by Nora Cobb
“There’s a lovely bookstore and cafeteria behind South Hall,” she chirps. “And you can use your account to buy some very nice things.” There’s an emphasis on the last three words.
My face must light up like Christmas morning, and Ms. Schneider leans in closer. “You should check it out, my dear.”
I return to my locker, keeping an eye out for Jacob, but “Fleming” would be located on the second floor. I’m always thankful for a little luck. I don’t see Anthony around either, and I should have gotten his number. Though Montlake has a strict “no phones in classroom” policy, students use their phones all day long. The trick is to type quickly. I head over to the student center behind South Hall to find him.
Not knowing what to do, I wander along with the herd entering the student center, surrounded by a flood of kids. The interior is enormous, like an outlet mall with two levels. The first level has food stations along the exterior walls and rows of dining tables in the center. The upper-level balcony has individual shops, including a drugstore, athletic store, computers, and a few high-end brand names. Overwhelmed, I stop a few feet away from two senior girls who are leaning against a wall. The tall redhead is dressed in silver gray. It’s not the bland school gray, so she looks stunning. The curvy blonde is dressed in a dark red satin top and matching suede skirt. Her lipstick matches her high heels. I’m debating asking them for help, but I wimp out when I notice their judging looks. Their eyes are on me, and I swear that I hear one of them whisper, “Is that her?”
“That skirt is so long it looks like a tent,” whispers the redhead.
“A tent? It’s like the sail on my dad’s boat, Cora,” laughs the blonde.
“Maybe she bought it from the Amish,” the redhead giggles.
“You mean they donated it to her.”
“She probably has granny panties underneath that.” The redhead screws up her nose.
“You want to look or something?” The blonde tugs at her arm, and the redhead yanks it out of her grasp.
“Oh my God, you’re so annoying.”
They are talking about me while I stand there with my feet frozen as if I’m wearing blocks of ice instead of sneakers. Without missing a beat, they start making fun of my Converse lace-ups. I’m not staying around for this. I’m not a lame target, and they’re not even that witty. I could say some choice words about their hoochie skirts and bright red lips, but I won’t.
But I could.
I turn to leave and bam! I slam right into Jacob’s solid chest. It’s not an accident because he wasn’t moving forward. The prick was waiting for me to turn around so I’d plow into him! He crosses his arms and it’s obvious he’s ready to start again. He’s got a snobby sneer on his face, but his stony, dark eyes are drilling into me. The other students scatter around us because they’re desperate to get out of the line of fire.
“Well look who it is,” he says to the blond guy standing next to him. “Defender of the outcasts.”
The blond guy smirks without looking at me. The boy looks like he owns the world. His pale blond hair is layered to his chin, and his blue eyes shine as if they’re backlit. He’s wearing a varsity jacket with a basketball patch, and the word “Captain” is embroidered over it. It’s warm outside for September, but he looks comfortable, as if the heat doesn’t bother him. He gives Jacob a dismissive look, as if he just can’t be bothered with the bullshit.
“Dial it back, Fleming,” he says, “You’re flunking English.”
Jacob glares at me as if I’m the one who just insulted him. But his friend smiles and holds out his hand. For a moment, I stare at it before we shake. Who shakes hands anyway? I mean adults do, but this is high school. Nope, this is Montlake. I’m way over my head and sinking fast. In fact, I’m about to touch bottom.
“Troy Saunders,” his smile is thin, “and you are?”
“Natalie Page.” His voice is smooth as thick cream, but my guard is way up.
“Pages of the Hamptons?” There’s snickering behind me, and I know I’m being set up. But dammit, my uncle is as rich as these snobs.
“Pages of West Lake.” Tilting my chin up, I reply, “My uncle is Phillip Page.”
That gets their attention. And a few people are looking at me with curiosity. Name dropping is tacky, and it’s my uncle’s money, not mine, but he’s not in the pit with these snobby kids. I’ve got to use whatever ammo I have.
Troy’s lips curl in distaste, and he would be devastatingly handsome if it weren’t for the disdainful look in his icy eyes. “New money,” he purrs. “The kind that doesn’t last a generation. And who were your parents, new girl?”
I can’t answer him, and I wonder how Troy knows to use the past tense. Was it an innocent mistake? It doesn’t matter. It’s like a sucker punch, and all I can do is close my mouth. I get the nickname now. ‘New girl’ isn’t because I’m new. They’re referring to the money.
“You know,” he continues in my silence. “I’ve never heard of the Pages of West Lake. I’ve heard of West Lake, though. Fucking garbage dump of a town.”
I bristle at his words. West Lake is only one town over from Montlake. It’s a decent town to live in with single-family homes and places to hang out with my old friends. How dare he call it a garbage dump of a town! But I can’t think about my old town now, for all the painful memories.
Jacob laughs. “Trash is trash no matter how much they’ve got in the bank account.”
“My parents weren’t trash, you fucking asshole.”
“And a dirty mouth, too.” He stares at my pursed lips. “I wonder what else you can do with that mouth, Trashalicious.”
