St Mary's Academy Series Box Set 1

by Seven Steps

  Why couldn’t Bella see that?

  I quickly undressed and slid underneath my covers. Raja snuggled up next to me.

  “You like Andrew, don’t you, boy?” I asked.

  He blinked at me, licked my arm, and laid his head on the blanket.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  I cuddled up to my pillow and closed my eyes.

  Andrew was a good guy. My kind of guy. And I wasn’t going to let him get away any time soon.

  16

  The girls met up by my locker the next morning.

  Leave it to my friends to not be able to wait for juicy details.

  “So, he took you to a business meeting for your first date?” Sophia scrunched her nose as if she had just smelled a very angry skunk.

  “Not a business meeting,” I said. “It was a networking dinner.”

  “It was a room, where a bunch a businessman got together and discussed business. That sounds like a business meeting to me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. I had fun.”

  “Fun? Since when did business meetings become fun?” Sophia asked. “What’s next, accounting parties? Maybe you could all get together and work on spreadsheets.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” I said, a little too loudly. “It was… sophisticated.”

  Sophia took a big bite of her bagel with cream cheese. “Sounds boring to me. Did you at least make out afterward?”

  “Gentlemen don’t make out,” I said.

  “Then, please, Lord, don’t send a gentleman my way,” she said, slapping Purity five.

  I frowned at her.

  “Don't mind her,” Ariel said. “She’s just mad because she didn’t go out on a date last night.”

  “For your information, I had band practice or else I would have. Thank you very much.”

  “Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Cole said, sauntering up to us with Eric in tow. “Who is your best friend?”

  “You are, babe,” Bella answered.

  He gave her a quick peck on the lips. “That is correct. And why am I your best friend?”

  “Is this going to be gross?” Sophia asked. “Because if it is I have a class to attend.”

  “Wrong,” Cole said. “I am your best friend because I just scored eight tickets to Ronnie Garrison’s party this weekend!”

  It took us two seconds for his words to sink in. Then we all screamed and jumped and danced around Cole like crazy monkeys.

  Ronnie Garrison threw the most amazing events throughout the year. I’d never attended. But, I hadn’t been invited either. Bella, Ariel, Cole, and Eric had gone. Sophia too. But this would be my first official bash, and I was excited.

  “So, seven for the dream team.” He gestured at us. “And a plus one for Princess Jasmine for whomever you want to bring.”

  “Aw, Cole.” I hugged him tightly. Bella did choose a sweet guy.

  “Are you going to ask Andrew?” Bella asked.

  Cole dished out the tickets. I took my two and placed them in my locker.

  “I don’t know. We never talked about it.”

  “Well, start talking,” Sophia said. “We have to get our outfits coordinated STAT.”

  Bella gazed at her ticket. “The theme is masquerade ball. I better get my face mask ready.”

  “Ugh, I hate costume parties,” Eric said, wrapping his arms around Ariel’s shoulders. “They’re so ninth grade.”

  “Does that mean that Comic-Con cosplay is out this year?” Ariel asked.

  Eric frowned. “Cosplay is not a costume party. One is adults in complex, intricate outfits honoring their favorite comic book, movie, book, or television characters and the other is kids in elephant mask.”

  “What’s wrong with elephant mask?” Cole asked. “In ninth grade I made a working elephant mask complete with a water hose for the nose. Then, I squirted Mr. Mann and got suspended for two days. It was awesome.”

  We all laughed.

  “Seriously,” Ariel said, looking at me. “This is going to be awesome. We need a good party.”

  “We need a theme,” Sophia said.

  “A theme?” I asked.

  “Yes, a mask theme so we can recognize each other.”

  I thought a minute. Then I got the perfect idea. “Just leave the mask up to me. I will be the keeper of the masks.”

  “Look at Jasmine, taking charge,” Sophia said. “I like it. Get your life, girl.”

  “I’ll have everything mocked up by tomorrow.”

  “Along with our costumes for the Battle of the Bands?” Cole asked. “That seems like a lot on your plate.”

  Right. The costumes. I’d almost forgotten about them.

  “Everything is well in hand. Just leave it to me.”

  “Cool.”

  “I have a great idea,” Sophia said. “We should perform at Ronnie’s party. It’ll be great exposure for Battle of the Bands.”

  We all nodded and voiced our approval.

  That was probably the best idea Sophia had ever come up with. Much better than the gold fringe thing.

  “We just need an in. Someone to ask Ronnie.”

  And therein lay the problem.

  Ronnie Garrison was a reclusive icon in this school. A figure always named but rarely seen. Some people said he didn’t even go to St. Mary’s. His party tickets were left in a locked box in the boys’ bathroom on the third floor, guarded by Mike O’Hera. And Mike never confessed where he got them from.

  “I’ll cozy up to Mike. See if he can get us an audience,” Cole said. “In the meantime, you two”—he gestured to Sophia and Bella—“can put together a short set list.”

  Sophia clapped and jumped up and down. “This is going to be amazing.”

  “Are you going to need a catering table?” Purity asked.

  I laughed. I’d never seen someone so into cooking and yet as thin as Purity.

