by Jacie Lennon
It’s weird to be the object of their unabashed perusal. I’m not unattractive; I know this about myself. But I also usually fly under the radar. I’ve had a fair share of guys interested in me, but this is a different level. I feel like a specimen they are studying. So, I study them right back.
My eyes skate over the three but land on Corbin. He’s my conundrum. He’s quiet, and he glares a lot, but I swear he feels what I feel. I see him watching me when he doesn’t think I’m looking. How he stood up for me against the twins. The way he placed his hand on my leg the night before. I can still feel the handprint on my thigh, and I glance down for a moment to see if there’s a burn mark where he seared me. There’s tension between us, but maybe it’s hate. But not from me. I don’t know him—I don’t know any of them—but you can learn a lot from observing people.
“Landry,” Mom says as I walk into the kitchen. “How was your swim?”
“Fine,” I answer while grabbing food to make my second breakfast.
“Oh, hello, boys. Just who I wanted to see.” She smiles at them as they take their seats at the island. “Landry needs to run to town and pick up her uniform. They are holding it at—”
“Can’t.” Brock stands, his reply hanging sharp in the air as we all fidget in the silence that follows.
“Oh. Okay. Bodhi?” She turns pleading eyes his way, and Bodhi’s glance ping-pongs between my mom and Brock.
“Yeah, sure.” His smile doesn’t meet his eyes as he looks at me while Brock stalks out. “Corb and I can.”
I can feel Corbin’s eyes on me, but I don’t look at him.
“Perfect,” Mom trills, and I try not to roll my eyes at her silly tone.
Let’s calm it down there, Linda.
Bodhi sidles up next to me, pulling a pan from underneath the stove and taking the egg carton from my hands. With a crooked smile, he cooks some scrambled eggs, and I wash the fruit, placing it on the cutting board.
For a group of guys who dragged me from my bed last night to interrogate me, they are being a little too nice now.
Well, except for Brock.
Corbin takes some plates down and fixes three glasses of water while Mom hovers in the background.
“I was thinking we could head out tomorrow for some shopping. You will wear a uniform while at school, but you’ll need new clothes for the weekend.” Mom does her best to smile, and I wrinkle my nose.
“I brought all my clothes from home.”
“Well, yes. But don’t you want a new wardrobe?”
“Not really, no.” I shrug and pop a strawberry in my mouth.
“Most girls I know would kill for a shopping spree,” Corbin says.
I whip my head to look at him. I find it odd that he would weigh in on something like this.
Maybe he’s just trying to start over.
“Guess I’m not most girls,” I say, frowning.
“How big are the campus closets?” Mom leans over the counter to ask.
“Campus closets?” I frown in confusion.
What is she talking about?
“Yes, of Almadale Prep. Students stay on campus during the school year.”
I guess I should have done a little more research before I moved.
“They do?” I turn to Bodhi. “We do?”
He pours the eggs out onto the plates waiting with fruit on them and passes them out. We all dig in.
“Yeah. They say it fuckin’ ‘fosters a sense of community,’ ” Bodhi says with full air quotes.
“Language, Bodhi,” Mom says, a scowl on her face.
“Sorry, Mrs. M.” He gives her a wink, and the woman full-on blushes.
“A sense of community? As if the one-percenters aren’t fully engrossed in their own ‘community’ to begin with?” I air-quote back and scoff.
Bodhi snickers. “We are some exclusive motherfu—”
“Bodhi,” Mom warns again. “Besides, not all of your classmates are in the one percent. Almadale has a scholarship program that is quite generous. In fact—”
“That’s enough,” Bodhi says, his forkful of eggs stopping halfway to his mouth, and his usually jovial face drops into something a tad more menacing.
“Oh.” Mom’s hand flies up to her chest as she takes in the shift in the room.
“When do we move in?” I ask quickly to change the subject, still curious as to why the mention of the scholarship set Bodhi off.
“Friday, so we have one day to get you ready,” Mom says with a smile, doing her best to recover.
I nod. “Man, you aren’t playing around,” I mutter, already tired from thinking about trying to get ready and move again in a short amount of time.
“Don’t worry; there are enough games at Almadale to keep us busy,” Corbin butts in.
Bodhi laughs, but for some reason, it sends a chill through me.
5
Landry
I woke up this morning, a little anxious at the thought of moving again and meeting my roommate and classmates. Last night, I’d repacked my bags, folding everything from my shopping spree with Mom, where she’d bought more for herself than for me.
