by Cassie James
“Uhm, this can’t be right.” I set the paper back down and slide it back across the counter to him. Now he looks at me, eyebrows raised. “Is this supposed to be some kind of joke?” A woman at the desk in the corner hears my raised voice and looks up at me with a frown.
Slowly, the lady makes her way over. “Is there a problem here?” She takes the paper with my supposed schedule on it and looks it over. Clearly, she’s in on the joke because she forces me to take it back. “Tardiness isn’t tolerated here, even for new students.” She looks about as pleased to have me here as Jax Woods does.
“But this schedule isn’t right,” I try to explain, feeling flustered. I glance at Patrick, thinking he’ll back me up since he’s seen my transcripts. He’s staring at me with a blank look like he’s never seen me before in his life. It’s humiliating that I’m about to have to explain this in front of him, but I need someone to fix this. “I’ve never been in advanced classes before. I was barely passing at my old school.
“Yes, and Headmaster Dupont took that into consideration.” She eyes me with a take-no-shit look on her pinched face. “He also took into consideration you got a near perfect score on your PSAT and that all of your former teachers he spoke to agreed that your transcript reflected not your intelligence, but rather a lack of participation. The same will not be tolerated here.” She reaches under the counter for a stack of textbooks she sets down in front of me with a heavy thud. “Enjoy the advanced program, Miss Lexington. The deadline for schedule change requests has passed.”
Patrick, who’s been silent this whole time, has the nerve to smirk. If the school knew all that stuff about me, then there’s a pretty good chance Patrick saw that along with my transcripts. And he still insulted my intelligence anyway. I want so badly to slap the stupid smirk right off his face, but I can’t imagine getting expelled my first day would go over well with Pearl.
The two of them are both looking at me like they’re expecting me to keep complaining. I want to. Desperately. But it also feels like a trap that I’m not interested in walking into. Instead, I lay my schedule calmly on top of my new textbooks and pick up the whole stack. I don’t say a word as I leave the office, struggling to balance my books in one arm so that I can get the door open. The hallways are mostly empty now as another soft chime echos overhead. I look down at the first class on my schedule, U.S. History in room B18. I blow out a long, frustrated breath. I’m pretty sure I’m late and I still have no idea where I’m going.
Chapter 7
It turns out the B in B18 stands for floor B, The Patience School’s name for the second floor. Luckily, I happen upon a friendly custodian who explains this to me in enough time that I’m only a few minutes late to my first class. I’m feeling pretty lucky until I find the room number I’m looking for only to be greeted by a locked door. I can feel my cheeks catching fire as I knock.
Several excruciatingly slow seconds pass before a man in a full suit opens the door with a heavy frown marring his otherwise handsome face. The fact that he’s the hottest teacher I’ve ever seen in real life makes this so much worse. “You’re late.” Yeah, no shit.
“I had to pick my schedule up in the office.” And then aimlessly wandered the building until I managed to find one of the few friendly faces in this place to ask for help, but I leave that part out.
He sighs, opens the door slightly wider. “Take your seat, Miss Lexington.” I step into the classroom and there’s exactly one open desk. It’s in the back corner of the room. Right next to Jax Woods—because of course it is.
I try to ignore the way everyone stares as I lug my books to my desk, sliding into my seat as quietly as I can while Dr. Knight talks about his plans for us this semester. I don’t listen, because I honestly don’t care to hear the rundown of how this place is planning on torturing me for the next five months. I am crazy relieved that I wasn’t forced to do something stupid like introduce myself to everyone. I guess no one really thinks it’s necessary after Pearl’s party and the extensive local news coverage we’ve gotten.
I’ve tried to ignore all of that. I hate the way they plaster old yearbook photos of me up in between my two sets of parents. The ones that actually belonged to me, and the ones who had the nerve to think they were actually capable of raising a kid themselves. Every day I spend here makes me feel further away from the life they gave me. I haven’t texted Jake again yet, either. I keep opening up the phone Smith gave me, typing out a whole message to Jake that I never actually send. I know nothing I can say to him is going to make either of us feel any better right now. I’m in survival mode, and I can’t survive people like Jax if I let myself get caught up in all the twisty feelings I’m still having for Jake.
