Deviant: Black Mountain Academy

by Dani René

  Even though Ahren lives close by, I haven’t told him the real reason I’ve come here. Being on my own has its privileges. I’ve enjoyed it, more than I care to admit. I’m able to work, doing something I love, and I’m able to enjoy the solace the town has offered.

  The residents of Black Mountain enjoy their privacy. They pay enough for the homes and school fees. So, instead of living in a bustling city, I now find myself in a small, quiet town where my plan will come together soon enough.

  And on top of that, I’m allowed the one thing I need to play out my revenge—seclusion. Soon, the rage that’s plagued me will come to an end, and I’ll be able to find the person I’ve been seeking for years.

  “Ah, Mr. Donati. I just wanted to let you know you have a new student joining today. She’s just moved to Black Mountain and will be finishing her senior year with us,” states the man who enters the room, interrupting my thoughts. I’ve heard the whispers from the girls in class about the principal. We’re about the same height, coming face to face, and I wonder just how he came to Black Mountain.

  Dawson has been good to me. He offered me a chance at starting over. I haven’t told him why I wanted this job or why I came to Black Mountain. Nobody needs to know that.

  “Mr. Dawson,” I greet, offering him my hand, which he accepts and we shake. Strong, confident, and commanding. That’s what my father used to tell me. It’s what he would say when he taught me how to be a man, but even in his teachings, he failed to educate me on just how life can go horribly wrong when you least expect it. “Good to hear that. I’m always happy to help new students who are interested in history. Do you have her file?”

  “Yes,” Dawson acknowledges as he hands over the folder, which I set on the desk to go through later. “Just keep in mind, she’s living with an aunt here in town,” he whispers, lowering his tone even though there are no other people around us. I have a free period before the last class of the day comes in, which has allowed me some quiet time. “We want to ensure she’s comfortable and no mention of her father who has passed on.”

  “That’s not a problem at all. I know how it feels to be in that situation, so I’ll be thoughtful when addressing her. Do you know what happened?” I ask, my brows furrowing in worry.

  “Her mother informed us that it was a home invasion. Quite scary if you ask me. That’s why I can never live in a city. Prefer the smaller town myself,” Dawson confesses with a deep, resounding tone. “If you need anything,” he cautions, lowering his tone further as the bell rings. “Like I said, my door is always open.”

  He shakes my hand once more before he disappears, and I’m left to ponder his words. The girl must be broken inside. Losing a parent isn’t easy, especially when you’re meant to be finishing your final year in school. Focus is imperative.

  I may only be thirty, which is probably considered old by most of my students, but I love what I do. I’ll ensure she studies hard and she passes her exams. A strict regimen will hopefully set her on the right path. And until I meet her, I can’t tell if she’ll be a handful or not.

  Hopefully, the latter.

  I’m a teacher first, and I’m not here to make friends, but I hope our mutual heartache will allow her to trust me. Last year was difficult. The students here are mostly wealthy brats who grew up with a silver spoon in their mouths. Since she hasn’t been a resident of Black Mountain for long, perhaps she’ll be different.

  At least, I hope she will.

  I pull out my cell phone, tapping out a message to a friend I’ve been seeing. We were meant to meet up tonight, but right now, the only thing I can think about is going home and spending the night alone to read through the details from my private investigator.

  Dating isn’t something I do. Women are there for a reason—to enjoy for an evening, and when the morning comes, they can leave without me worrying about getting myself into a relationship. Loneliness is something I’ve become accustomed to. Most times, it doesn’t bother me, but there are nights I feel it. Right down to my bones.

  Shaking my head to clear it of the worry, I grab the stack of papers and move around the class as I set them down on the desks. Today, we’ll be focusing on our first lesson of the year, where I’m able to get into the students’ minds.

  I’m sure they’ll be unhappy with getting a paper to write on their first day, but it will hopefully allow me to get into their minds and find out what makes them tick. Thankfully, Dawson has given me free reign on my subject, and I can teach in my own way.

