by Nicole Fox
“The floral dress is so cute on you.”
I spin around and see my mom standing in the doorway. She is petite—even shorter than I am—and has on a pair of cigarette trousers with a pale pink button-down tucked in. As far as moms go, she is fashion-forward and effortless. I kind of hate her.
“I can’t wear a dress on my first day. I’m not eight.”
“Dresses aren’t for eight-year-olds.” She plucks the dress from my bed and holds it over me, nodding as she stands back. “This is perfect.”
I grab the hanger and throw it back on the bed. It doesn’t matter what I wear because the kids at Ravenlake Prep are going to shun me regardless. But that shunning will be even more thorough if I show up looking like I just came from Easter Sunday Mass.
I glance at the clock next to my bed. “Shit!”
“Haley.” Mom frowns. “Language.”
“Sorry, but I’m going to be late.” I grab her shoulders and push her out of my room, closing the door in her face when she turns to try and talk to me.
“I can drive you today if you want,” she says through the door. “I thought maybe I could go inside with you and help you find the office. You don’t have a parking permit for your car yet, so you could get a ticket if you park in the lot.”
I pull on a pair of high-waisted jeans with large rips in the thighs and knees and yank a cropped white tank top over my head.
My mom seems to have a sixth sense for when I’m decent, because as soon as I’m covered, the door opens and she is leaning against the doorway again.
“And are you sure you have all of the books you need? I’ve never had to buy textbooks before. That was always something the school provided.”
“Perks of private,” I say, strapping on my favorite pair of leather sandals. “You have to pay for everything.”
“If you’d let me get a job, I could afford to pay for some things myself. Like clothes and lunches.”
“We aren’t worried about the money,” she says, cutting me off quickly. “Besides, you should focus on school. We all want things to be different this year. No distractions.”
I’ve been begging my parents all summer to let me get a part-time job. I need one. Badly.
John may have left me alone so far, but he never forgets a debt. Eventually, he’ll come to collect what I owe him.
And when he does, I’m going to be royally fucked.
“Things will be different here, right?” Mom asks softly, her eyes wide and angled down in nervousness.
She is speaking about John, but without saying his name. My parents like to pretend John didn’t exist. Like if they don’t speak of him, maybe he’ll simply go away.
Wishful thinking. I’ve been trying that since the day I ran screaming from John’s abusive clutches.
It hasn’t worked.
9
Haley
I hate being late. And running out the door of my house half-dressed with a Pop-Tart in my hand isn’t doing much to calm me down.
Add to that the fact that I’m headed to my first day of school at Ravenlake Academy, and you’ve got the recipe for a full-blown anxiety attack.
I don’t know where I’m going as I park at the ass end of the senior parking lot and race out of my car into what is hands down the creepiest school building of all time.
Before it was a school for the privileged and wealthy, Ravenlake Prep was a church.
Not just any church. A creepy-ass, Gothic church with tall black steeples that stand tall enough you can see them from almost anywhere in town. I half-expect to see the flaming eyeball from the Lord of the Rings movies glaring at me.
In fact, I’m so busy staring up at the roof that I don’t see anyone in front of me.
At least, not until I crash into them face-first.
Hands grip my bare upper arms to steady me. Strong, male hands.
I look up, prepared to apologize, when I see the literal last person I wanted to see.
Based on the set of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils, it doesn’t seem like I’m exactly brightening Caleb Wilson’s day, either.
“What in the hell are you doing?” he asks.
He’s still holding onto my shoulders. I can’t help but notice his cologne, too. Something cool and murky, if that’s even a thing.
I don’t know. I’m feeling very flustered all of the sudden.
So much for my plan to stay invisible.
In the dark on Saturday night, I wasn’t able to appreciate Caleb’s appearance up close. Whenever I’ve seen him at the fights, he’s sweaty and bloody, his light brown hair plastered to his forehead.
But now, he is coiffed and polished and smells like the rich, arrogant asshole that he is.
“I asked you a question, Cochran,” he rumbles.
Before I can say anything, I hear the faint sound of the bell ringing for homeroom.
A jolt of panic shoots through me. I try to squirm out of his grip. “Going to class. I’m late, so let me go.”
He grips me tighter. “You don’t go to school here.”
“Tell that to my homeroom teacher.” I wade through the inappropriate thoughts in my brain—most of which have to do with the way Caleb’s deft tongue snakes out and licks his lips—and search for my homeroom teacher’s name. “Mr. Perrin, I think? You can explain to him why I’m not in class right now.”
He presses his lips together into a flat line. They’re surprisingly beautiful for a man who spends most of his time punching other people in the mouth. I can see the tendons straining in his neck.
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” Caleb says again with a grim tone.
“I know,” I huff, finally tugging one of my shoulders free from his grip, though he keeps his other hand on me. I point to the school building. “I’m supposed to be in there.”
“You go to Public.”
“Used to,” I correct. “Now I’m here.”