“You’re a fucking pig.”
He steps closer.
“You could use it for something else besides squawking. Maybe I should wash it out in the bathroom for you. What do you say to that?”
The tears are about to start, but not because they’re jerks. I’m pissed, but what can I do other than escape? I step to my right, and Jacob steps in front of me. I try to dodge around him, but he’s too quick. He laughs like he’s getting off on tormenting me. Kids are hurrying past us as others stop to watch. Where’s a fucking adult when you need one? I try one more time to get around him, but Jacob won’t let me pass. They laugh at me, and I lose it.
In frustration, I shove Jacob hard in the chest. But he’s not going anywhere. It’s like pushing into a wall of granite. My fingertips touch the hard pecs under his jersey, and my breath catches. In the movies, only men are this buff, and never boys. I lift my eyes up to him. And the knowing look Jacob gives me sends a shiver through my whole body as my cheeks color. He lowers his eyes, and sweat forms on his upper lip. Holding my breath, I stare, looking the fool, but I’m caught, and Jacob knows it.
Jacob yanks me close and presses against my body. The vibe I feel isn’t hate. It’s lust. He puts his hand on my ass and gives it a smutty squeeze. That wakes me up. Self-preservation kicks in, and I try to yank myself off the horny beast, but Jacob won’t let go.
“I like slumming it, Trashalicious,” Jacob taunts. “I’ll pay to play. Just name your price, new girl.”
“Fuck off, you jerk.” I struggle harder.
“School janitor’s got more class than you.”
Enough. My hand takes over as it rises up to smack his fresh mouth. My aim misses as Jacob is pulled off me by Lucas. A raging Jacob is ready to punch the person who ended his fun until it registers in his tiny reptilian brain that it’s Lucas. Jacob sharply shakes Lucas’ hand off his shoulder. I feel relief cool my body.
I feel ill, and kids are staring at me as if I’m the one who was in the wrong. I don’t get it. Does Jacob think that’s sexy? It’s not, and it’s not okay. He’s a sick fuck, literally, and I wish I had nothing to do with him.
“It’s too early in the semester for drama, Jake.” Lucas stares him down. “It’s not worth it.”
Am I just an it to these people? Lucas doesn’t look at me, and it’s as if he’s forgotten that we met i
n class. I don’t exist around these snobs. Jacob shoots me an angry scowl. But I’m too dazed by Lucas’ slight to say anything.
“You can’t be a captain if they suspend you,” Lucas continues, turning his back. “You need to spend your time on your grades, you remedial fuck.”
“Go fuck yourself, Lucas.” Jacob’s face turns a furious red that would scare an average person, but Lucas chuckles.
“I already have.” Lucas hugs his arm around Jacob’s shoulders. “Many times. Maybe next time, I’ll try you.” Jacob pushes Lucas away but Lucas tugs him along into the cafeteria.
With a nasty smirk on his all-American pretty-boy face, Troy watches me for a moment, then turns to catch up to the other two. Jacob, Lucas, and Troy are all friends and captains of the biggest teams at the Academy.
“So where are we going this weekend?” asks Troy. “There’s a new spot in the city that will serve us drinks.”
“Sounds good,” replies Jacob. “Make a reservation.”
A reservation in New York City? They’re in high school. No, this isn’t high school. This is purgatory, and I’m headed straight to hell. I’m no fool. I’m not about to walk into the cafeteria by myself. Blocking out the residual stares and smirks, I head outside as quickly as I can. I have a granola bar in my bag that was for later, but I’ll eat it in the courtyard on a bench.
“Hey, is that all you’re having for lunch?”
A curvy girl is standing near the bench with a crooked smile. She looks like the girls from my old high school with dyed ebony hair and turquoise streaks, heavy eye makeup, and burgundy painted lips. She’s wearing thin black leggings under a distressed khaki skirt. She looks pretty cool, but I’m in no mood to be teased. That quota is filled. I just nod my head and look away.
She tosses her bag onto the bench then pulls a bottle of water and a granola bar out of her leather tote bag. “I’ll split my drink with you.”
I stare at her like she just announced my name at an awards show for the top prize. I’m usually so good with tapping down my emotions, but I’m too drained to hide anything. She laughs to ease the tension and then sits on the bench beside me.
“My name’s Beth. Not Elizabeth. Just Beth. I prefer my nickname.”
Easing up, I grin slightly. “My name’s Natalie. I don’t have a nickname.”
“Not yet,” she sighs.
I’m hesitant to say anything else, just in case she’s playing me. But Beth only nods her head and takes a swig of her water before handing it to me.
“I saw what happened. The jocks in this school are a-holes. They’re born that way. Their parents have to attach their asshole babies to a body so they can walk around.”
I close my mouth tight and swallow before I spray the water over Beth. “What is wrong with them?” I ask.
Beth shrugs her shoulders as she takes back the bottle and drinks. “Bad parenting plus a ridiculous amount of money equals entitled jerks,” she explains. “You should see the temper tantrums they pull when they don’t get their way.”
