by Nora Cobb
While Professor Getz is busy at the board, I stretch my arms overhead and turn slightly to the side. I know what I’m doing to Bryce. I arch my back, pushing my breasts against the ridiculous button-down shirt that gaps like crooked teeth. I don’t look at him as I sweep my arm quickly down and grab the note off the floor. Cell phones in class are strictly forbidden, so passing notes is like playing chicken. How quick or clever are you without getting caught? Well, no one is going to catch me.
I unfold it on my lap and read it. Pay attention, dumbass.
Fuck him, the little jerk. I twist the paper in my hands while keeping my gaze front and center. If I didn’t need Bryce Shelton, I’d kick his ass.
“Ms. Bowen.” Professor Getz stands at the front of the row, eyeing me impassively. I tuck the note under my thigh as my heart races. Funny and odd. Hardly anything scares me at the Pit, but this small man with the balding head just put a hard lump in my throat. And all he had to do was call my name.
“Yes, Professor Getz?” My voice sounds soft and airy, and I hate myself for showing weakness.
“Please explain to the class what economics is based on.”
I bite my lips together as my brain starts running away toward the deep end. I haul it back fast. It can’t desert me now. I glance at Professor Getz, and he has a slight smile on his face that I can’t decipher. Is he setting me up? Or am I being paranoid? No, people learn in this school, so he wants to hear my answer. I take a deep breath, knowing that any answer is better than no response.
“It’s based on people’s actions and reactions when goods and services are made, delivered, and bought.”
Professor Getz nods his head thoughtfully. “Close enough. It is a social science based on the allocation of resources.” He looks at me again as my muscles go limp in my seat. “It is based on people, not money. Very good, Astrid.”
My eyes widen for a moment, but I shut that shit down fast. The last time a teacher told me I had done well was in the second grade, and that’s when I was still going to a decent school. The teachers didn’t spend the whole class period shouting at the rotten kids, so we actually had time to learn. Another note hits the back of my calf, but I ignore it. Bryce can be a dick on his own time. It happens again, and I ignore it again. He doesn’t care about class. Why should he? He has his trust fund.
I can’t let money decide my actions, but Bryce already owns me. Glancing over my shoulder, I give Bryce a look that would’ve turned a smart man to stone. He scowls back at me and then glances down at the note by my heel, motioning with his eyes for me to pick it up. Let it rot. Why risk getting yelled at for some prissy boy that doesn’t know how to flirt?
It’s not even about that. Sitting up straight, I cross my arms over my chest and direct all my attention to the board. Professor Getz deserves respect because he’s teaching me something I need to learn. Besides, boys at Monarch don’t tease—they take. Not like this Stonehaven blue-ball crap.
The alarm on Professor Getz’s phone chimes, and he checks his watch. “Class dismissed.”
My curiosity makes me hesitate, and my knees tremble as I debate whether I should pick up the notes. Bryce starts walking past me and then abruptly sits down in the now-vacant seat in front of me. Prof Getz grabs his leather messenger bag and then stops to eye us. Bryce’s tie is undone, and his collar is open. He could get written up for that. His hair is a mess, as if he’s forgotten his product. Bryce leans back and crosses his foot over his knee, refusing to look at Professor Getz, who shakes his head.
“She is pretty, isn’t she? Mr. Shelton.” And then Getz walks out of the room.
My knee is bouncing wildly, but Bryce remains silent and aloof as he watches me tremble. I cross my legs. “What do you want to tell me?”
He stares at the notes by my feet. So, he wants to play games? Bryce left a nasty mark on my thigh after he warned me that I better listen to him. I’m not letting him trample all over me whenever he has a whim to do it.
“Why don’t you find someone else to get off on?”
Bryce grabs my wrist and twists it until my arm is pinned to the desk. I wasn’t prepared and that’s my stupidity. My cheek is pressed against the hard plastic surface, and I try to get him off me. The crazy fuck doesn’t care that the door is wide open, and we can be seen by anybody passing by. I try to get him off me, but it’s useless. He just tightens his grip.
“I shouldn’t have to tell you to pick up a note.”
“Fuck you, and let me go.”
He shakes me again, pressing me harder. I’m pinned until he decides to let me up. And when he does, I don’t care what he expects. I will kick his ass.
A kid walks into the classroom for the next class. He stops and stares at me like I’m the one doing something wrong. He hesitates as if he should do something. My breath is ramping up and I glare at the kid. He needs to mind his own fucking business.
“Get out,” hisses Bryce.
The kid stammers as he backs up and then takes off down the hallway. Bryce isn’t that stupid; he knows someone is going to say something. Gradually, he lets me go, but I sense his hostility. He’ll be on me again if I try anything.
I pick up the note.
First, I give him a dirty look, as if that’s going to do anything. And then I bend down and pick up one note. I unfold it.
Stacks. After school. No excuses.