“Everyone ready?” Mom asks, standing on the front porch as she watches the boys load their bags while I lurk behind them, clutching my three suitcases.
Suddenly in front of me, Corbin reaches for my bags, his hand overlapping mine. “Need help?” he asks, his voice low.
I watch his chest rise and fall before lifting my eyes to his lips, where they are pressed together as he waits for a reply. I move my hand before I realize what I’m doing, placing it on his pecs, and his muscle jumps underneath my fingertips.
“Bro, what the fuck?” Brock asks.
Corbin quickly steps back, looking around as if he didn’t know where he was.
Same.
Corbin reaches down and grabs my bags, hoisting all three at once and throwing them in the back of the car with ease. I could stare at his arms doing that all day.
After saying good-bye to Mom, I climb in the back of Brock’s SUV with a wave, and immediately, my stomach rolls.
Brock’s heated stare is on me in the rearview mirror, and it’s not a good type of heated. He still dislikes me, and for what reason, I don’t know.
Almadale Preparatory Academy is an hour away, and so far, thirty minutes into the drive, we’ve been listening to Bodhi’s off-key singing to fill the silence.
“Dude, shut the hell up,” Brock says, cutting a glance at Bodhi, who glares back.
“Don’t hate me ’cause you ain’t me,” he says, changing the song on his phone.
“Bad Guy” by Billie Eilish plays across the speakers, and Bodhi immediately launches into the lyrics, the three of us cringing outwardly. Corbin shoots forward and flicks the volume control down. His sudden closeness sends the scent of his cologne washing over me, and I inhale as quietly as possible.
He avoids me, I know that, but I don’t know why. He would be sitting up front if Bodhi hadn’t called shotgun as soon as we walked outside. Corbin’s scowl sends a weird pang through me. I don’t know why I want to figure him out, but I do. I catch him watching me at odd times, an undecipherable expression on his face. He glances away as soon as he sees me turn toward him, but it’s happened multiple times, so I know it’s not a coincidence.
“So, I got my roommate assignment,” I say into the quiet as Corbin sits back. I hold my phone up as I read the name in the email I received this morning. “It’s Beatrice Northcutt.”
The car stays quiet for a moment, and I notice eyes glance toward Bodhi.
“Ah, Trixie. Bodhi’s one true love,” Corbin says with a grin, and I can’t take my eyes off his face. He glances over at me, and the grin drops. “What?”
“Do that again,” I say, voice almost at a whisper.
“Do what again?” He frowns, and I lick my lips.
“Smile.”
“Aw, Landry likes your smile, Corb,” Bodhi says as he turns around, blinking his eyelashes at us, and I flush
.
I don’t know what came over me.
“Shut up,” I growl, and he snickers. “Do not.”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Bodhi says, and I move, socking him in the arm. “Is this our first fight?” Bodhi asks, and I can’t help but grin at him.
“So … you and Trixie, huh?” I turn the tables on him.
Brock chuckles, and I swing my gaze to him before he goes quiet again.
“Nah, she has a boyfriend. One who isn’t this freak.” Corbin hooks a thumb toward the front, and Bodhi turns around to give him the finger. “Ah, they had a thing freshman year. Then, she ghosted him, and he has never recovered.”
“She didn’t fuckin’ ghost me.” Bodhi pouts.
I lean forward. “Tell me more,” I say, really getting into the story.
“We’re here.” Brocks gruff tone cuts into the fun.
I look outside. It’s a very remote and woodsy-looking area.
Pulling up in front of a gate, much like the one guarding the Montgomery house, Brock pushes a button on the key fob in his car, and the gate rolls open. I wonder if all the students get one to be able to open the gate.
We pass the guardhouse, the officer inside giving a small salute to the boys as we continue through. After a short drive down a paved road with large trees looming on either side, the school rises in front of us, huge and Gothic-looking. It reminds me of a cathedral with the way the stone building looms over us. The spires reach to the sky, and the arching stone windows down the length of it lend a haunted quality. It gives me the heebie-jeebies.
I shiver a little, and Corbin glances over at me.
“It’s worse than it looks,” he says.
I shiver again. I’m not sure I’m ready for Almadale Prep.
“Oh, shut up. Quit scaring her,” Bodhi says, and I turn wide eyes on him. “It’s not that bad.”
“Like hell it isn’t,” Corbin shoots back.
