by R. A. Smyth
My gaze sweeps to the guy beside him. He’s built like a fucking tank. At over six and a half feet tall and built like an MMA fighter, he’s easily double the size of every other student around us. Similarly to the first guy, everything about him screams unapproachable. His features look like stone, with his sharp, angular jaw, high cheekbones, and icy glare. A few loose strands of his dark brown hair fall forward into his eye, somehow only adding to the fierce image he’s working. I can feel my mouth going dry as I drink him in, before I quickly glance away.
The third guy is the complete opposite of the first two. His black tie hangs loosely around his neck, the top button of his shirt undone. His blazer is nowhere to be seen, and where the first two guys don’t bother to pay attention to anyone around them, he constantly nods his head at guys as they call out ‘hellos’, sending flirty looks to the girls. He’s got a tall, lean, swimmer’s body, built for speed and agility, and short yet stylish blond hair.
He catches me staring at him as he lifts his hand, running his fingers through his short strands. His eyes drop down my body, a salacious grin spreading across his face as he lifts his eyes back up to my face, giving me a dirty wink that I’d love to say doesn't affect me, but damn, I’m as much of a sucker for that wink as every other girl around here seems to be.
Embarrassed by the sudden racing of my heart and the heat in my cheeks, I quickly move on to the final guy in the group. Again, he’s completely different from the first three. I can immediately tell he’s the shy, quiet, studious one. He’s got dark floppy hair that’s hiding his face from my view, but as he flicks it out of the way, I can see that he’s got a broad jaw and sharp features. He’s wearing thick black-rimmed glasses, giving him, combined with his meticulous uniform, the overall appearance of a nerd. But on his lean, slightly muscular frame, it looks super hot, like Superman before he puts on his cape.
His hand flattens over his shirt, ironing out invisible creases before his head snaps up, his intense gaze meeting mine, having apparently sensed me watching him. Unlike the flirty look the last guy gave me, his is filled with uninterest, his lips pinching together in what looks like disapproval. What an ass. We can’t all have perfectly ironed uniforms and look like gods.
The noise filters back in around me as the four of them disappear into the auditorium. With them no longer occupying my every thought, I realize I’ve been standing in the middle of the courtyard gaping at them. Talk about embarrassing.
Glancing out of the corner of my eye to see if Bianca, or anyone else, noticed my moment of distraction, I find her still drooling after the guys. At least I wasn’t the only one who lost some common sense in their presence.
“Who are they?”
Damn girl, get your inner slut under control, I mentally berate myself when my voice comes out all husky.
Bianca must pick up on it too as she spins toward me, her eyes narrowing. “Out of your league,” she snaps before storming off, following them into the auditorium.
I cast a quick glance around me and see that most of the students have also disappeared. Not knowing what else to do, I quickly scramble after Bianca, trying not to lose her in the sea of students.
Passing through the large double doors into the hall, it takes a second for my eyes to adjust after the brightness of the California sun outside, but after a few quick blinks, the room comes into focus. There's a large, empty stage at the front of the room, with a podium off to one side. The rest of the space is taken up with wooden pews that are slowly filling with students. You’d think such a fancy school could afford something comfier than wooden seats.
Spotting Bianca making her way toward a crowd of rich girls, I follow her. I don’t particularly want to sit with her and her friends, but it’s not like I know anyone else. I’m just about to slide inconspicuously into the last seat in the pew when Bianca glances up, noticing me.
“No. You don’t sit with us,” she snarks, her outburst garnering the attention of her friends, who all sneer at me. They don’t even fucking know me. “Scholarship students sit at the front,” she snootily states, pointing to the front of the hall.
Whatever. Like I said, I didn’t want to sit with them anyway. I guess our ‘tour’ is officially over.
“Oh, and Henry,” she calls after me, deliberately butchering my name. I turn around to glare at her, my teeth gritted. She’s wearing a sickly sweet smile, which morphs into a superior smirk when she sees she has my attention. “Welcome to Pac Prep.”
Rolling my eyes at her cattiness, I ignore the other students whispering around me as I storm down the aisle, slipping into an empty seat in the first pew as the headmaster steps up to the podium.
He casts his eyes over the room, taking his time to survey us, before leaning into the microphone. “Quiet down, students.” His booming voice echoes out across the large space, everyone quickly settling into a hush, focused on the front of the room. “For all of our new students, I am Mr. Phister, your headmaster.”
Mr. Phister? For real? Glancing around me, I notice a few other students holding back a laugh.
“Welcome to the start of a new school year! I’m sure all of our returning students will make our new pupils feel welcome and help them adjust to life here at Pacific Preparatory.”
Hmm, I somehow doubt that based on the less than stellar welcome I got this morning.
“You must be a new scholarship student,” the girl beside me leans over and whispers, pulling my attention from the drivel coming out of the headmaster's mouth.
“That obvious?” I ask rhetorically, taking in the girl beside me. She’s got short, black hair pulled back in a functional ponytail, and an innocent-looking face—or maybe it just looks that way because she doesn’t have layer upon layer of makeup caking her face, like every other teenage girl around here.