The redheaded girl sitting in front of Jax leans over to talk to the blonde sitting in front of me. “Oh my god, the new girl would make a great Belle, don’t you think?”
My back straightens at the same time the blonde girl’s does. Is this girl seriously whispering about me… right in front of me? I vaguely remember both of their faces, so I’m pretty sure I met them at Friday’s party, but I can’t remember anything else about either of them. Including their names. I was on name overload.
“What are you talking about?” The blonde’s voice squeaks so high I’m worried she’s going to strain a vocal cord or something. Dr. Knight glares in their direction, temporarily silencing her. When he moves on, she lowers her voice, but I can still hear their conversation clearly from where I’m sitting. And I’m pretty sure they must both know that. “I’m Belle. It’s already decided.”
“Yeah, but didn’t Irene say you needed an understudy?” The redhead’s mouth is curved into a wicked smile, like she’s thrilled to be single-handedly turning the girl next to her into a nervous wreck.
The blonde whips around and snatches my schedule off my desk. I stare open-mouthed as she does it, totally bewildered by what’s happening, and also not wanting to turn this into any more of a scene than it already is. I watch this chick mutter to herself as she reads down the length of my schedule and then checks the whole thing a second time. I can’t believe the teacher is apparently suddenly blind to what’s happening back here.
She lets out a majorly dramatic sigh of relief. “She’s not even in theatre, Kathryn.” To me, she says, “Sorry, I like, just had to make sure you weren’t going to try to steal my part. We’re doing Beauty and the Beast for the winter performance. I’m Belle. And I don’t need an understudy. I would never miss a performance. Not for anything.”
“Uh. Okay.” I don’t know why she’s telling me any of this. I honestly don’t care. I’m just relieved that slightly murdery look that was in her eye is gone now.
“I’m Cece.” She holds a limp wrist out to me. I stare at her dangling hand because it doesn’t look like she’s offering me a handshake but I’ll be damned if I’m going to kiss the back of this girl’s hand like she’s royalty.
“God, Cece, read the room.” The redhead reaches out and bats Cece’s hand away from me. “It’s such a shame you’re not doing theatre. We could have used another hot girl to balance out all the homely freshman that keep signing up.” She closed mouth smiles at me before putting her attention firmly back at the front of the room. Cece doesn’t say anything else, but she slinks down in her seat like a dog that’s been beaten. I feel bad for her, but it’s kind of a relief to have someone here besides Sadie being nice to me. I let myself revel in that for just a moment—until Jax ruins it.
He snorts just loud enough that I’m the only one that seems to hear it. I roll my eyes at his immaturity but I can’t help but take the bait. “What?” I lean in slightly to hear him better.
His eyes flash as I lean towards him, and I belatedly realize it probably looks like I’m thinking of planting one on him again. Not in this lifetime, buddy. He catches on pretty quick, but he still shifts even closer, putting himself firmly in what I’m not thinking of as the danger zone.
“That’s Kathryn Lassiter. And she’s only acting nice be
cause she’s terrified you’re going to waltz in here and steal her hard-earned—” he raises his fist to his mouth gestures a crude symbol for blowjob— “reign as queen bee. Everyone knows a Lexington outweighs a Lassiter.”
Everyone but me apparently. High school politics are weird. No wonder I never wanted to go to school. And here everything is amplified by one hundred. People here keep talking about our last names like there’s some magical quality to them. It’s nice, feeling like I have a legacy, but I could do without all this extra society crap that people keep pushing.
I sit back up in my seat, only to feel Jax kick the side of my chair a second later. “You’re supposed to say thank you when someone offers you helpful information.” I narrow my eyes at him. His eyes are teasing. He’s not being serious, he’s just trying to push my buttons.
