Rich Boys vs. Poor Boys (The Cruel Kings of Castle Hill Academy, Book 1) by Devon Hartford kd103

by Hartford, Devon

  “She’d like that,” he chuckles. “But I’d rather do it myself.” Chase closes the bathroom door and stalks toward me.

  Am I scared? You better believe it. This French maid outfit is like wearing next to nothing and my heart is racing. But I’m also, I don’t know, Chase is so… those topaz eyes of his are smoldering… and a lock of umber brown hair is dangling over those smoky eyes, bouncing hypnotically and I can’t look away, like that hair is demanding I push it back into place before I regain the ability to think straight.

  He gets within a foot of me and I feel his heat right before his musky scent mesmerizes me. “You like fun, don’t you, mugshot?”

  I laugh stupidly, “I have HPV, remember? And cancer of the who-ha.” It’s the only thing I can think of because his intentions are completely transparent.

  “I had the vaccine and cancer isn’t contagious.” He cages me with my back to the sink, hands planted on either side of me on the countertop. His lips are inches from mine. No, make that one inch. He’s getting closer and closer. Half an inch. His minty breath washes over me in sultry seduction.

  I can feel the cool marble of the sink against my butt because again, sexist costume. I should be shoving him away and ordering him to stop and lecturing him that no means no, but I haven’t said no, have I? I don’t think I could say it if I wanted to. At this point, a one syllable word is more than a mouthful. I don’t think I could manage a single vowel if I tried. My knees are melting to jelly, and that’s not the only part of me that is.

  The bathroom door bangs open.

  “Mary, we have to—” Mimi stops herself and gasps, “Chase! Get off her!”

  His lips can’t get any closer without his nose bumping into mine. His warm breath caresses me as he says, “How about I get you both off, then you both return the favor?”

  “Chase!” Mimi barks. “Stop it or I’ll tell Ms. Skelter!”

  “Get her too and she can join in,” he chuckles. “You know she still has a tight ballerina body under those old lady clothes she wears.”

  “Have you seen it?” Mimi blurts.

  Chase offers a sly wink.

  “Ew, Chase! Ew!” Mimi shivers. “Ms. Skelter is grandmother old! That’s disgusting!”

  “Don’t tell her that,” Chase chuckles. “She’s not too old to enjoy a little fun.”

  “Get out of here, Chase!” Mimi orders, irritated.

  “It’s my room,” Chase drawls, not taking his eyes off me.

  I can’t take mine off his either. I’m shivering in anticipation.

  Mimi says, “I meant the bathroom! Wait for us to finish.”

  “Oooh,” he purrs suggestively. “Can I watch you two finish each other off?”

  “Out, Chase!” Mimi practically shoves him out the door and slams it. She whispers, “Can you believe him?”

  It takes me a moment to collect myself and stutter, “Yes. I saw him in the balcony box in drama class today with some blonde Fundy.”

  “What were they doing?”

  “What they weren’t supposed to be,” I giggle.

  She rolls her eyes. “Did you see who he was with?”

  I almost ask why she cares so much. Does Mimi have a thing for Chase? I mean, who doesn’t, but he did seem overly familiar with her and let her order him around. Then again, he was being overly familiar with me and probably every girl here at Castle Hill. I shake my head, “Just some blonde. I thought it might be Eliza-bitch Morgan-Hearse, but…” I think of Azzie, who I’m convinced is actually Elizabeth, but I don’t say that because if they’re the same person, and Azzie was sitting next to me, that means Chase was up in the box, that’s not a pun, with another person whose box he was up in, that was not her. “I think it was someone else.”

  “Did you just call her Eliza-bitch?” Mimi laughs.

  I nod, “And Morgan-Hearse with an e, you know, like one of those funeral cars, because something tells me she’ll be the death of me if she ever gets half a chance.”

  “I can’t stand her,” Mimi scowls.

  “Who, Eliza-bitch?”

  She nods.

  “Can anyone?” I quip.

  She laughs. “Only her stupid boyfriend.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Prince Lancaster the turd,” Mimi giggles.

  I laugh at that even though that little detail about him dating that female fiend is slightly annoying for no rational reason whatsoever.

