by Anna Martin
“Here’s the thing,” Clare said, her expression hardening as she leaned forward on her elbows. “You might have figured out by now that I know you. I know where you lived, I know who your friends were, I know what your GPA was at your last school. I know you got into the Academy on a scholarship because the fees for one semester cost more than what your mother makes in a year.”
“My mother does charity work,” Jared said acidly.
She shrugged. “Whatever. I know your sisters are at Sarah Lawrence. I know you moved in with an aunt who spends more of her time in Cali and Vegas than Washington. I know you’re not likely to get into an Ivy League school unless you pull your grades up, and I know your dad decided the military school he sent you to in Texas to toughen you up and pray out the gay wasn’t worth it anymore. I know why you’re here, Jared Rawell.”
“So what?” he said, forcing nonchalance into his voice even though having his life history played out by a girl he’d met even an hour ago was unnerving him all the way down to his stomach. “You might also know I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of me.”
Clare grinned predatorily. “This next year could be easy for you, sweetheart. Easy as all-American pie. Or it could be hell.”
“And I’m guessing with a bit of double, double, toil and trouble, you three could pick that path for me.”
Clare gave him a sly smile. Mia looked offended. Ryder looked confused.
“All you’ve got to do is hang onto your V card,” Clare said. “Or more specifically, don’t give it to Adam Hemlock.”
“Virginity is a social construct designed to hand power over a woman’s body to the first man who fucks her,” Jared drawled. “I’m calling bullshit.”
“Then do it to prove you can.” Clare’s expression flashed with a challenge.
“You girls are fucking twisted,” Jared said, running his hands over his face. “Are you serious?” They nodded, and Jared sighed heavily. “Yeah. Whatever. I have no intention of sleeping with him anyway.”
The three girls exchanged knowing glances, then turned back to Jared with identical, predatory grins.
Chapter 2
It wasn’t like adapting to a uniform was anything new for Jared. He’d been forced to wear one at military boarding school, an ugly combination of knitted sweater and polyester pants they had to wear year-round, even in the summer.
Of course, at the New Harbor Academy things were slightly different. Pressed gray pants, the crease sharp down the front. A white shirt, navy blue blazer with the Academy’s crest on the breast pocket, and a blue and red tie, the stripes angled, not horizontal.
He threw on a white T-shirt, left the shirt unbuttoned, the tie loose around his neck, and carried the blazer with his leather satchel out to the car while trying not to get lockjaw due to the bagel shoved in his mouth.
He hoisted himself into the cab of his shiny red truck and drove at inadvisable speeds through the small town of New Harbor. Being only an hour from Seattle meant it could have turned into yet another commuter town, but it remained a pocket community with several big businesses running out of small offices.
The [six-dollar toll to get over the bridge kept the riff-raff out, too.
Private, fee-charging high schools weren’t exactly an unknown entity in Washington; there were at least four others within a few hours’ drive. This one was different, though. Founded with old money for the children of older money, and with a pious, Christian message, New Harbor Academy boasted the best grades, highest standards, and most pretentious kids in the state. It was also the only school that demanded the students wear a uniform, much to Jared’s disgust.
The Academy had a sterling academic reputation, and students benefitted from liberal attitudes in the state and the school’s emphasis on classical, conservative learning. To Jared’s surprise, most of the kids were still outside when he arrived and pulled into one of the “visitor” parking spaces. He’d move once he had a pass for the truck.
Clare was leaning against a sleek black Audi convertible, and since he knew almost no one else was around, he walked over to her.
“Morning,” Jared said easily. “Where’s the office?”
“You follow the sign that says ‘office’,” she said. Today her hair was folded into a long braid down her back, and combined with the girls’ uniform of gray skirt and long socks, she looked far too innocent for the activities Jared had seen her engaged in the night before.
“All right,” Jared drawled, and left Ms. Thing with her Celine purse to her nail examining as he sauntered off. More than one person watched him. In fact, a lot of people were watching.
At the office, Jared leaned on the counter and flashed a grin to the older woman sitting at the desk. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Jared Rawell. First day. Please don’t give me a shit locker.”
Two gray eyebrows shot up into a gray hairline. Never mind then.
“Please mind your language, Mr. Rawell. We won’t tolerate that here at New Harbor Academy.”
“I sincerely apologize.”
She sniffed and turned to the computer, tapping something a few times, then whizzed on her chair to the printer.
“Mr. Rawell,” she said again. “Your homeroom class is in 11A. That’s upstairs. There’s a map on the back of your schedule, and this is your temporary parking pass. One will be mailed to your address within the next week or so.”
“Thanks,” Jared said and turned away.
“Oh, and Mr. Rawell?”
“Yeah?”
“I strongly encourage you to dress yourself before you go to class.”
Jared snorted with laughter and folded his map, tucking it into his back pocket and buttoning his shirt as he walked back outside. The bell had rung a few minutes ago, so the parking lot was almost completely empty of students. He tucked the parking pass into the truck, grabbed his battered leather messenger bag, and strolled back to the building.
The school was old, a huge red brick building that had a lot of stone steps and an elaborate external façade. The windows were huge, too, letting plenty of light into the bright, open hallways.
