by Laura Lee
I jab my heel into his shin repeatedly, eliciting a few “Oofs!” but the bastard doesn’t relinquish his hold.
Peyton is trying to get to me as well while Kingston restrains her. She’s tossing out all kinds of threats but I tune her out.
“Enough!” a loud, authoritative voice booms. “Somebody escort Miss Devereux to the infirmary.” The fifty-something balding man walks up to me, scowling in disapproval. “As for you, Miss Callahan, get cleaned up and report directly to my office.”
I throw my hands up as Bentley releases me. “What? She started it! And who the hell are you anyway?”
A round of snickers passes through the crowd.
The man narrows his beady eyes. “I’m Headmaster Davis. And you are not getting off to a good start, young lady. You have exactly twenty minutes to get cleaned up.”
The man storms out of the dining room without another word.
“Shit, new girl,” Bentley says as he swings his heavy arm over my shoulder. “That was hot AF, but you’re in deep shit. The headmaster don’t play when people throw punches on campus. You gotta save that shit for when there’re no witnesses.” He leans into my ear. “Nice panties, by the way. Lace looks good on you.”
I push his arm off. “Pig.”
He winks. “Oink, oink, baby.”
Ainsley weaves in between us. “Move, Bentley. Are you okay, Jazz?”
I pull my long hair over my shoulder and wring it out over the floor. “I’m fine. Stupid bitch wouldn’t know how to throw a solid punch if her life depended on it.”
Ainsley’s eyes widen as she shucks off her blazer. “I have a spare uniform in my locker that you can borrow. Here, put this on for now.”
I follow her gaze and sure enough, my white dress shirt is completely see-through. And of course, I’m wearing a sheer red bra because my shirt is thick enough that it wasn’t a problem when it was dry. Now, not so much. As I’m buttoning Ainsley’s jacket, I make the mistake of looking up to find three sets of eyes staring at my chest.
I narrow my eyes at Kingston, Reed, and Bentley. “Grow up, dickheads. They’re nipples—we all have them.”
Kingston returns my glare, Bentley wags his eyebrows and winks, and Reed looks like he couldn’t possibly be more bored, which seems to be his default setting.
I roll my eyes when I see Whitney and Imogen fawning all over my stepsister as the three of them exit the room. I have no doubt Peyton’s going to play the victim card and milk this for all it’s worth.
Now that the fight is over, the other students return to their tables and resume eating their lunch as if nothing happened.
I turn to leave, but Kingston steps in front of me, blocking my path. “Dumb move, Jasmine.”
I flip him off. “Fuck you and fuck your bitch ass girlfriend. You two deserve each other.”
I grab Ainsley’s elbow. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
CHAPTER NINE
JAZZ
“I am sorely disappointed in you, young lady. It’s bad enough you injured your sister, but you embarrassed this family.” Sperm Donor frowns. “How am I supposed to explain why any daughter of mine would behave like this?”
Charles summoned me to his study the moment he got home. He’s been reading me the riot act for the past five minutes, and it’s taking everything in me to remain calm.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that Peyton started it by dumping ice water all over me.”
Charles leans back in his chair. “She said it was an accident.”
I scoff. “Really? She accidentally picked up my water glass, accidentally raised it above my head, and accidentally flipped it over? You can’t possibly believe that.”
“Why would she lie? Peyton has zero history of violence.” He opens the top drawer of his desk and pulls out a file. “According to this, you cannot say the same.”
I crane my neck, trying to see what’s in the folder. “What is that?”
He flips through some papers. “A standard dossier. School records, housing records, criminal background check. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in a physical altercation at school.”
What the fuck? Who the hell keeps a file on their kid?
“I was in one fight at school and I didn’t start that one either.”
Some chick at my old school didn’t like the way her boyfriend looked at me, so she decided to throw down in the middle of PE.