It suddenly makes sense how Bianca knew I was a scholarship student. We just don’t look like the other kids at Pacific Prep. Our hair doesn’t have that same glow, and our skin doesn't look like it’s been moisturized to within an inch of its life.
I guess that’s what happens when you don’t have unlimited money to spend on haircare and beauty products.
The girl smiles back at me, showing me her slightly crooked teeth. It’s a real, genuine smile, nothing like the fake, cosmetically enhanced ones Bianca’s friends wore.
“Are you a senior?” she whispers.
“Yeah.”
“I’m Emilia. Stick with me, girl. I’ll show you the ropes.”
Chapter 2
After what felt like a never-ending assembly, the headmaster reiterating the rules and reminding us of what he expects from us this year, he finally let us go.
“Ugh, thank god that’s over!” Emilia groans as we get to our feet, the auditorium erupting into a cacophony of noise as conversations start up again and students make their way toward the exit. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
“Thanks.” I give her a grateful smile as we make our way back out of the auditorium, relieved I’m rid of Bianca and to have an actual guide to give me the lay of the land.
Once we step out into the blinding sun, Emilia turns around to the other students that were in the pew. There’s six of them in total—four boys and two other girls. “We’ll catch up with you guys in a bit,” she calls out.
Two of them mumble a goodbye while eyeing me warily as Emilia turns back to me with an excited grin on her face.
“Okay, so this is the main school building, obviously,” she explains, waving toward the large building I met Bianca in. “The music department is over there, and the admin building is behind it,” she points at a large rectangular building off to my left before tugging on my arm and taking off in the opposite direction. “Who was supposed to be your guide?”
“Bianca,” I deadpan, giving her a look that says everything about how great an introduction to Pac Prep that was.
“Ha,” the caustic bark erupts from her, “I bet that went well.”
The main buildi
ng is behind us as we head down one of the various paths. Off to my left is a dense-looking forest, with grass lawns to my right all the way down to an extensive-looking sports complex at the far end of the campus.
Pointing to a large structure up ahead, Emilia explains, “That’s the library. It’s open pretty much twenty-four seven. There’s also a computer suite in the main building where you can go to do work or print stuff off, although no-one ever really needs to print anything here. You’ll have a tablet in your room where the teachers upload their worksheets for each lesson and you just fill them in on that.”
A tablet? Damn, that’s fancy! Although I’ve never used one before, so I'm sure that’s going to be a fun learning curve. What the hell was wrong with good old-fashioned pen and paper?
Strolling past the library, it’s just as old and grandiose looking as everything else here, but there’s something more inviting about it than the other buildings. Maybe it’s knowing it’s a place of solitude, of losing yourself in work or a good book, that makes it more endearing.
“So, what’s your deal?”
“My deal?” I question, turning to look at Emilia. Her lips are puckered as she runs her eyes over me, trying to figure me out.
“What’s your story?”
“What’s yours?” I retort, not comfortable telling a complete stranger who I am or where I come from. I know she’s more like me than the pretentious rich kids, but there’s still a difference between coming from a poor family, and having no family at all.
Instead of being put off by my prickly behavior, her smile grows wider, like my response has surprised her and she is more than prepared to rise to the challenge. Internally snorting, I can’t help but think she’s got a pretty huge hill to climb if she wants to be my friend. I don’t exactly do friendships; or relationships of any shape or form. I’m just not wired for that. As soon as that line is crossed, there’s a requirement, a sense of responsibility. You’re expected to be there, to show up, to give a damn.
From what I’ve seen, someone always lets the other person down, and it either blows up in your face, or resentment slowly builds up, rotting everything good you once had from the inside out. Yeah, no thanks. I don’t need anyone but myself.
Emilia shrugs her shoulders, not having the same reservations about divulging her life story to a virtual stranger. “It’s just me and my mom; she’s a nurse. We do okay—not anything like this.” She chuckles, waving at our surroundings. “But we get by. Growing up, she was always telling me to strive for more, to want a better life. She works her ass off for everything we have.” Her gaze turns distant as she falls into memories. “I’m here as much for her as for myself. I want both of us to have a better future.”
“That’s really admirable.” I’ve never been close enough with anyone to take care of them like that. Everything I do is for me—to make me a better person, to improve my life. There’s never been anyone else. Well...there was someone. But I don’t let myself think about her now.
She once again turns that blinding smile my way.
“Okay, your turn.”
Butterflies take flight in my stomach, my palms sweating as I bite down on my lower lip. “I’m a foster kid.” There, I said it. “I turned eighteen last month, so apparently that makes me an adult now and responsible for myself.”
“You can’t be doing too bad if you’re here,” Emilia reasons, giving me a soft smile.
“Yeah, I guess,” I acquiesce, not wanting to disagree with her and get into a whole conversation about it, as we stroll through the grounds, the other students around us enjoying their last day of freedom before classes begin tomorrow. Some of them are crowded around benches on the various paths crisscrossing through the lawns, and a group of guys are tossing a ball back and forth.