  The bell rang, and we said our goodbyes and headed for our first period classes.

  I snuck a look at my blank wall and smiled.

  Today would be my first day painting my new mural.

  Two-thirty couldn’t come fast enough.

  “Hey!” Someone screamed from down the hall. It was Jeffrey Wolowitz. Or Wally as we called him. “Someone tagged the gym!”

  I looked back at my friends.

  They looked at me.

  Then the crowd swept us away, down the hallway in the direction of the latest high school drama.

  17

  I’d never believed in déjà vu before. Yet, the feeling rang through me so clear and strong that it left me unable to speak.

  There, in the gym, angrily glaring at the world through amber eyes was a giant image of a hideous rat painted in such realistic, disgusting detail that I swore it was going to jump off the wall and devour me whole. The deep brown fur ended in razor sharp points. Its fleshy nose and blood-smeared teeth and claws turned my stomach in disgust. The beast was positioned mid-pounce, as if it were leaping through the wall and directly into my reality.

  Shivers ran through me as I looked into those fearsome, disturbingly life-like eyes. I hated rats. They were big and disgusting and unavoidable in New York City, especially in the subway. And, to make matters worse, they weren’t afraid of people. I saw a rat slide across the Rockefeller Center ice rink once. I hadn’t been back since.

  “That thing gives me the creeps,” Bella whispered.

  Ariel and Bella stepped closer to me, snaking their arms around me like I was the shield that would protect them in case this thing came alive and charged at us.

  “Don’t look directly into its eyes,” Ariel said. “It’ll haunt your nightmares.”

  “Or steal your soul,” Bella added.

  I couldn’t believe that someone would do something like this.

  Not just someone.

  Ollie.

  It was obvious it was him. First, he tagged the wall he was supposed to paint. Now the school gym. And the fact he’d barely spoken two words or looked at me sinc
e the first graffitiing incident spoke volumes.

  He did this. He would rather tag the school gym than help me with my mural.

  On some deep level I didn’t want to explore, it hurt.

  “This is not okay,” Ariel said. “What kind of loser comes into one of the most prestigious school districts in the city and vandalizes it?”

  “Someone who doesn’t care about getting caught,” Bella said. “I heard we installed a new security system since the last graffiti incident. Someone is going to get busted, big time.”

  “They deserve it,” I said.

  She was right.

  Ollie did deserve to get busted.

  Mr. Mann, the principal, angrily stood close to the large painting, arms crossed, foot tapping against the wood.

  To the left side of the gym, a group of custodians were busy fitting together pipes and planks for scaffolding and mixing something—probably paint thinner—in a big vat.

  “By now, Mr. Mann probably has this guy’s picture, DNA samples, X-rays, heat signatures, fingerprints, and family records,” Bella said. “The SWAT team’s probably breaking down his front door as we speak.”

  “This isn’t a cop show, Bella,” Ariel said. “I’m sure they don’t send the SWAT team to arrest people who graffiti.”

  Bella shrugged. “Well, they should.”

  I looked up at the rat again and swallowed. The rat was repulsive, and I would surely have nightmares about it, but, being an artist, I couldn’t deny the fact Ollie had some serious talent. This painting made me feel something. Not like my paintings, which Mrs. Meredith had called emotionless and flat.

  My mood sank lower.

  If only Ollie could’ve just cooperated, he could’ve helped me improve my paintings, and, with that, my chances of getting into Devinta Holly’s summer internship program.

  But now, as each day passed, it felt more and more like I would never get into the program.

  Like it was just a dream.

  Maybe I would be doomed to a life of being a doctor after all.

  “Come on,” Bella said. “Let’s get out of here before we’re late.”

  We shoved and pushed our way through what seemed like the entire student body who’d gathered in the gym to see its latest, unwelcome addition.

  From somewhere in the crowd, a pair of dark eyes met mine.

  Ollie’s.

  He winked at me, then disappeared into the crowd.

  I rolled my eyes and huffed.

  I hated being winked at. Almost as much as I hated rats.

  I glanced at the disturbing beast once more before I passed through the gym doors.

  When I closed my eyes, I could still see its angry, beady eyes, staring into mine.

  Gross.

  My friends and I parted at the gym and I headed for first period art.

  A familiar figure turned the corner up ahead and smiled at me. Blond hair, blue perfect eyes. Wide mouth with a deliciously full lower lip. Black shrunken sweater over a white shirt. Bold, black watch and fitted jeans. God, he looked like he’d just stepped out of a catalog.

  Andrew was gorgeous.

  “Hey, Jasmine.”

  I hugged my books closer. My entire body brightened.

  Gone were the doubts I’d had about us before, replaced only with a gentle brilliance that was Andrew Johnson.

  “Hey, Andrew.”

  He walked toward me, at the same time placing his phone in the pocket of his jeans.

  He jerked his chin in the direction of the gym doors.

  “You see that rat in the gym? Weird, huh?”

  “Yeah. Totally weird.”

  “I mean, what kind of a person graffiti’s a school. It’s morally deplorable.”

  “Absolutely deplorable.” I cringed, willing myself to say something intelligent. Why did I always turn into this different person when I was around Andrew? “But they should catch this guy soon. I mean, the school’s security system is really top-notch.”