He levels me with an icy stare. “You’re lucky Headmaster Davis was so understanding about your upbringing and agreed to limit your punishment to detention. Windsor Academy typically has a zero-tolerance policy on violence. I had to make a generous donation to convince him to look the other way. You will not get another chance, so I suggest you figure out a way to stay out of trouble. If you get expelled from Windsor, I’ll have to ship you off to a boarding school.”
My jaw drops. “Why can’t I just go to public school? It’s not like the school system here sucks.”
“No child of mine will go to public school.” He says the last two words with a sour look on his face. “You’ll either attend Windsor or I’m shipping you off. I have contacts at an academy in Connecticut. I’m sure we can get you in there.”
I shake my head. “I can’t leave LA. I won’t leave my sister. My real sister.”
Charles gives me a contemptuous smile. “Well, then I guess you’ll need to behave yourself, won’t you? Do we have an understanding, Jasmine?”
I roll my tongue in my cheek. “Yeah, I understand.”
I understand you’re an even bigger asshole than I originally thought.
He nods. “Good. Now, get the hell out of my office so I can get back to work.”
Gladly, you prick.
I DESPERATELY NEED to hear Belle’s voice, so I pick up my phone and pull up her father’s contact info.
He answers on the third ring. “Yeah?”
“Hey, Jerome. This is Jazz.”
“What do you want?” he slurs.
Great. He’s been drinking.
I take a seat on the edge of my bed. “I was hoping I could speak with Belle.”
“Can’t. Monica is giving her a bath and shit.”
“Who’s Monica?”
“My woman. What’s it to you?”
Well, at least Belle isn’t alone with this loser. Hopefully Monica is much nicer than he is. And more sober.
“Um... I just really miss her and wanted to check in. I called the other day, but I hadn’t heard back yet.”
“I’ve been busy.”
Busy finding the bottom of a bottle, I’m sure.
“You still working construction, Jerome?”
“Nah,” he says. “Boss man didn’t like it when I cut out early one day and told me to not bother coming back.”
“So, what are you doing for work now?”
“What’s it to you?”
“I want to make sure my sister is being taken care of.”
It sounds like he’s taking a drag from a cigarette. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about us, sweetheart. Monica’s a good woman. Can’t have kids of her own so she’s been takin’ care of Belle real good.”
“I’d like to see her this weekend. I can come to you if that makes it easier.”
“Sure, sure. Just give me a call and we’ll set something up.”
I crinkle my brows. “Um... can we just set something up now since I have you on the phone?”
“No can do. Real busy here. We’ll talk later.”
“Wait!” I want to scream when the call disconnects.
I consider calling back, but I know Jerome would just ignore it. I never understood how he and my mom got together in the first place. Sure, he’s a quintessential tall, dark, and handsome man, but he’s a drunk and a jerk. Mom swore he was sober when they met and quite charming. Supposedly, he didn’t start drinking heavily until she was pregnant. Personally, I think he was just better at hiding it before then.
Now that I think about it,
I wonder what the hell she saw in my sperm donor. So far, I haven’t seen any redeeming qualities. Mom once told me she worked for him, but she wouldn’t divulge anything else, afraid to give me any information that would reveal his identity. I was shocked when I learned his name was added to my birth certificate.
My social worker, Davina, made a solid point—if my mom truly didn’t want me to find him, why would she do that? Things just aren’t adding up. I need to sit down with Charles and get his side of the story. It’s probably best if I give him some time to cool off. Maybe by the time Peyton’s nose is better, he’ll be more willing to talk to me about it. I have to at least try. It’s not like I can get answers from the grave.
CHAPTER TEN
JAZZ
The rest of the week is a complete clusterfuck. It seems as if the entire school has turned on me besides Ainsley. I’ve been called every derogatory name under the sun by people I’ve never met, had countless others try to trip me, shoulder check me, or shoot spitballs into my hair. The only time someone doesn’t pick on me, is during lunch. The fact that Headmaster Davis is constantly making rounds through the dining room since the fight probably has something to do with that.