I ball it up and chuck it across the room. Bryce watches me and waits for my reaction. He knows I’m going to have one. But I sit quietly and glare at him. The scrawny kid appears at the door. And points at us. I shake my head at the unnecessary hysterics.
“That shit happened all the time at my old school. It’s what happens after school that counts.”
“You will not ignore me again.”
I scoff at his threat. “Five hundred doesn’t buy a lot.” I’m not shaking anymore when I stand up from my desk. I straighten my corny shirt, and with my back to him, I run my hands down over my skirt, making sure there are no creases as I slowly run my hands over my ass.
The scrawny kid is hyped up and pointing when the teacher walks into the room. “Them,” he says.
I breeze past, ignoring that shit as I step out into the hallway. I’m not squealing to a teacher. That wouldn’t fly at my old school, and I know it won’t fly here.
Chapter 15
Astrid
I place my phone under my notebook and watch the time wind down. Three o’clock finally flashes on my phone, but we have to wait to be dismissed. The whole week, Bryce and I have met in the stacks, and the entire time, he’s been trying to get into my panties.
At my old school, girls don’t tease boys unless they plan to back it up, but at Stonehaven, I guess the frustration gets them off.
With raised brows, Roni watches me while I take a pair of scissors to my school skirt. “You could take that to a tailor.”
I shake my head. “I’ve got duct tape.”
She rubs her eyes with the palms of her hands. “The things you do.” She watches as I pull my skirt back on, checking the evenness of the hem. “You know when you wash it, the tape will come off.”
I scoff. “I’ll worry about it later. I have to go study.”
Roni laughs. “I’m not that dumb. You think rich girls don’t ho? If I had known what you were up to, I would’ve told you to roll the waistband.”
I look at the scrap of fabric on the floor and then at the crooked hem. Maybe this isn’t going to work, but I don’t have time to do anything about it now.
“I can get away with it.”
Roni looks at my legs and sighs. “You can, and every girl in the dorm will probably cut her skirt by the end of the week.”
I take off for Stonier, marching quickly past the stares. My skirt does look jacked up, but it will suit my plan. When I get off the elevator on the fourth floor, I don’t see Bryce waiting. I walk slowly on my tippy toes and stretch my neck, peeking down the stacks for him. Something brushes against my leg. Probably a st
ray thread from my skirt. But when it happens again, I turn and look. Bryce is standing behind me.
“Fuck,” I hiss. “Why don’t you make any noise?”
He smiles crookedly. “Rich people touch the floor gently. Remember that.”
I frown at him, not sure if he’s joking or if it’s true. He eyes my skirt with interest, but I can’t tell if it’s good or bad. He looks over his shoulder, but no one is going to be there. It turns out that students can request a book from the stacks and have it left at the desk for pick-up. The only time people go into the stacks is when they can’t wait.
Bryce looks as if he can’t wait.
“Follow me,” he whispers.
The stacks aren’t well lit. Every other row has cheap fluorescent lights, and the alternating rows are without. It’s bright enough to read the bindings but not much else. It’s not enough light to sit down on the floor and read. Bryce walks down a dimly lit stack farthest from the elevator. I watch him move with a confidence that’s sexier than bulky muscles, but he also has strength in his powerful build. I follow him until he turns quickly, boxing me into a corner.
Bryce looks down at my legs as his hand reaches out and touches my thigh. I shiver instantly as his fingers move slowly over my skin. Bryce is an asshole, but he hasn’t turned me off completely. Wyatt may be able to fight, but I’m sensing who’s in charge.
He leans in closer until his lips are near my ear. “What color panties are you wearing? Are they white?”
I laugh and let his hand move up another inch. “Is this today’s lesson? Is this how rich boys seduce rich girls?”
“You’re not rich,” he sneers, “I have no intention of waiting until I meet your parents.”
I smack his hand away. “Being poor doesn’t make me easy. There’s nothing easy about it.”
“There’s nothing easy about you. I wouldn’t waste my time trying if you were. Is that what you think? I fuck and dump? I plan to hold onto you, Astrid.”
Bryce leans in, his eyelids lowering, but I still don’t trust him. He’s too calculating, like he’s memorized a script, and everything he does is deliberate. I watch his lips, and my heart starts to pound despite what I may think. My body knows this boy is hot. I’ve seen that body in nothing but a towel, and I’m curious enough to want to see the rest. I waver as he leans in.
“Come on, baby,” he whispers, his hand brushes my cheek. “We’re wasting time. I want to teach you other things.” His hand lowers, and he brushes my breast. Fuck. I feel that chill start in my heels and fly up past my head.
I back away. “I can’t.”
He shakes his head. “But that’s not what you’re thinking.”
This sweet talk is twisting my ego and knotting my stomach. To have a rich boy falling over me is an enormous social deal. I see the way the other girls look at Bryce while I try to ignore him. But he’s too hungry, too thirsty for this to happen. He can use me to fight, but I won’t let him use me for sex.