It’s so easy for him to hold onto me. Caleb keeps control of my body like it is nothing, like it requires the barest possible effort.
I hate it. I’m so sick of being manhandled.
“You really aren’t joking.”
I gulp and nod. I’m working hard to maintain my sassy, I-don’t-give-a-fuck persona, but being this close to Caleb makes it hard.
Something about him being sends my whole body haywire.
“I never tell a lie,” I say in a lame attempt at a George Washington joke.
To literally no one’s surprise, he doesn’t laugh.
In fact, his face darkens. His brow furrows and a strand of hair falls over his forehead.
Instinctively, he reaches up and pushes it back into place, and I realize with a start that Caleb has painter’s hands. Pianist’s hands. He has the long fingers of an artist.
Meant for creating. Not destroying.
Though, the small white cuts all over his knuckles tell a different story entirely.
I shake my head to clear away the thought, even as I take another deep breath and accidentally inhale his scent.
Before I can even put the plan together in my head, I realize I’m babbling out loud. “Look. We started out on the wrong foot, okay? Let’s just … be friends.”
His eyes widen, and we both seem to realize at the same time that is never going to happen.
“Or, you know, acquaintances,” I amend. “We are two people who know one another from the underground fights and when we run into each other in the hallway, we—”
The hand on my arm tightens, his fingers digging into my flesh. “We don’t speak a word.”
There are other students in the lot, people moving slowly towards the building, not at all worried about being late on the first day of school. Not one of them looks over at the scene Caleb is causing.
Either this behavior is normal enough that they know not to interfere, or Caleb’s reputation scares them all into silence.
Either way, it’s obvious no one is going to step up and defend me.
On
ce again, I’m on my own.
In what I think is a quick move, I bat an arm at his elbow, trying to break his grip, but his other hand snatches my wrist and pins it to my side easily.
He isn’t even out of breath, whereas my chest is heaving like I’ve just gone for a run.
“What—?”
Before I can voice anything else, Caleb is in my space. His face is an inch from mine. His warm, even breaths wash over my face. Minty.
“You don’t know me, get it? We don’t speak or interact. And you sure as hell aren’t going to mention the fights. Do you understand?”
No. Not at all. Not even a little bit.
His hold tightens, and I feel his hips brush over mine. A strange warmth moves through me, and I try to press it down, like smothering a fire that is quickly growing out of control.
“Let go of me,” I respond, desperate to get away from him. Fear and heat swirl in my belly until I feel nauseous, dizzy.
Bad thoughts bubble up, too.
Levi forcing me against the brick wall.
John dragging me around by my arm and, occasionally, my hair.
The Hell Princes laughing. Watching. Letting them do whatever they want to me.
That and more flickers across my vision like a very old, very bad movie.
I’m sick of being weak and small. Of being touched and directed and intimidated.
“Not until you tell me you understand,” Caleb breathes, breaking me out of my thoughts. “We don’t know one another, and you aren’t going to speak of the fights. Or I will make your life very, very unpleasant.”
Caleb has been fighting in the underground for two years. He isn’t new to the scene. It’s not like he’s a luchador fighting in a mask. Everyone there knows him.
Then it hits me.
Everyone there knows him.
“Everyone” being Hell Princes, kids from Public, and people from the next county over.
Now that I really think about it, I can count on one finger how many people from Ravenlake Prep have ever been to a fight.
No one at this school knows Caleb is a fighter.
Somehow, he has kept that huge part of his life a secret.
Anow here I am, a collision of his normal life and his secret life.
“Do you understand?” he growls, lip pulled back in a sneer.
“Yeah, I understand.” I can’t help it. I smile.
His brown eyes narrow in confusion, but his hold on my arm loosens. “Good.” He starts to turn away.
I clear my throat.
“I understand that you don’t want anyone here to know about you fighting for money. I understand that, for some reason, it’s a secret you don’t want getting out.”
Fire burns behind his brown eyes, the streaks of gold growing more obvious. The bright Texas morning cuts a sharp line across his face, hollowing out his cheeks.
One subtle movement is all it takes for his appearance to shift from beautiful to menacing.
“Don’t fuck with me, Cochran. I promise you’ll regret it.” His voice is a low growl that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I know Caleb could hurt me right now. He could toss me around however he wanted. In a second, I could be pinned to the pavement, helpless and begging.
And that is the fucking problem.
I can’t defend myself. Against Caleb or Levi or John.
For so long, I’ve been a scared victim, relying on the strength of other people to protect me, and I can’t do it anymore.
“Teach me to fight.”
The crushing clench of his jaw never lessens, but his brows dip lower, confused. “Excuse me?”
The plan is still a half-formed thing in my mind, but it feels like a good idea, so I repeat it. “Teach me to fight—to defend myself—and I won’t tell anyone about the underground.”
Something remarkably similar to amusement flickers over his face. “You want me to teach you to fight?”
I nod, but before I can say anything else, he barks out a humorless laugh.
“Go sign up for a fucking karate class. I’m not your sensei.”