It was fairly easy for Jared to find his way around; there seemed to be a logical way of numbering the classrooms, and he walked into his homeroom only a few minutes late.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m Jared Rawell.”
The female teacher looked young and blatantly checked him out. “Take a seat, Mr. Rawell. I’m Ms. Bowen.”
There were only a few left, and the first one he came to was in the front row. With a “fuck it” attitude, he sat down and shifted low in his seat, aware that his height often caused complaints from people sitting behind him that they couldn’t see the board.
After a few minutes of listening to Ms. Bowen call names, the door to the classroom slammed open and a disheveled-looking guy strode in.
“Mr. Hemlock,” Bowen said. “You’re late.”
“Sorry,” the kid said, not sounding it at all, and came to a stop in front of where Jared slumped. “Who the fuck are you, and why are you in my seat?”
The class tittered appreciatively behind him.
Jared gave the asshole a predatory grin. “Maybe if you showed up on time, you would get to sit where you liked.”
“Settle down, gentlemen,” Bowen said, but the damage was already done. Jared stared down the tall, gorgeous bastard until he crumpled and sat two seats over, under the window where sunlight streamed in on his face.
Broad shoulders. Light brown hair. Overnight stubble. A Windsor-knotted tie, which Jared couldn’t do, and a bad attitude to boot. Nice. Exactly the sort of kid who would get Jared into all sorts of trouble.
The bell rang, and Jared pushed to his feet, surprised when Clare caught up with him in the hall.
“What class do you have now?” he asked.
“English.” She sounded bored, then her face brightened. “So, you met Adam.”
“The beautiful bastard has a name, then.”
“That’s Ada
m, Jared,” she said emphatically.
“Yeah, I got that. He’s a grade-A twat. What of it? Can you show me the way to my class?”
“Do you even have English next?”
Jared shrugged. “Don’t care.”
“Ooh. You rebel.” Her tone was pure sarcasm. Jared approved.
He didn’t have English next, nor did he have biology after that, but he turned up to those classes, and the teachers barely seemed to notice. Since he’d spent the morning following Clare around, when the bell for lunch rang, Jared broke away with the intention of seeking out Chris.
The canteen was packed full of younger kids, and Jared was forced to stand in an embarrassingly long line to buy a can of Mountain Dew, a bag of chips, and an apple. Possibly unsurprisingly, Chris was in the middle of the canteen, where several tables had been pushed together and he was once again holding court. Mia sat to his left, Ryder to his right.
Great.
Jared was about to divert and go outside, sit in his car, and smoke or something, when Chris noticed and waved. Not a cheerleader wave, more a “hey-you, get your ass over here.” Jared didn’t want to argue with the big guy in charge, so he went over and sat in one of the empty seats.
“Hi,” Jared said.
Chris nodded. “Guys, this is Jared. He’s a’ight.”
Mia grinned at him, and Jared ducked his head. There were still several empty seats around the table, but no one else dared approach them, such was the power of Chris’s aura.
“You again.”
Jared didn’t bother to look up, knowing who was standing next to him.
“Play nice, Hemlock,” Chris said, and Adam sighed heavily before sliding into the seat next to Jared. “Where were you last night? First party of the year, homie, and you split on me.”
“I told you I was going into the city,” Adam said.
Jared silently crunched his apple and hoped to God he wouldn’t get drawn into a conversation. Clare delicately took a seat next to him and raised an eyebrow. He gave her a bitch, please look in return.
“Jared and I caught up last night,” Clare said to no one in particular, although it seemed everyone was listening. She was looking at Jared as if he was the sole focus of her attention, and he felt Adam turn to watch their exchange. “It was nice to get to know the new guy.”
Mia and Ryder tittered appreciatively. Jared couldn’t remember which one was which until the fake boobs popped into his head and startled him into coherency. If there was one thing he was sure of with this group of “friends,” it was that someone was getting played. He had a strong idea that person was him.
“Fuck this,” Jared said, pushing his chair back and standing smoothly. “I’ve had enough. I’m splitting.”
Next to him, Adam snickered.
“Oh, dear,” Clare murmured next to him. “What would Daddy say?”
“Daddy’s probably got his dick shoved so deep down the maid’s throat right now, he doesn’t even know I’m alive. You’re all fucking twisted.”
With deep strides, courtesy of his long limbs, Jared strode out of the school, twirling his car keys around his finger. The last thing he expected when he arrived at the truck was Mia sitting on the hood.
“Get in,” he said simply, and she silently obeyed.
He fired up the truck and still she didn’t speak, even when they got out onto the roads that led from one tiny town to another in the state.
“Where’s the shortcut?” Jared asked.
“Through the gym. The doors are fire-alarmed but they don’t actually go off.”
Jared nodded and didn’t avert his eyes from the road. “What the fuck is going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Fucking Biggie reincarnate back there, the most manipulative bitch I’ve ever met in my life, Mr. Chip on his Shoulder….”
Mia laughed. “Seriously, Jared, it’s fine. They’re fucking with you. You get used to it after a while.”