By the time Friday rolls around, I can’t wait for the final bell so I can have a break from this hellhole. I’m actually looking forward to what the weekend has in store. I consider checking out the pool since I practically have that giant house to myself. Charles went away on business again and Madeline and Peyton have gone to a spa in San Francisco, or whatever that’s code for. At home, it’s just me and the staff who are pretty much invisible unless you need something from them. Jerome still won’t return my calls, but I’m going to keep trying until he does. Worst case scenario, I’ll call our social worker and see if I can convince her to give me Belle’s address.
Considering how cold people have been to me, I’m stunned when Bentley comes up to my locker right before first period and swings his arm around me. “Jazzy Jazz, how are you doing this fine morning?”
I try pulling away, but he grips my shoulder, holding me in place. “Get off me.”
He leans down and whispers, “Aw, c’mon baby, don’t be like that. You let Kingston get up in that pretty pussy. Don’t you think I should have a taste?”
Wait... what?
I rear back and I’m sure my confusion is evident. “What are you talking about?”
He presses his free hand over his heart. “Oh, you thought he’d keep that to himself? Like maybe it meant something to him? That’s adorable.”
I scoff. “Fuck off.”
Bentley laughs. “Remember what I said about you talking dirty? It makes me hard.”
I give him the stink-eye. “Anything with tits makes you hard.”
He mock shivers. “Not true. I can think of quite a few women in my life who have the opposite effect. Take Ms. Henderson, for example. Major boner killer.”
I snort. Ms. Henderson has blueish gray hair, leather skin, and is approximately one-hundred-and-eighty years old. I continue walking down the hall, his heavy arm weighing me down. I don’t miss the dirty looks pretty much every girl in the vicinity is giving me. I stop when we get to my first class.
“Bentley, I need to get to class.”
Right when I think he’s going to let me go, he pulls me into him instead. My nose is smashed against his chest as he envelops me in a bear hug. I’m not proud to admit it, but I make no attempt to retreat. Everyone can use a hug sometimes, and I’m definitely overdue.
He kisses me on the cheek. “See you later, babe.”
I place my hand over the spot his lips just touched as I watch him walk away. I must’ve been in a daze because I don’t notice anyone approaching me until I’m clipped in the shoulder.
“Move out of the way, bitch,” Whitney sneers as she walks past me to take her seat.
Great. Now another one of the Queen Bs has a problem with me. I take my seat and look straight ahead, waiting for class to begin. I can feel people staring, but I ignore them. Hell, I’m actually getting used to it by now, as sad as that is.
My head turns when someone kicks my chair.
The girl who sits behind me—Jessica, I think—smiles. “Oops, my bad.”
I roll my eyes as I turn back around. The entire class is filled with one taunt after another by Whitney and several of our classmates. Our teacher is oblivious, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s intentional or not. These bitches aren’t exactly being quiet with their name-calling. Slut, trash, cum bucket—their insults are disguised by fake sneezes or coughs, but the words couldn’t be any clearer.
I stay seated after the bell rings, waiting for the other students to file out, so I don’t have to be in the middle of them.
Whitney pauses next to my desk and grins. “If you don’t stay away from the kings—especially Bentley—this is just the beginning, whore.” She knocks my backpack off my chair and saunters out the door with a little extra pep.
I grit my teeth, fuming, as she leaves the classroom. I remind myself that I cannot go after her or I’ll be facing expulsion. And if I get expelled, Charles will ship me off to Connecticut, where I have no chance of seeing my sister.
AINSLEY PRACTICALLY pounces on me the moment I sit down for lunch. “There’s a party tonight and you’re coming with me.”
I laugh. “Uh... no, I’m not. I have no desire to spend extra time with these assholes.”
She pouts. “C’mon, Jazz, it’ll be fun! Donovan, the guy who’s throwing it, is funny and sexy and sweet. And best of all, he’s in college so I highly doubt many high schoolers will be there.”