“Oh, thanks. Let me offer some for you, too. You kiss like a dead fish, you should probably go home and practice on your pillow later.” I turn away, refusing to face him even when he kicks my chair a couple more times trying to force my attention back to him.
I’m lying through my teeth. He kisses fine. Better than fine. So far, the boys here kiss a hell of a lot better than the boys I’ve kissed in Nikon Park. But I’ll take whatever ammo I’ve got, and right now that isn’t much. Even a guy with as much ego as Jax Woods surely feels at least a little sting over an insult like that.
“Okay, now before the period ends, I want to go ahead and pair you off for your midterm projects.” Dr. Knight picks up a clipboard, his eyes scanning the page. I look up at the clock, surprised to see so much time has passed. Not that I’m complaining. “I’ll start at the end of the alphabet and work my way back. When I call your name, I want you to give me the name of the person you’d like to partner with.”
I groan internally. Nothing says social outcast like being the last person picked for kickball. Or in this case, for a history project. I’m at an obvious disadvantage here considering everyone else knows each other. I’m going to get stuck with whoever gets to pick last, and I can almost guarantee that person’s going to hate me for it.
“Yorke.” Dr. Knight looks to a girl on the other side of the room. She already looks bored with this class. She doesn’t even say anything out loud, just lazily points to the guy in front of her. “Yorke and Colby.” He makes a note on the paper, then skims to the next name.
“Woods?” He looks right at Jax, his pencil poised over the paper. I watch out of the corner of my eye as Jax leans back in his seat with a shit-eating grin. Kathryn tosses her red hair over her shoulder as she looks back at Jax. It’s obvious she wants him to pick her, but he’s not paying any attention to her. Instead, he turns and stares me.
“I’ll take Juliet.”
I’m so stunned that I freeze up instead of protesting, and Dr. Knight moves on to the next person.
I turn my head to look at Jax, who looks awfully damn proud of himself. “Why did you do that?” I ask quietly. There’s no way the two of us can work on a project together all semester without one of us killing the other. Why on earth would he think this was a good idea?
He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even acknowledge me. He’s giving me a taste of my own medicine now. It’s not like there’s anything I can do. I can’t imagine asking Dr. Knight to force someone to swap partners with me would make me any friends. Jax would just find some other way to mess with me anyway. He’s proving to be more relentless than I was anticipating.
When the bell chimes signaling the end of class, I stand and follow everyone else out the door. Jax lingers, probably waiting to see how I’m going to react, but I don’t. I’m not going to risk being late to another class.
I make it through my next two classes relatively unscathed. Algebra 2 makes my head spin, the material is far more advanced than what I was expected to do in my joke of a geometry class last year. My third class of the day, Psych, is actually interesting enough that I’m able to look past the fact that I share the class with Patrick. He sits on the opposite side of the room from me anyway. And okay, maybe I do notice when he spends most of the period flirting with the girl next to him.
Midday means it’s lunchtime for all the juniors. A mild feeling of doom settles over me as I trudge towards the cafeteria. I should have made plans to meet Sadie, but I lost my chance when she got pulled into the counseling office this morning. Now I have no idea if I’ll be able to find her or where I’ll sit otherwise.
I get in line to buy my lunch with everyone else. I even manage not to make a face when I discover the school food here looks like actual food, unlike the prison food I used to get at school. When I make my way out of line, tray in hand, there’s still no sign of Sadie anywhere. My eyes scan the room again, coming up almost empty until I see a familiar face at the back of the cafeteria.
I head off in that direction, relieved to see he’s sitting alone, which makes me feel a little less weird about approaching him like this. I walk around to the opposite side of the table but don’t sit right away. “Hi.”
Ace looks up, his eyes widening comically. “Hi.” For such a big, scary looking guy, he’s been nice to me both times we’ve interacted. That’s more than I can say for most people around here.
“Would you mind if I sat?” I point at the seat diagonal from him instead of the one directly in front of him. It’s less than a two foot difference, but I don’t feel quite as intrusive that way. It’s obvious he was comfortably eating lunch alone, and now for the second time I’m encroaching on his privacy.