“You’ve known them long?”
“Only since we were all still in Huggies. Back when Chris was shy and Adam was really little, and Clare… no, she was still a manipulative bitch back then.”
Jared snorted.
Mia wound a lock of her long, pale gold hair around her finger and tugged on it carefully. In this light she wasn’t as brashly blonde as Jared had first thought when they were in the bathroom the night before. Her hair was almost strawberry blonde, a reddish tone that couldn’t be replicated from a bottle.
Compared to Ryder, whose curves were manufactured, Mia was tiny and looked much younger than seventeen. He wondered if she had skipped a few grades when she was a kid.
“Where are we going?” she asked after a while. It had started to rain.
“Fuck knows. I just needed to get out of there.”
“Honestly, Jared, you just have to go with it, or they’ll drive you crazy.”
“Jesus,” Jared said and ran his hand over his face. “Does he believe the Biggie shit?”
“I don’t think anyone knows,” Mia said. “I mean, it started a few years back, and we all sort of went with it at the time. Then he found out more and more stuff, and now… I mean, look at him. He seriously looks like a mid-’90’s throwback.”
“We need to get him a crown,” Jared mused.
“He’s already got one.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Wallace wasn’t his birth name, by the way. His mom remarried when he was a kid.” She tossed around the gossip like it didn’t matter. Maybe it didn’t. “Look… I know it’s weird. But he’s, like, only the third ever black kid to get accepted into the Academy. It’s all old, white money, and he got in anyway. So if he wants to play up to that stereotype, let him. He’s got some of the best grades in the whole class.”
“He does it on purpose?”
“Oh, for sure,” she said with a laugh. “What better way to get the upper hand than by convincing everyone you’re beneath them? Chris is playing a game, Jared. And he’s winning it.”
Jared nodded. “And Clare?”
“Clare wants you to think she’s this all-seeing psychic.”
“She’s a psycho.”
“Right?” Mia said it like it was a foregone conclusion. “She’s a bitch. But there are two sides you can be on: her good side and her bad side. After seeing what happens when someone gets on her bad side, I know where I want to be.”
Jared nodded, understanding. He could tell a lot about Clare from seeing her interact with other people. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had some kind of social anxiety; all she seemed to do was push people away and hurt them. Clearly even her closest “friends” were wary of her bite, and that had to mean something.
“Isn’t she, like, your BFF?”
Mia snorted. “You know that old phrase? Keep your friends close….”
“Yeah.”
“I’m good at keeping her real close.”
Jared signaled and turned onto the highway that looped them back into town. “Give me the lowdown on Hemlock.”
“No way,” Mia said. “Totally not worth it.”
“What does he have on you?”
Mia didn’t respond for a long moment.
“Adam is Adam,” she said with a shrug. “We told you all you need to know already. You’ll learn a lot more by watching than me telling you.”
Weirdly, that made sense. Jared drove Mia back to school, then went home.
The house was empty, of course; his aunt, who was only a few years older than him, wasn’t at home, and she lived there alone. Hadley had promised his mother she would take good care of Jared while he finished his senior year, then promptly fucked off to Vegas the day after he arrived. Hadley was a party girl—Jared could appreciate that—and her first ex-husband had given her the house as part of the divorce settlement.
From the one conversation he’d had with her, Jared got the impression she hated it here. He didn’t know why she kept the house; if she sold it she could easily
get a cool million. He had a feeling his father had something to do with it, and Jared’s failed career at military school.
Still, he hadn’t seen his father in over a year, which was the best thing for everyone involved. Even though his parents were still technically married, they lived in separate states and had sex with whomever they liked. Jared liked to tell his father that his own loose sexual morals had been inherited, although he went after a different kind of tail.
It had started to rain again, so Jared jogged up the steps to the front door and let himself in, only just remembering the code for the alarm before it sent an automatic signal to the police.
With nothing to do for the rest of the afternoon, and absolutely no chance of Hadley coming back, Jared did what any self-respecting eighteen-year-old would do: watched porn, ate junk food, and played video games. For nearly seven hours. With an aching wrist (for more than one reason), he forced himself to get out of bed and take a shower. He had to be up early in the morning. For school.
Jared had always liked taking long showers, especially when there was no one around to interrupt him. He was an Aquarius. It had been one of the worst things about the military school—apart from the inherent homophobia, the bastard instructors, and getting terrible grades because the teaching sucked, he was forced to live in a shared dorm room with locker-room style showers.
Spend too long soaping your balls and someone was bound to notice, and not being noticed had been one of the key things to staying sane and alive in that hellhole.
With both his older sisters electing to take liberal-arts degrees, rather than the political or law careers their father had pushed for, it was left to Jared to pick up the slack they had left behind. He was more than okay with Daddy paying Jared’s way into an Ivy League school, but he needed halfway decent grades to back it up. Hence, New Harbor Academy, one of the country’s best private high schools with a 100 percent pass rate in the graduating senior class, and nearly 70 percent gaining a place in one of the top ten best colleges in America. Most of the remaining 30 percent ended up studying abroad. The Academy boasted strong ties with Cambridge University in England.