  “Have you met him yet? Prince Turd?”

  I nod, “Definitely a turd.”

  “Tell him I told you that.”

  “Next time I see him,” I wink.

  “No don’t!” she laughs.

  “What’s so funny?” Chase calls through the door.

  “Go away, Chase! We’re working! Mary, we need to finish and get the key back. It’s almost seven.”

  It takes minutes to finish up, but that’s more than enough time for the moaning to start outside the bathroom.

  “Is that Chase?” I hiss.

  “Who else,” she replies.

  “What is he doing?”

  “What or who?”

  “Wait, really? I was guessing he was— you know, doing things to himself.”

  Mimi rolls her eyes, “Chase never does anything he can get a girl to do for him.”

  When Mimi drags me out the bathroom door, she grumbles, “Avert your eyes.”

  I try not to look but I do.

  Chase is lounging alone on his enormous king-sized bed. He wears boxers and nothing else. One muscled arm is draped over his head. His other hand holds his… tablet. He’s reading something on it and has books and papers scattered around him.

  “What’re you doing?!” Mimi gasps.

  “Studying,” he grins. “I could use some trig tutoring, if you guys have a minute. It’s… really… hard…” he purrs suggestively and his sultry voice is like the Pied Piper pulling my eyes straight to his—

  I can’t decide if he’s referring to his abs, which are deliciously carved in hard angles, or his—

  “Put some clothes on, Chase,” Mimi snarls. “Let’s go, Mary.” She yanks me out of the room, pausing long enough to throw Chase’s dirty towels in his face.

  “What was that for?” he chuckles, catching them with ease.

  “For you to clean up after yourself.”

  I have a vague idea what she’s talking about and an increasingly less vague suspicion she’s either into him or they’re hooking up. Or both. Mimi is certainly beautiful enough with those long legs of hers, her slender body, and her runway-ready face.

  What I can’t figure out is whether Chase was serious about me. I mean, I don’t want him to be, he’s just a manwhore, but I’d be flattered if he was. Don’t tell any feminists.

  On our way out of Chase’s room, Mimi and I pass a bunch of gawking Fundy boys. They hoot and holler but Mimi plows past them with our cleaning cart, knocking boys aside like upscale bowling pins as we make our way to the elevator.

  <(—)>

  “Ugh! Can you believe him?” Mimi asks.

  “Who, Chase?” I whisper.

  “Who else?” she says bitterly.

  “What’s the tea on him?”

  “Oh, let me tell you. If rumors are true, he’s slept with everyone at Castle Hill.”

  “Even the teachers?” I snicker.

  “Them too.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I don’t know,” she laughs.

  “What about you?” I blurt it out before I can stop myself.

  Mimi blushes guiltily.

  “Is that a yes?” I titter.

  “That’s an I wish.”

  “Who doesn’t,” I chortle.

  The two of us are lying in our beds with the lights off. As soon as we got back from cleaning the West Wing and gave our key to Ms. Braunschott, Mimi showed me the bathroom and shower situation and hooked me up with towels and toiletries. Bar soap and government issue shampoo-plus-conditioner in one refillable bottle with no la
bel. Mimi explained there’s a huge jug in the Convent Exchange if I need free refills, or I can buy my own from the salon using my stipend when I start earning money. I don’t care because I have no hair and free is better than prison. We both took quick showers.

  After, while Mimi studied in silence for three hours, I wrote in my journal, jotting down copious notes about today’s craziness. Who knows, maybe someday, I’ll write a novel about my experiences here, only I’ll make everyone vampires and werewolves. Like, obviously, Rob and his friends are savage werewolves who live in a forest stronghold, while Prince and his are stylish vampires who live in a gothic castle, and they’ve had a blood feud going for centuries when little old me stumbles into their clutches.

  I also made a list of the beautiful boys I met today, starting with the Poor Boys:

  Alpha = Rob

  Red = Skill

  Giant = Jonah

  Wicked Eyes = Tucker???

  I’m not sure about Tucker because I haven’t met him yet, but I just know he’s him.

  Then there’s the Rich Boys:

  Prince

  Duke

  Chase

  For the heck of it, I listed the Silicones because every vampire story needs some bitchy witches as the villainesses, and they’re perfect for it. I can totally see them magically cursing the main characters and making things generally miserable for the peasants or whoever.