  I promised myself I will keep myself busy while at work and only focus on finding my father’s murderer in my private time. And today is the day my plan slowly comes into play. I’ve come to Black Mountain for a reason. And I’ll make sure it’s not a wasted opportunity.

  Back at the front of the class, I take out the textbook and place it on my desk along with a notebook and a couple of pens. The register with the names of the students lies waiting for me, but I don’t pick it up. Not yet. I want to learn about them before I see their names. Something about judging people just by the family name doesn’t sit well with me. Even though it’s how I was raised, I never want to do it to my class.

  My father always made sure he knew who my friends were. Last names meant more to us than anything else. And loyalty was a currency we had to barter with, even if we hated each other. The rules we learned as children were so strict it felt as if we were imprisoned, but it was all our father could do to keep us safe.

  At college, things changed. I had moved away from being a Donati in Miami and instead became a student nobody knew. And Black Mountain has become a town I can find myself in. Where I can learn who I really am.

  The door creaks open as the loud, chattering students file into class, some still staring at phone screens, others focused on their friends, yet others rushing through the entrance to grab a desk of choice. Chastising myself for not having time to look at the folder, I shove it into my drawer for later.

  I move to the exit once everyone has seated themselves. I’m about to shut the door when a student crashes into me, slamming right into my chest. When I look down, I note how small she is. Delicate. Possibly five-five, which puts her chest height with me. Her hair is a golden blonde, like honey, hanging in waves down her back. Her head tips upward. Eyes the color of granite peek up at me from under long lashes.

  There’s a hint of makeup on her eyelids when she blinks, a soft blue. The winged liner that frames those orbs of gray makes her expression seem cat-like. But it’s her plump lips that capture my attention. They shimmer with pinpricks of glitter when she smiles shyly.

  “I-I’m s-sorry, I-I couldn’t find the class.” Her soft voice lures me into a net, and I step back as if she’s electrocuted me. What the fuck? “Mr. Donati? This is history, right?”

  Finding my voice, I grit out, “Yes, take a seat.” Familiarity hits me right in the chest because I have a feeling the folder in my drawer is all about her. I didn’t think she’d be in my class. Of all the fucking rooms in this school, she’s in mine.

  She lowers her head before scurrying into the room. The scent of her perfume lingers. A hint of strawberries catches my nose. I could inhale her fragrance all day and night. The realization catches me off guard, and I slam the door shut. The resounding thud brings instant silence in the room, and all eyes are on me.

  It’s what my father always wanted from us. I was taught from a young age that children must not be heard. Turning to face the class, I give them a moment to settle, books out, eyes locked on me at the front of the room.

  “I hope you’re all well versed in writing papers, because I have something for you today,” I tell them. “In this classroom, we will be talking about topics you may not be interested in, but you will be graded on your time spent in this room, on your papers you hand in, and the exams you write.” I turn, picking up a piece of chalk and do what I’ve seen teachers and professors do when they’re introducing themselves—I write my name in large, scrawled script on the
blackboard.

  Glancing at the class, I immediately seek her out. The walking disaster I’m drawn to. She’s tempting, taunting me with her innocent expression. Undeniable energy crackles through me, through the room. It’s as if she were the sun and I were Icarus, and at any moment, I would burst into flames from her heat.

  “For your first assignment,” I start, allowing a grin to grace my expression as the groans of annoyance rumble through the classroom. “I want you each to tell me why you think history is so important to the modern world. A short paper, two thousand words. And I want it done by tomorrow when you walk through that door.” I point at the entrance before pinning her with a steely glare. “On time.”

  A blush turns her cheeks bright pink, her lips purse into a pout, and her eyes shimmer. For a moment, I wonder if she’s going to cry, and the sadistic part of me wants nothing more than to see her sadness. I hunger to see her pain, but she squares her shoulders, holding her head high, refusing to cower under my glare as she regards me with indifference.