I shove Bryce away with both hands, and he almost loses his balance, ending up on the hard floor.
“No, and I mean it. This isn’t a part of our deal. And I’m not going to let it be. What if you get all you want, and I’m worse off than when we started?”
Bryce looks down his nose at me. “Fine,” he says. “In a way, you’re right. Mixing business with pleasure always leads to ruin. Carelessness.” He smiles. “And disgrace.”
He glances at my skirt, and I feel stupid for even trying to lead him on. I don’t have the rules I need for Stonehaven, and until I do, he’s going to keep trying until I say yes.
I shift uncomfortably and then toss my head. “So, what are you teaching me today?”
He smirks. “How to bullshit for success.”
Chapter 16
Astrid
The following week, life seems a little easier, but that’s when shit happens. Your guard slips, then shit scatters, and you don’t have time to duck. But it isn’t aimed at me this time. Rhetoric is the class I’m lost in. I have nothing to fall back on, unlike my other subjects, where I’ve had some exposure, even if it isn’t impressive.
I spend my free period in study hall, actually studying, and there are people there that actually help students study. That blonde girl, Charlotte, sits at a circular table with another girl from our dorm. They dress like a matching salt and pepper set—alike but not the same. She glances over as I walk in and does this thing with her tiny nose. She wrinkles it and then starts talking to her friend again. As long as she doesn’t start with me.
Rhetoric doesn’t start for five more minutes, so I take out my textbook and read ahead. Professor Harmon sees me with my book open, and we end up taking a pop quiz. Maybe she assumes I didn’t do the reading, and I think the other kids will be pissed if they figure out why. But no one moans or groans. They put their stuff away and quietly take the quiz. I think I’m in the clear until Justin pokes me in the back.
Professor Harmon lifts her eyebrows in unison when I hand her my quiz. I’m one of the first to finish. She doesn’t wait for me to leave her desk and starts checking the answers. I return to my desk, and she looks up slightly, frowning. She makes a few marks on my paper, and then we wait for the rest of the class to finish.
I look around and accidentally make eye contact with Charlotte. She makes that face that’s not too nasty, but it isn’t nice. It’s like she’s trying to figure out something, and that something is me. Maybe I’m paranoid, but I don’t think I am. I turn all the way around and put my forehead on the desk until class starts. Luckily, I don’t nod off.
“I’d like for two students to volunteer to come up to the front of the classroom.” Here we go. This woman loves to make us stand up. Professor Harmon scans the class with her eagle eyes and briefly passes over me. I don’t dare make eye contact and stare at my hands.
Professor Harmon sighs in exasperation. “Whoever volunteers will have their lowest grade dropped at the end of the term.”
The hands fly up like we’re in a stadium doing an old-time wave. I keep my hand down, but kids have their arms straight in the air like they’re trying to touch the ceiling. I’ve never seen this crazy shit before.
“Justin and Pierce,” she calls out. They go to the front and stand on either side of her desk. “The topic will be the future of college education. Is it better to invest the money in a career, or is there value in attending a traditional university?”
I’m not going to college, even if it were free. I can’t afford it, despite what Mom hopes we can do to salvage my life. The minute I leave Stonehaven, I’m going to start earning money like a rich bitch so I can tell my father to go blow up his hole.
Someone moans but swallows it when Harmon scans the class. “Justin,” she continues, “you will argue for a career, and Pierce, you will argue for higher education.” Pierce smiles like it’s an inside joke while Justin stares bleakly at the floor.
Justin has this soft look that makes you think he’s intense and sensitive. But with that long blond hair, he’d have gotten his ass beat regularly at Monarch. Still, he’s seriously attractive, and some tough girl would’ve had pity on him and made him carry her purse.
Pierce, on the other hand, was built for a fight club. His body is shaped like a capital T. Broad shoulders, slim hips, and you can tell he’s put together by the way his freaking school jacket stretches across his back. I wonder if he can bust the seams. Unfortunately, Pierce spends no time developing a personality. He might look sexed-up, but when he opens that mouth and speaks, I cringe.
Pierce glares at me, and I have no idea what they’ve been saying.
“School allows a person to earn contacts through merit and intelligence.” Pierce looks right at me, and I roll my eyes. “A worthwhile reputation determines the quality of one’s connections.” He eyes Justin, whose cheeks are burning red. “A person should develop relationships with his or her peers through good conduct and trust.”
“Connections?” scoffs Justin.
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“It’s not your turn to speak,” cautions Harmon.
But Justin ignores her. “Connections are determined before we arrive. Bragging about who one knows doesn’t mean one actually knows them.”
“Maybe one no longer wants the association,” snipes Pierce.
“Boys.”
Pierce scoffs, ignoring Harmon. “A questionable reputation will turn a person into a beggar.”
“Or a loudmouth,” replies Justin.