  Elizabeth Morgan-Hearst

  Victoria the Vicious Bitch

  Jacqueline the Jackess of Heartlessness

  When I finally put my journal away a half hour ago, Mimi was still studying, so I went to bed then. By the time she turned her desk lamp off and climbed under her covers, I was dozing under my scratchy wool blanket and dreaming I was back in Chase’s bathroom, just me and him.

  A minute ago, Mimi’s bedtime questions about Chase and the ensuing gossip tugged me reluctantly awake.

  Now, I say, “Is Chase always like that? Hitting on every girl he meets?”

  “Yes! What is wrong with him?!” Mimi groans. “He’s like a walking hard on!”

  “Aren’t all boys?” I try not to picture Chase walking around with his boxers off, but he was pretty much doing that in my dream, so it’s hard not to.

  “I know! But Chase is always in your face with it.”

  “With it?” I snicker.

  “I mean,” she laughs, “you know what I mean!”

  I giggle guiltily, trying not to picture that either.

  Mimi starts laughing with me, and it’s this easy joyful laugh I envy. I can’t remember laughing like that since I was little. It’s so loud she covers her face with her pillow to muffle the sounds. Her laugh slowly fades to a sigh and she puts her pillow behind her head. “I’m so glad you’re here, Mare Bear. It was getting super lonely all by myself. It’s about time I have a bestie.”

  “Yeah,” I mutter, careful not to let myself like Mimi too much too soon. Every time I make a friend, I’m always saying goodbye soon after. I tell myself if I don’t make friends, I don’t have to say goodbye. It’s been that way since I lost my parents. If all goes well, I’ll be here four years, unless I do something stupid and get kicked out. Or Mimi gets kicked out for whatever reason. You never know. I hope we both stay. It’d be nice to put down roots for once.

  Mimi is breathing evenly across from me.

  It’s soothing and I slip into slumberland.

  That night, I dream.

  About boys, about friends, about my parents. We’re gathered in a summer park somewhere, all of us having the perfect picnic. The beautiful boys are ever so easy on the eyes. Everyone is laughing because Lucille Ball and Carol Burnett are there getting up to their usual unladylike and wacky shenanigans and we’re all having fun and wearing white suits or dresses and summer hats, floppy straw for the women, rigid straw skimmers for the men. The day and the fresh lemonade never seems to end, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say it was heaven.

  It’s the best most restful sleep I’ve had in forever.

  Chapter 19

  The tea about me, Mimi, and Chase alone in his room last night quickly boils over the next morning and the resulting rumors “Chase” us (ha, ha) all week like wild hyenas biting at our ankles. Getting my school books and locker assignment (our textbooks are huge and so is campus and there isn’t time between classes to go back and forth to the Convent to switch out books so we get lockers), and getting to classes on time every day while avoiding the rampant rumors is almost more than I can manage. The only time it lets up is when Mimi and I are cleaning in our French maid outfits. Who thought that would be a relief? Turns out it is.

  The Chase rumors aren’t the only ones making the rounds.

  Guess who broke up Monday night, aka my first day here?

  Duke and Victoria.

  Guess who gets the blame?

  Me.

  The gutter slut. The kissing cancer cunt. Mary Mugshot.

  Guess who’s gunning for me? That’s the big surprise. According to the rumors, Duke and Victoria both have it out for me. We’ll see who hunts me down first to exact their revenge. From what I’ve heard, they’re going to slit my throat in my sleep and dump my body in a ditch somewhere in the hills around campus so the coyotes can eat me.

  We’ll see about that.

  I’m happy to report no one kills me by the time Friday rolls around. I’m not happy to report first period PE blows! Because guess what? Not only do Mimi and I do the maid thing every night while the Fundies eat in the luxurious Palace Dining Hall in the converted chapel building (while us work-study maids eat after cleaning in the dingy Convent Commissary, aka The Cave because of its awful ambiance), we maids also have to get up at 5:00am every morning to vacuum classrooms and offices!

