by the displays of gorgeous clothes and accessories.
In the end, I only spent a few hundred pounds in cash. My credit card burned a hole in my pocket, but I didn’t dare use it in case Sammy read the statement and discovered I was in Scotland.
The Clyde Hotel was located close to Queen Street Station. It wasn’t as dingy as I had imagined, and there was plenty of space in the bathroom for me to fix Gideon’s makeup and to style his straightened hair with curling tongs. After we finished dressing, I positioned him in front of the full-length mirror.
He turned around. “The ruffles you added to the bust makes me look almost convincing.”
“Until you open your mouth.” I applied a layer of purple mascara to make the blue in my eyes pop.
Gideon chuckled. “Let’s arrive early and get something to eat on the balcony.”
We walked arm-in-arm through the lamp-lit, city streets, each holding bags containing a mix of shopping and a change of clothes. Gideon led me to a row of Victorian buildings where people dressed in clubbing gear bustled out of the back streets and taxis.
“How many clubs are on this road?” I asked.
“Just one.”
Music boomed from a cathedral-looking structure guarded by huge doormen, and a line of over a hundred people stretched out around the corner.
My brows rose. People seldom needed to queue for very long at the Velvet Lounge. I supposed this was the effect of a city center and a once-a-month night.
We continued to the end of the line, passing girls locked in passionate kisses, and single-sex groups. Occasionally, I would spot a heterosexual couple, but they appeared to be in the minority.
“You weren’t joking when you said the club was metrosexual,” I whispered.
“Are you nervous?” he whispered back as we rounded the corner.
“More like excited to see what it’s going to be like inside.”
We passed a drag queen dressed in a Lady Gaga-style meat dress. Instead of strips of steak, the queen wore cut bits of foam, colored to look like beef jerky. Behind him were a pair of trendy-looking heterosexual couples, the first wearing black leather, and the second red rubber.
I glanced down at my cut-out dress, feeling a little underdressed, but I shook off that feeling. This was my first night out in ages, and I would be happy to be here wearing a sack.
We lined up behind two tall guys who reminded me of the Deloraine twins, except one had colored his hair
with silver hair wax and the other gold. They wore leather pants with tight T-shirts that highlighted their every delectable muscle.
The one with the silver hair turned to his friend and muttered something about the wait, giving us a glimpse of full lips and a handsome, Roman nose.
I gave Gideon a nudge and nodded at them. He grinned back and waggled his brows, confirming that he also liked sexy guys.
“What kind of music is there?” I asked.
“All sorts,” replied Gideon. “There are rooms for garage, drum and bass, jungle, nu-jazz, and chill out. Although the chill-out room is used more for hookups.”
The guy with the silver hair turned around and swept his gaze up and down Gideon’s form. “Planning on going there soon?”
Gideon’s lips twisted into a smile. “That depends entirely on if you’re asking.”
Mr. Silver-Hair gave Gideon the widest grin. “Nice dress. Even nicer legs.”
Gideon preened. “How would you like them wrapped around your waist?”
My eyes bulged, and I tried not to choke on Gideon’s transformation from the poshest guy at the academy to the Sultan of Sass.
The silver-haired guy’s friend turned around. His gaze dropped to my cleavage, and he turned back. I guess he also wasn’t interested in girls.
By the time we reached the top of the line, Mr. Silver-Hair, who had introduced himself as Lachlan, paid for Gideon and me to enter. He also took us both to the nu-jazz room and bought us vodka cocktails served in bottles.
While they tried to include me in the conversation, I stepped away from them and stared into the dance floor, looking for a friendly face. Lachlan seemed to be interested in more than a quick shag, and the last thing I wanted to do was intrude on a potential relationship for Gideon.
A man with bleached blonde hair styled into spikes caught my eye and grinned. He wore a black t-shirt with a chainmail harness.
I licked my lips and gave him a saucy wink.
Someone from behind wrapped an arm around my waist. “I thought I might find you here.”
I turned around to find a shirtless Maxwell grinning down at me with mischief in his silvery eyes. My gaze roved over the tattoos covering his chest and arms. An ornate design stretched from his collarbone down to his pierced nipples.