“I don’t want to fight like that,” I say. “I don’t want rules and regulations, and I don’t have years to become a black belt. I want to know how to street fight. The way you do.”
“Not a fucking chance. Now get out of here before I change my mind on letting you go.”
“Why not?” I hate how much I sound like a whiny little kid. “It’s a fair deal. You teach me to fight, and I’ll stay quiet about—”
Suddenly, my arm is twisted behind my back, and I yelp in surprise.
“You’ll stay quiet about me regardless,” he warns, his lips a hairbreadth away from mine. “In fact, you are going to stay far away from me and keep your mouth shut. If you don’t, I’ll make your life a living hell.”
I strain forward as far as I can with one of my arms twisted behind my back. For a second, I think our lips brush.
Caleb jerks back like I’ve burned him. He drops my arm.
I rub at my shoulder, wincing. In a low whisper, I add, “You’re too late. My life is already hell.”
Finally, Caleb lets go of me. His gaze trails angrily down my body before meeting my eyes again. He lifts a finger in warning as he backs away towards the building.
“Just keep your fucking mouth shut, Cochran. I won’t warn you again.”
Then he’s gone.
I’m left alone in the parking lot. Five minutes into day one at Ravenlake and that just happened.
This might be a very long school year.
10
Haley
“We have a problem.”
Aside from teachers eager to make me feel welcome, no one speaks to me all day. They speak about me and around me, close enough that I hear every opinion they have about “that new Public bitch, the one with the biker ex.”
But never directly to me.
I want to tell them John is my ex-boyfriend. But I don’t owe any of these people an explanation.
They aren’t asking for one, anyway. These rich kids are looking for a reason to hate me.
I’d rather them decide to hate me because of who I used to date than anything else. Seems less hurtful than hating me for my personality.
Now, however, a girl is talking directly to me. Full eye contact and everything.
I blink and lean back, a hand on my chest. “Sorry. What?”
When the final bell rang for the day, I practically sprinted out of class and to my locker, desperate to hurl myself in my car and drive away.
I’d go anywhere. I don’t care where. Home, the mall, Antarctica—they’re all tempting options.
I just want loud music and enough distance between me and this hellish school that I can’t see the spires looming over everything.
I want to forget this place exists for a few hours …
Until I have to come back and do it all over again tomorrow.
“I said, ‘We have a problem.’” The girl flips a smooth lock of golden blonde hair over her shoulder and licks her lower lip. She’s absurdly pretty. If someone told me she was a Barbie doll come to life, I wouldn’t doubt it for a second.
I slam my locker shut and wince when a few pieces of my messy hair get stuck in the hinge. My hair is constantly getting stuck in car doors and zippers, so I’m used to it, but my face still warms with embarrassment.
I tug my head and feel the strands rip from my scalp. “What problem would that be?”
Her sculpted brows pinch. “You don’t belong here.”
God, has this girl been talking to Caleb? If not, they have a lot in common. Like, the exact same kind of stick jammed up their ass.
I note that she is exactly the kind of girl I can imagine Caleb dating, and then ignore the strange stab of jealousy in my chest.
The idea doesn’t upset me because I like Caleb. But because I wish, just for a second, I could belong in a place like this.
Or, at the very least, blend into the
background.
I wish everyone could forget that I wasn’t born into this world and could just … accept me.
Even at Public, I didn’t fit in. John made sure of that. He didn’t want me to have friends or allies.
He just wanted me to belong to him and only him.
Mission accomplished.
“Take it up with the front desk,” I sigh. “If there’s been a problem with my transfer paperwork, let me know.”
I move to step around the girl, but she follows my movements.
That is when I notice two other girls standing at the end of the row of lockers, shadowing their friend.
“I’m not ready to be cast in a remake of Mean Girls, so I’m going to need you to give me some space.”
I wave a hand for her to back up, but she quickly swats my hand out of the air with a stinging slap.
“You don’t order me around, bitch.”
Unlike this morning in the parking lot where all eyes were averted, I can feel people gawking at us.
Where are the teachers in this place?
At my old school, there were security guards and school resource officers stationed in every hallway, ready to jump into action at the first sign of trouble.
Apparently, they think rich teenagers aren’t as bloodthirsty as poor ones.
Idiots.
“Remind me who you are?” I ask sarcastically.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I roll my eyes, trying my best to look bored even as my heart thumps in my chest. “Jesus. Okay, fine. Please just say your piece so I can go.”
“Off to bang a Hell Prince?” she says in a mock whisper. “Or maybe someone else? Rumor is you had to fuck your way into this school. Either that or your mom did it for you. Maybe a three-way?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Ew. What’s wrong with you? Do you have some kind of mommy fetish? Who would have a three-way with their own mom?”
Her green eyes sharpen, but she shrugs easily, like she isn’t bothered by my response at all. “You do have a face only a mother could love.”
I pull my mouth into a flat smile. “Well, gee, this has been fun. Thanks for the warm welcome. Lovely to meet you.”