  Going to gym class after that is completely unnecessary, but according to our PE teacher Mrs. Boobuster (her name’s actually Mrs. Gillespie, but I swear she’s doing everything in her power to bust our boobs in the name of perfecting our volleyball skills), you can never get too much exercise. Or boob bouncing because I’m not wearing a sports bra the first day of PE and it is a painful experience, let me tell you. After a while, I try to move as little as possible. Luckily, Mimi has a spare which she shares and I hand wash it every night in the communal Convent bathroom and hang dry it on the cross bar in our little jail cell window like Mimi does hers.

  Do we get access to the campus’s full-service laundry facilities like the Fundies get for their clothes? No, we hand wash. If I ever get transferred to the laundry department, I told Mimi I’ll maybe accidentally not on purpose ruin a few Fundy clothes.

  Anyway, it only takes a few days before I’m waking up exhausted every morning. And they don’t serve coffee! Not to the work-study kids, anyway. It’s forbidden. I’m always seeing the Fundies sauntering around with those Castle Hill Cafe cups in hand. It turns out they have a shop here on campus and in downtown Castle Hill, which I have yet to see, because guess who isn’t allowed off campus? The work-study kids.

  I told you this place is jail.

  Not complaining, but come on! When you’re surrounded by entitled rich kids who get everything they want, get to do anything they want, and get away with social murder, it’s just a teensy weensy bit annoying as fucking hell.

  Don’t let my glibness fool you.

  It’s just for my journal (which you’re reading now).

  During the day, the Fundies really do make my life a living hell and the Poor Boys (I’ve heard some of the Fundies calling Rob and his friends that) aren’t helping. Rob and friends may’ve saved my life the night I ran away, but they haven’t done shit since, not that I’m expecting them to, but it would be nice. I’m not holding my breath. Life has taught me that people are never there for you for long. I’m used to it.

  Azzie is always trying to be supportive during drama class, but I’m not buying whatever she’s selling, and I avoid her whenever possible.

  The one person who is making a huge difference is Mimi. I’ve st
arted calling her Meems, and she’s always calling me Mare Bear. Some of the other work-study girls have started calling us M&M because the two of us are always together giggling when we’re working or in our dorm room studying or wherever. Ms. Braunschott has come pounding on our wooden door almost every night telling us it’s lights out and to shut our mouths. We’re gaining quite the reputation.

  Thursday night we’re gossiping about boys until 1:00am even though we have class in the morning. A loud pounding on our wooden door scares the F out of both of us.

  “OPEN THIS DOOR NOW!” Ms. Braunschott commands.

  “We’ll be quiet!” Mimi pleads.

  “I’VE HAD ALL I CAN STAND!”

  “We’re asleep!” I laugh.

  “OPEN UP YOU TWO, OR I WILL BREAK THIS DOOR DOWN MYSELF AND MAKE YOU PAY FOR IT!”

  “Okay!” Mimi grouses and hops out of bed. “I’m opening it!” She opens the door and Ms. Braunschott fills the doorway, she’s so big.

  “Get your things, Miss Angerman!” she booms. “Now!”

  “What things?” I ask, suddenly frightened.

  “Your everything! Your books, your clothes, your uniforms!”

  This can only mean one thing.

  “What?!” Mimi gasps. “You can’t take her! She didn’t do anything! It was me! I was the one keeping her up! It was all my fault.”

  I’m grateful Meems is taking the blame, but I’m shaking under my sheets and scratchy wool blanket. I’d do anything to keep sleeping here, but it’s past that.

  “You can’t send her back to jail!” Mimi is crying now. “She doesn’t deserve it! I’m the bad apple! Throw me away! Not her!” She’s sobbing so hard I start weeping.

  “Calm down, Miss Barker,” Ms. Braunschott admonishes. “There’s no need for hysterics.”

  “Yes there is! You’re taking her away!” Mimi is down on her knees, pulling on Ms. Braunschott’s wrist as if it’ll make a difference. It won’t, but I love her for trying.

  Exasperated, Ms. Braunschott says, “Miss Angerman is not being expelled. I’m moving her to another room as far from yours as possible. You have shown you cannot keep your mouths shut after curfew. This is what you get for ignoring the rules. Miss Angerman, get your things. I don’t have all night.”