  I smirk at her bravery. The fire in her stare makes every nerve in my body ignite with the need to break her. Just like I planned. If she only knew who she was challenging.

  Focusing on the class, I state, “Now that you all know what your homework is, let’s begin.” Clapping my hands together, I flip open the textbook I studied over the past few weeks. Time to focus and stop myself from staring at the little disaster that is my new student.

  3

  Arabella

  His blue eyes pierce me like daggers straight to the chest. Time ticks by slowly as Mr. Donati teaches his lesson. His deep, gravelly tone sends warm shivers down my spine. He commands the room, and I watch his plump and perfect lips enunciate each word. I have a feeling one of my favorite subjects, history, will now be my most torturous. Not because I don’t think I can pass his class, but because the man is distracting.

  I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and he was a boy. Mr. Donati is a man. One far too old and out of my reach for me to even consider. But that doesn’t stop my mind from daydreaming about how his lips would feel against mine.

  If I were back home, I wouldn’t think twice about teasing him to the point of no return. But I promised my aunt I’d be good, I’d behave, because she’s giving me a second chance. I’m not in jail or some shit, and that’s something I am thankful for.

  By the time I’d turned sixteen, I was partying with friends, drinking, and even smoking the odd joint. I’m far from a good girl, and that’s why my parents wanted to send me away. My mother agreed to this move because she knew I was on a path of self-destruction.

  “Hi,” a whisper comes from beside me. “I’m Marleigh,” the girl with long, brown hair says while holding out her hand, and I’m thankful for the distraction from staring at our teacher.

  “I’m Arabella,” I tell her. “New here.”

  “I know.” She nods, a smile lighting up her face. “I figured. I haven’t seen you around before. Welcome to Black Mountain, the Academy with more hot guys than a reality TV show.”

  I can’t help but laugh at that. “Well, then it seems I’m in the right place.”

  “Definitely. Listen, if you need anything, like a BFF or something similar, my applications are currently wide open.” Her laugh is soft, but it’s infectious as she grins at me playfully.

  “Let me know where to sign up.” I offer her a smile. She’s the first person I’ve met so far who’s not been stuck up their own ass, and I hope that all the girls are like this. In my last school, the female population didn’t like me. I find it easier being one of the guys than on the cheer squad. But with a fresh start, I hope I’m able to find my own tribe of women.

  A crash against the wooden surface of Mr. Donati’s desk has me jumping in my seat before his voice follows. “Listen up, students, when you’re in my class,” Mr. Donati says with his seething gaze locked on me, slamming me right to the back of the chair. “I want your focus on me. On the blackboard. Not on your phone. Not on your friends. Am I understood?” He poses the question to the class, but he doesn’t look away.

  “Yes, sir,” I find myself responding as if he were shouting. I don’t even have my phone. Auntie Midge said to leave it at home so I can focus on my first day. Thankfully, I listened to her.

  “Now, when you think about history, I know most of you consider it old bullshit you don’t want to know about,” he informs us, earning a few gasps and sniggers from the students. I’m shocked as well. I’ve never had a teacher who was so open about cursing in his class. “For those who are new to my class, I run a tight ship, and I expect you to put the work in, but I do want you to learn when you’re in this room.”

  One of the girls a few desks over raises her hand. And for a moment, I think he’s going to ignore her, but instead, he nods toward her.

  “I’d like to know if you’re single, Mr. Donati,” she muses, a grin plastered on her face. Her long, blonde hair is pinned in a ponytail, and her perfectly manicured hands are folded on the desk as if she didn’t just flirt with our teacher.

  “My personal life has nothing to do with any of you,” Donati bites out. He doesn’t seem perturbed by her question, and I wonder briefly if he’s had students coming on to him before.

  “It’s a shame. I may need a date for the prom,” blondie tells him, teasing a pen over her plump, glossy lips. The rest of the class laughs, but I don’t. My fingers tighten around my pen, and my stomach drops at the thought of him with her. She’s the type of girl he’d go for if he were so inclined. She’s gorgeous with a perfect figure, and she looks like she could be a runway model.