Beth leans into me and lowers her voice. “One of the girls had a hissy fit because her parents bought her a Mercedes and not a BMW. They brought it to school to surprise her for her eighteenth birthday, and she had a meltdown on the driveway because it was the wrong car. A week later, she wrapped it around a pole and folded the front end. So they ended up buying her the BMW after all.”
“What? She totaled her car and got a new one?”
“Like I said. Entitled jerks.”
My mouth hangs open, and I don’t bother to close it. I look away and stare at North Hall as I take a slow bite of my granola bar. How am I going to do this? How am I going to make it through the year? Can I just go back to my old school and demand they take me back? My mind is spiraling down to the dark depths.
“You okay?” Beth nudges my arm.
“Yeah.” I eye Beth, and the doubt creeps in. “Why are you being nice to me?”
Beth throws her head back and laughs, causing a few stares, but no one stops to investigate. “New money needs to stick together. And I’m a friend of Anthony’s. He told me what you did.”
“Which was very stupid, now that I think about it,” I sigh.
“Yeah, stupid, but brave. Just lie low, and it’ll blow over.”
“Do you think that will work?”
She wrinkles her nose. “No. You’re screwed.”
“Where is Anthony anyway?”
Her gaze goes toward West Hall, and Beth doesn’t look at me when she says she doesn’t know. I’m sure she does, but that’s okay. I have secrets, too.
I shove the empty wrapper into my bag and take out my phone. This time, I’m getting a number. I hand it to Beth, she taps the screen, and I hear her ringtone in her bag. It’s an ancient disco song, and the woman is declaring that she will survive.
“I love that song,” she explains. “It was on Drag Race.”
“Thanks,” I smile. “It’s not easy being seen with Trashalicious.”
Beth waves me off. “My parents own a retail coffee chain that’s global. Those bitches carry the cups, but around here, I’m Ms. Town Dump. I could drive a BMW, I could wear couture polo shirts, I could bathe in money every morning, but I’ll always stink like trash to these snobs.” Sighing deeply, Beth leans back, resting her arms across the back of the bench. “I would give a fuck, but it’ll cost them.”
“But why are they like this? Because we weren’t born rich?”
Beth nods her head. “My parents were middle-class from South Jersey. And that’s even worse. Wannabes have it a lot worse than scholarship kids.”
Beth drags me back into the center to shop for clothes after insisting it will help my blown image. But eventually, Beth admits she wants to spend her daddy’s money. I see a navy Montblanc fountain pen displayed on the counter and buy one for me and another one for Phil. It’s his money, but the thought counts too.
“This is a great mall,” I say, carrying a school logo bag decorated with an embossed M.
“Bad girl,” she mocks me playfully. “Never call this a mall. It’s too middle-class.” Beth walks over to a rack of clothes and pulls a red XS polo off a hanger.
“That’s too small for me. I wear a medium.”
Beth looks at me as if I’m headed for kindergarten, not senior year. “You know you’re hot and thin, right? Wash it, then take it out of the dryer while it’s damp. And then let it dry on your body. With your perky boobs, you’ll look even hotter. And when you start fitting in, they’ll back off.”
“You think?”
“Trust me,” she says.
Again, Beth doesn’t look at me when she answers. I don’t like that. Her top is tight, yet she ate lunch on a bench beside me.
“If you don’t want to do that then buy some school polos, cut the patches off, and sew them onto your own clothes. Just make sure it’s the school colors. And for fuck’s sake, cut five inches off that skirt. You look like you’re wearing a camping tent.”
I frown because I don’t plan on wearing a DYI skirt with my unoriginal art skills.
“Look,” Beth says, “text your ride and tell them not to pick you up. I’ll drive you home after we do some real shopping.”
CHAPTER 4
LUCAS
“Making new friends?” suggests Arielle as we stand on the sports field watching intramural practice.
At the beginning of the school year, the athletic teams work out on the three fields behind the main campus. The fields take up as much space as the school buildings, and sports are as important as academics at Montlake. Grouping us together gives the captains a chance to see if any of the incoming freshmen have talent. After trials, we separate into individual teams, and my team heads to the rink.
When I don’t answer her, Arielle reaches over and brushes the hair out of my eyes. I need a haircut, and the wind isn’t helping, but, scowling, I lean away from her fingers. Arielle is a beautiful girl with a fantastic body. Long blonde hair, sky-blue ey
es, and slim curves … she’s the total package.
But she’s also a total bitch.
“What’s the matter with you, Lucas?” Her snippy tone makes me want to take off running. For a second, her top lip curls and her eyes narrow, then suddenly, Arielle remembers I’m the guy she’s dating. She laughs off the catty look and gives me a sexy pout, moving closer until our sides touch. I wish I could recruit her for ice hockey. Those nasty looks could freeze the rival players to the ice.
“What’s the matter with you, Arielle?” I scowl. “I haven’t seen you all summer, and you’re acting like we’re okay.”
“Not my fault. You didn’t want to travel.” She studies the action on the field with interest, avoiding my eyes. “I asked you to come with me.”