He stands, points to the same seat I’m still pointing to. “Yeah, yes.” He clears his throat. “I don’t know why I stood up.” He sits back down at the same time I do. This is totally awkward.
“Hey, thanks for your help earlier. It was a weird morning.” That’s an understatement.
He nods slowly. “Yeah, I saw the picture.” He doesn’t look judgmental about it at all, but my cheeks heat anyway. “I saw the other thing, too.” I’m assuming he means my kiss with Jax. “Was that payback? You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to,” he adds quickly. Yep, he’s definitely asking about the kiss.
“It’s fine. Yeah, that was my idea of payback. I don’t know how well it actually worked but…” I shrug, trailing off. If Ace could see I was just trying to embarrass Jax, then maybe everyone else had guessed that too.
“I think it worked better than you realize, just not the way you meant it to. Here, look.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone like the one from Smith that I’ve been carrying around but barely using. Ace turns the screen towards me, a picture of my kiss with Jax at the top. I didn’t anticipate anyone getting a picture, dammit. My annoyance is short-lived when I realize someone’s posted the picture on some kind of website where other people are commenting.
“These are all from today?” There are several hundred comments already. As Ace holds the phone up, I carefully use my finger to scroll down the page. A few of them make me laugh, claiming Jax and I look like we make a good couple. But the ones that are pure gold are the ones where people are ranting that I’m out of his league. That he should be thanking me for slumming it. Along with a running theory that people are buying into that Jax made that poster because he was jealous of Smith. “Some of these comments are brutal.”
Ace shrugs one shoulder. “You’re not the first person Woods has antagonized.” He slides his phone back into his pocket. “He only gets away with it because his dad’s the governor.” I was about to take a bite of my food, but I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth. Surely I heard him wrong.
“His dad is the governor?” So many things make so much more sense now. Like no wonder Smith was so quick to step in between Sadie and Jax on Friday. Maybe I shouldn’t keep trying to provoke him. No wonder he thinks he can get away with anything—with a governor for a father he probably can.
“His dad’s a dick, too.” Ace smirks. “Runs in the family.”
“Juliet!” I’m a little disappointed to see Sadie hea
ded this way. “I looked everywhere for you.” She looks at the guy across me and seems surprised to see him there. “Hi, Asher.” He nods a greeting. It’s weird that she calls him Asher—I assume that’s his full first name—but that he introduced himself to me as Ace. Sadie draws my attention back. “We usually eat outside in the courtyard. There’s still a few minutes left, you wanna come join us?”
I consider it, but there’s only a few minutes left and I’m not sure I really want to trade my peaceful seat for whoever we is. My current lunch companion is also proving to be quite the wealth of information. “I’m okay, actually.”
Sadie’s eyebrows rise, and she glances suggestively in Ace’s direction. I roll my eyes at her. She’s got the wrong idea. Mostly. He is awfully hot with all those big muscles and his green eyes, which are framed by some of the most beautiful eyelashes I’ve ever seen in my life.
Oh fuck, am I staring? I blink hard and avert my eyes. It’s fine, no one noticed. I look back, Sadie’s smirking. Shit. She definitely noticed.
“Okay, well, I’ll see you fifth period. Patrick told me we’ve got Bio together.” Did he memorize my freaking schedule? “I’ll save you a seat.” She fingers waves goodbye and I wave back, trying to ignore the big exaggerated wink she sends my way.
I have this weird feeling. Like maybe she’s only being so suggestive about me and Ace because she’s worried about me and Smith. She did basically warn me away from her brother this morning. I know she hasn’t really given me a reason to doubt her intentions. But there’are still a lot of questions in the back of my mind. One, in particular.
“You’ve been really helpful.” I’m trying to think of how best to word my question. If I’m wrong to think of Ace as trustworthy, I don’t want this getting back to Sadie and coming off offensive. “Do you know much about, say, the dynamics between the families around here?”
He’s a big guy, so it’s impossible to miss the way he tenses. “Which ones?”