  “Not enough, I think. There are so many questions to consider. Did an alarm go off? Did anyone see anything? What about street security camera? This is the second time something like this has happened and I just have this feeling we’re not doing enough to catch this guy, you know?”

  His eyes were earnest, full of indignation. I could tell he felt violated by this situation.

  “Someone should contact the security company,” he said.

  “And the mayor,” I added. “The chief of police too. There should be some discussion about how to stop graffiti from destroying our cities.”

  His eyes lit, and his expression stretched into something very close to awestruck.

  “That is an excellent idea, Jasmine. Top rated. I knew you were sharp, but this is a side of you I didn’t expect.”

  I preened and nearly melted into a pool of warm goo at his feet.

  “My father has a contact within the NYPD,” he continued. “Perhaps some dialog could be started with them.”

  “Not just dialog. Action.”

  He raised a hand to his cheek and shook his head.

  “Brilliant,” he said. “Absolutely brilliant. You know, Jasmine, yours is the type of mind that would be very useful in the F.E.W. Have you ever thought of joining?”

  The Future Entrepreneurs of the World Club met at each other’s houses monthly to discuss world financial and political issues. I was convinced that the members of this club were going to be industry world leaders one day. And the fact Andrew had just invited me to join filled me with a sense of pride that was next to indescribable.

  “I’d need a little more information,” I replied. “I’m not one to make such important decisions without being one hundred percent informed.”

  He took a step closer.

  “Jasmine, has anyone ever told you that maturity of your caliber is as rare as finding a diamond in a vegetable garden?”

  Butterflies erupted in my stomach, but I kept my body still, my face composed.

  “Not recently.”

  He nodded, his eyes searching my face. “Well, it’s true. Especially in this place.”

  The late bell rang, announcing I was officially tardy.

  But, standing here with Andrew’s eyes on me, I couldn’t seem to muster the strength to care.

  He sighed. “Well, that’s the bell.” He took a step back. Disappointment filled me. We’d been having such a great conversation. I didn’t want it to end. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Lunch.”

  He smiled at me again, and I couldn’t help but coo. He took several more steps back, his eyes still examining me as if I were a hot stock tip. My cheeks heated under his inspection, but I didn’t turn away. I wanted Andrew to look at me. It made me feel beautiful.

  I was so focused on Andrew and his amazing, ice blue eyes that I didn’t register the boy clad in black barreling down the hall until it was too late. Andrew’s foot stepped back, right onto Ollie’s toe.

  My mouth dropped open as Ollie growled and glared at Andrew. Ollie and fighting were synonymous at this school. The last kid he beat up, Clay Roman, lost a tooth. It sickened me that something might happen to Andrew’s beautiful face.

  “Hey! Watch it,” Ollie growled.

  Andrew put up two hands in defense.

  “Sorry, man,” he said. “I was”—Andrew glanced at me, then looked back at Ollie—“distracted.”

  Ollie hadn’t missed the reference, and his eyes darted between Andrew and me. Something dark glinted across his expression before he smoothed it into something more neutral, albeit pissed off.

  “Next time, distract yourself somewhere less crowded, Blondie.”

  Andrew’s confident, friendly expression never waned.

  “We’re cool, bro.”

  Ollie sneered. “I’m not your bro.”

  And then he took off down the hallway.

  Probably to stake out his next victim.

  Andrew’s gaze returned to me. He smiled, waved goodbye, and was
off down the hall.

  I sagged against my locker.

  Crisis averted.

  Andrew was like a modern-day knight. Refined. Brave. Strong. Chivalrous. He was everything a man should be. So far removed from Ollie that they weren’t even on the same planet.

  He’d said I distracted him. That had to be good, right? Every girl wanted to be a boy’s distraction. At least, that was the case in every romance novel I’d ever read, and I read a lot of them.

  Yes, Andrew was my own personal book boyfriend come to life.

  And I was not letting him slip away.

  18

  The giant rat was the buzz of art class.

  Everyone wondered who the mysterious artist was, if they were the same artist as the equally mysterious graffitier from two days before, and if they were going to get caught.

  The only two that weren’t talking about it were me and Ollie.

  Ollie kept his head down, his pencil moving along the pages of his notebook, a small smile on his face. I was certain he was enjoying his fifteen minutes of fame, and it crawled under my skin.

  “Okay, class, settle down,” Mrs. Meredith said, holding her arms up for attention. “I know we’re all very excit—uh… outraged at what happened in the gym today. But I think we can take this horrible event and turn it into a learning opportunity.”

  She hurried to the overhead camera and switched it on.

  A photo of the rat from the gym appeared on the television at the front of the class.

  “Okay. So, let’s talk about some of the key points of the painting and what it might say about the artist.”

  I ground my back teeth as Mrs. Meredith heaped praise upon Ollie and his “art” while being sure to condemn the action.

  I wanted to stand up and scream at her that Ollie was the perpetrator. That we should be turning him over to the police, not learning from him.

  But I couldn’t do that, because I had no proof.

  The frustration of it all made my chest hurt.