  Whereas I try to play coy, unless there’s someone I want to impress. Or catch the attention of. I’ve spent my life being the center of attention, especially when it comes to guys. Most girls back home would call me a slut, and they did, for a long while. Where I’m from, shaming women for being into sex is one insult the girls loved to throw around if you weren’t shy to dress up.

  But right now, I’m thankful that we have to wear this god-awful uniform because I dressed it up—black skirt, the white shirt which fits a little too tight shows off the black bra I’m wearing underneath. The unwelcome noose of a tie which chokes me, along with the blazer sporting the school crest on the breast pocket. At least nobody truly stands out too much, and nobody can assume you’re trying to get attention, unless you’re me where I’ve intentionally shortened the skirt from the frumpy length to mid-thigh.

  “When you’re in my class, you will respect me. You will also focus on your schoolwork. So, Miss …?” he says, looking directly at blondie as he waits for her to tell him her name.

  “Oh, it’s Melody Vanderbilt,” she tells him. “But you can call me Melody, sir.” Her tone lowers into a seductive purr at the word sir. But with a glance at Mr. Donati, he doesn’t seem at all affected.

  “Miss Vanderbilt, I trust you’ll behave in my class. If not, you’re welcome to visit the principal’s office.” The cold tone of his voice sends a shiver down my spine, causing me to tremble. “And that goes for anyone else in my class. Here, we learn to be professional, to ensure that when we step out of this class into the big, shitty world beyond, we know how to conduct ourselves.”

  His gaze once again roves over the class, and I hold my breath. I can’t explain it, but I want his eyes on me. I’m sorely disappointed when he doesn’t even look my way. It’s stupid. I feel like a child, crushing on a man way out of my league.

  But that’s never stopped me before.

  And I have a feeling Mr. Donati will become my new favorite teacher.

  The sinking sun is still warm as I make my way home from my first day of school. Walking up the street from Black Mountain Academy in my short skirt and knee-high leggings causes attention to skitter my way. Ignoring the stares, the whispers, and the snickers from the other students, I make my way up the road.

  I haven’t been the new girl before, and it’s uncomfortable. Everyone seems to speak in hushed
tones when I walk past as I head up the hill toward the road which will take me to my aunt’s multi-million-dollar mansion.

  I grew up around wealth and false promises that were made to show off how perfect my family was. Nothing lasts forever—either it’s taken from you, or you die. Either way, I’m no longer holding onto hope, and I’m certainly not believing of people who offer promises and bullshit wrapped up in a neat little bow.

  Overnight, my life was flipped on its head when the cop cars pulled up to the house and they raided the party. I shouldn’t have been there, but I was. Caught on camera by a paparazzi asshole with my panties in hand, sandwiched between two of my best guy friends. It looked worse than it was.

  I stop for a moment to take in the academy from my viewpoint. It’s an impressive building for a high school. But, considering the annual fees to attend classes here, I’m not surprised. I watch students mill around the parking lot, all in cliques. They’ve clearly been friends their whole lives, and there I was, a girl new to the world they’ve grown up in.

  Being used to the city life is leaving me slightly jarred by the small town where everyone seems to know each other. Even though I grew up in the public eye, living in a city allowed me to disappear when I wanted it.

  Solace is a luxury that’s hard to come by. Most people pay a lot of money for it. It seems Black Mountain has decided to offer it to me on a silver platter.

  “Ara!” My name is screeched from behind me, causing me to spin on my heel. Marleigh, the girl from class, comes racing toward me. When we met in history, she seemed nice enough. I wasn’t expecting her to make good on her promise of being friends, but as she grins, racing toward me, I wonder if perhaps I was too quick to judge.

  Her sleek, brown hair shimmers in the slowly dying sunlight. “I wanted to see if you’d be up for a party this weekend.” She’s panting breathlessly as she reaches me. “I spoke to a few friends, and it’s going to be epic.”