“That’s horse shit!” Kade scoffs. “He knew better than to mess with me. I’d deck him with a single punch.”
“Whatever, floppy fist. Your punches are like getting hit with a cotton ball.”
Kade jumps behind my back and grabs Riley around the neck, then scrubs his knuckles over Riley’s scalp. They laugh and tussle while I stand there grinning at them. As soon as they hit the ground, they pull apart, jostling and slapping each other with foul-mouthed insults they don’t really mean.
Kade hauls Riley back to his feet and we keep walking to our room.
As we round the corner, I spot Ivan’s new target. He’s standing next to his parents, listening to the headmaster and Dean Hancock. Headmaster Williams has his happy face on today. His ginger head bobs as he smiles and shakes hands with the father. They must be loaded. Headmaster Williams only smiles that big for families willing to donate extra money to the school.
Like Eton Prep needs it.
I glance at the pretentious buildings to my right and across the manicured lawns. I didn’t grow up with opulence. Less than a year after my mother died, Dad re-married. Step Monster’s got big boobs, a slender waist and enough money to send me to an exclusive boarding school in the middle of nowhere.
I don’t care. I’d rather be here with my non-related brothers than the family that doesn’t want me.
New kid’s father pats his skinny shoulders and whispers something in his ear.
He glances up, looking miserable…and also a little determined.
I don’t know what the pep talk is about, but it’s made his jaw clench and nostrils flare. Blinking rapidly, he pulls his shoulders back and lifts his chin as Dean Hancock and Headmaster Williams flank him.
Spinning for the main entrance, the trio walks right past us. I search the new kid’s face again. I don’t know what the hell I’m searching for…and I don’t know why the hell I can’t stop staring at him.
There’s just something so pitiful about him with his skinny face and jet-black hair, cut short and combed to the side.
I force myself to turn away and follow my brothers to the side door of our dorm, but not before spotting the sheer look of dread cresting over the guy’s face. The building loomed large before him and he looked like he was entering a death chamber.
Poor guy doesn’t even know about Ivan yet.
#3:
Until That Day
Christiana
Dean Hancock talks too much.
He’s got one of those fast, clipped, no-nonsense kind of voices. If I stopped walking right now, he probably wouldn’t even notice. He’d just keep marching down the corridor telling me how Eton is the best school in the world with top athletes and Harvard-bound brainiacs.
“That’s why we’re so strict. I know it may seem unfair to have no access to technology or cell phones in your rooms, but we believe strongly that too much screen time is bad for the brain. We expect top marks from all our students, so we help them by providing the perfect environment for them to learn. Old-fashioned values are the backbone of this school.”
I roll my eyes, resisting the urge to scream and run away.
“It may seem isolating at times but that’s why we room the students together. It helps to build relationships and create strong bonds. Lifelong friendships are constantly formed at this school.” The dean glances over his shoulder, eyeing me with disapproving scrutiny. “The fact your parents have insisted you have a single room is to your disadvantage, in my opinion. You’ll have to make an extra effort to get to know the other boys on your floor. I often hear complaints about Eton being in the middle of nowhere. Well, the fact of the matter is, we practically are, which is why we must work together to create our own special world. We provide everything you need to be a successful, well-rounded adult.”
Okay, he seriously needs to stop talking now.
We turn into a long, fluorescent-lit corridor lined with doors. It’s like an upper-class prison, each dorm room a cell, inmates leaning against doorframes and watching me pass. Judging me. Sizing me up. Figuring me out.
I used to like guys checking me out. It made me feel pretty, important, wanted.
Now I feel like a lamb being lead to slaughter—skinny legs buckling, a pitiful bleat echoing down the corridor.
There’s no sympathy here.
Just curiosity.
It’s hard not to hunch over, pull my chest into a concave so they won’t figure it out.
I fidget with the short strands of hair below my ear, then remember McNeal’s stern frown. I bury my fist in my pocket and keep my eyes on the floor.
Just keep shuffling.
A movement to my left catches my eye and I glance up. Dark, narrow eyes strip me bare. He’s smug, arrogant, instantly ugly. If I were allowed to be a girl, I’d give him a look of contempt before sashaying past him. But I can’t do that anymore.
I’m not a girl right now.
He’s not going to try and flirt to win me over.