Ainsley gets a dreamy look in her eyes when she mentions this Donovan guy.
“You like him, don’t you?”
She smiles. “I really do. He’s a freshman at UCLA but he went to Windsor which is how I met him. I had the biggest crush on him last year but he had a girlfriend. I ran into him at the Commons yesterday and he invited me. And get this—he just happened to mention that he’s single now! That’s gotta be a hint, right?”
“It does sound like he’s into you,” I agreed. “What’s the Commons?”
“Oh, it’s kind of like the central meeting spot nearby. I totally had a craving for sushi after ballet, so I stopped there for dinner last night. They have the best sushi place. Donovan was there too—looking even hotter than he was last year—and we wound up sitting together and talking for like two hours.” She puts her hands in a prayer position. “Please, please, please come with me, Jazz. I don’t want to show up alone just in case I was reading him wrong. If we get there and you absolutely hate it, I promise we’ll leave right away.”
I sigh. “Fine.”
She beams. “I’ll pick you up at six. We can grab a bite to eat and get ready at my house. You can even sleep over if you want. Don’t worry about my jerkface brother; he lives in the pool house and he’s usually at Reed’s or Bentley’s on the weekends.”
“What exactly do I need to get ready for?”
Ainsley gives me an Are you dense? look. “Because there’s going to be a bunch of hot college guys there! Consider this your chance to let loose and act your age. Have a few drinks, maybe flirt with a few guys. Just set aside all the crappy stuff for one night and have fun. I really think you need this, Jazz. You can’t be sad or angry all the time. It’s not healthy.”
“Am I that obvious?”
She gives me a sad smile in reply.
I take a deep breath. “Okay, you’re right. What harm can letting loose for one night cause? I’m in.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JAZZ
Famous last words.
That’s the first thing I think when I walk into the party. Pure pandemonium, that’s what this is. Donovan’s place is packed with bodies, all in various states of intoxication. I’ve been to plenty of ragers over the last few years, but this is on a whole other level. I’ve never seen so much excess in one place.
There’s an elaborate bar set up in one cor
ner and a DJ booth in another, pumping beats through a kickass sound system. Scantily clad girls are grinding on a makeshift dance floor, surrounded by a group of guys watching them appreciatively. Couples are making out against every available surface—a few even appear to be doing a lot more than kissing, with no regards to their audience. A cloud of smoke circles a group of people taking hits from a bong while others sitting with them are snorting lines of white powder using rolled up bills.
I shake my head when the song switches and Kendrick Lamar begins rapping about being humble. That would be the last word I’d use to describe any of these people.
“This is great, right?” Ainsley yells into my ear, looking around excitedly.
“Yeah... sure.”
She points to the bar area. “Let’s get a drink.”
We walk up to the bar where there’s an actual bartender manning the station.
His green eyes sparkle with interest as he checks me out. “What can I get you pretty ladies?”
Ainsley smiles. “Give me a screwdriver.”
Bartender guy turns to me. “And you, beautiful?”
“I’ll have a screwdriver as well.”
“Coming right up.” He grabs two red Solo cups and pours a generous amount of vodka into each before adding some OJ. His fingertips graze mine as he hands me a drink, and I blush. “I’m Kyle. You just let me know if you need anything else.” Kyle looks to be in his early twenties, so I’m guessing this might be a part-time job for him while he’s in college.
I bite my lip before taking a sip. “Thanks, Kyle. I’m Jazz.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You come here for someone in particular? Or with someone?”
Ainsley smiles knowingly. “You askin’ if my girl here is available?”
Kyle laughs. “Maybe I am.” His eyes never leave mine as he answers her question. “So... are you available, Jazz?”
“Oh, um... I guess you—”
“I’m fairly certain you’re being paid to mix drinks, not pick up women,” an all too familiar deep voice growls from my right.