“The dorms,” Emilia points out, indicating two long, rectangular structures, “and that’s the dining hall.” Another large hall is situated between the two of them, all three buildings have the same gorgeous aesthetic as the rest of the campus. “Boys are on the right, girls on the left.”
She directs me toward the girls' dorms, and we step into a bright foyer with a small seating area and a coffee bar off to one side, and a set of stairs leading to the upper floors. With the white painted walls and black fabric sofas, everything is sleek and modern looking, in complete contrast to the old style of the building.
“Scholarship students, regardless of what year they are, are all on the ground floor, then freshmen on the first floor, sophomores on the second floor, yada yada. At least, that’s how it is in the girls' dorms.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“The boys’ dorms are different. The Princes have had the whole top floor to themselves since first year and everyone else squishes into the lower floors.” Emilia explains all this while she opens a door at the back of the foyer that leads down a wide, white-walled hallway with doors leading off it in both directions. Just like the foyer, everything looks freshly painted and sterile looking. Each door we pass has a girl's name on it along with various stickers and posters personalizing it, distracting me for a second until her words register with me.
“The Princes?”
“Yup,” she says, popping the ‘p.’ “They rule the school. If you think the teachers are in charge here, you’re wrong. They are. Their great-great-whatever grandfathers founded the school or something. From what I’ve heard, everyone in their family has gone here, and ruled the school when they did. It’s a tradition thing.” With a casual shrug of her shoulder, she waves it off.
“Right.” I don’t really understand what she means. How can teenage boys rule the school? All I’ve ever known is that adults are the supreme figures and threatening their place of authority only ever ends badly.
“You probably saw them this morning, they’re impossible to miss.”
My mind immediately skips back to the four guys I saw earlier. With their superior presence and the way they caught everyone’s attention, they must be who Emilia is talking about.
“Yeah, I think I did.”
She nods knowingly, expecting that answer.
“This is me.” She raps her knuckles on a door as we walk past, stopping outside the last room, at the end of the hall. “And I’m guessing this one is yours since it’s the only empty one.”
She pushes the door open and I step into a moderately sized room, my mouth hanging open as I’m met with more white walls and dark wood furniture, the room containing all the basic furniture one could need—a bed, desk, wardrobe, bookcase, and a chest of drawers. Walking over to the window and glancing out, all I can see is the surrounding forest. From this viewpoint, I’m unable to see the paths, meaning no-one can peek into my room, providing me with some modicum of privacy.
“Most of us stick posters and stuff over the walls, or if you have your own bed covers or whatever. As long as we don’t leave any permanent damage, they don’t mind what way we decorate.” At Emilia's words, I turn back around to take in the room again. There isn’t a huge amount of space to move about, but it’s more than I’m used to. Glancing at the bed, I let out a sigh of relief when I find my duffle already there, the stress lifting off my shoulders at seeing it again. It maybe sounds stupid, but when your entire life is in a bag, it’s not easy to let it out of your sight.
“Your key will be in the door and your tablet is on the desk. The showers are across the hall. Everyone on the floor shares them, but it’s not too bad of a rush in the morning.”
I don’t know what to say. It might not look like much, but a whole room to myself? Not having to share with other people? And, looking at the door, I see there’s a lock. I also noticed a lock on the window. This room could literally be my haven away from the world. I don’t have posters or anything to decorate the place with, but regardless, I can picture myself living here, doing my homework or reading a book. No one could come in and bother me or catch me unaware; I could be happy here.
Thankfully, Emilia doesn’t pick up on
my sudden muteness, and after a few more minutes, asks, “Do you wanna check out the rest of the campus?”
I absently nod my head, my eyes still roaming over the room. “Sure, that sounds good.”
We spend the rest of the afternoon wandering around. Emilia showed me the rec center where they have several small cinema rooms for people to chill, a game room, coffee shop; and even a small shop selling stationery, snacks, and anything else you could possibly need, before taking me over to the sports complex. I’ve never seen anything like it; you could more or less do any sporting activity you want. It even came complete with a sauna and spa. The entire campus is insane, resembling more of a self-contained village than a school. You literally don’t have to leave the grounds for anything.
It’s late in the day when we enter the dining hall for dinner. Apparently, breakfast is the only meal of the day with a set time for each year. For the rest of the day, the dining hall is open and you can come and go as you please.
A few of the tables are occupied when we enter, making our way toward the buffet tables. Instead of grabbing a tray, though, Emilia stops beside a kiosk with a computer screen, tapping away on it. I peer over her shoulder as she chooses what meal she wants from the online menu, selecting her table number before stepping to the side, so I can enter what I want.
“Hot meals are selected here, or you can use the app on your tablet. You can also order anything to go, or grab something from the buffet,” she explains as we make our way to an empty table at the far side of the room. She explains it all so casually, but this cannot be the norm at most high schools. It’s definitely a far cry from what I’m used to.
She must see it written on my face, as she releases a small chuckle. “I know, I know. It’s crazy, right? It takes a bit of getting used to. I swear, I walked around here with my mouth hanging open for most of freshman year.”
“Yeah, I bet. I’m struggling to wrap my head around it all. Everything just seems so…over the top.”