“We are the kings,” Brock says.
My eyes open wider. “You are what?”
“The Three Kings.”
“You call yourself the Three Kings?” I scoff.
Brock finds my eyes in the mirror. “No. Everyone calls us the Three Kings. Girls’ dorm. Get out,” Brock says, holding my gaze.
I square my shoulders. “Someone should teach you some manners,” I mutter.
He shoves open his door, stalking to the back. He pulls out my bags and throws them on the ground. Corbin and Bodhi are silent, and I nod, realizing who they will side with. I open the door, climbing out before Brock can speed off with me hanging halfway out.
Douche bags.
“Hate you too,” I say to their taillights, and then I stare up at my dorm.
Two girls walk out and give me a once-over. I’m standing there with my bags in the dirt, and they raise their eyebrows at each other before walking away, glancing over their designer-clothing-clad shoulders to study me again. I lift my hand in a little wave that they don’t return.
I sigh and bend down to pick up my bags, shuffling them around until I realize I can’t get all three of them at once, so I decide to take two in and come back for the third. I pull the key I received in my welcome packet from my pocket and note the door number—312. I shoulder one bag and pull the second behind me as I make my way inside. I look around the ornate interior, and it seems more like I’m in a creepy mansion than a dorm.
“Thank fuck there’s an elevator,” I say to myself as I spot the silver doors, the one modern-looking thing in this building. I climb on, hit the number three, and rest my shoulder against the wall with a sigh.
The ride here was normal until Brock threw his little fit. I wish I knew why he didn’t like me. But I think I won’t find out until he’s ready to tell me.
So, maybe never.
The elevator dings, and the doors open to my new home. I am met with a lounge full of posh furniture, presently occupied by who I figure are my new classmates. They turn to look at the door, staring when they meet a face they don’t know. Mine.
“Um, hi,” I say to the entire room and … crickets.
Great.
I struggle to get my bag off the elevator, and not a manicured hand is lifted to help me. I quickly stride past the lounge and find my door. I forcefully insert the key and then push.
“Oof,” comes from behind the open door.
I panic as my hand wraps around the edge, and I slowly inch it forward. I just attacked my new roommate.
“Oh my—oh no, I’m so sorry.” I drop my bags and step around them to open the door more.
My eyes widen as I take in who I assume is Beatrice. Even with a red mark starting to blossom on her forehead, she’s beautiful. Her blonde bob looks edgy and fun on her pixie face that somehow holds the exact perfect ratio of eyes, nose, and lip size. No wonder Bodhi is in love with her.
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t know you’d be behind the door, or I wouldn’t have pushed that hard. Um, why are you back here?”
“Promise you won’t laugh or run away, screaming?”
“Nope,” I say, smiling.
“Good enough,” she replies, a grin stretching across her face.
She closes the door, and I snort, catching sight of what she has set up. A doll that rivals Chucky in looks is sitting behind the door, propped up on a small little box, and I grimace.
“That’s terrifying,” I say.
She covers her mouth, giggling. “I know, but I can’t get rid of it. It’s my good-luck charm.”
“Really?” I turn her way, and she nods solemnly. “We are going to have to sleep in here with that thing staring at us?”
“I’ve got to keep it here,” she says adamantly.
“Okay. Why are you putting it there?”
She pauses a moment and looks the doll over, cocking her head to the side before giving a curt nod.
“Don’t tell anyone, but I think I’m going to hide it in the closet,” she says, picking the hideous doll up.
“Good plan.” I cross my arms around my stomach and shiver a little.
“It’s harmless though,” she says, laughing and holding the doll out.
“I don’t even want to touch it. I think it might be possessed.”
I watch her delicately set it in the closet, and then she turns around, holding her hand out.
“Landry, right?” she asks.
I nod, sticking my hand in hers, giving a firm handshake. “Beatrice?”
“Oh, call me Trixie. Everyone does. Beatrice was my grandmother,” she says, releasing my hand and moving to sit on the edge of her bed.
“Cool, Trixie.” I stand there awkwardly, fidgeting with my hands.
“So, you are the twins’ new sister?” Trixie leans back, pulling a pillow across her stomach and hugging it.
“Word travels fast,” I say.
She laughs. “We have a phone tree.”
“Seriously?”
“No.” She snorts.
I cross to sit on my bare mattress. Third bag be damned, this might be my chance to get answers to my questions.
“So, the guys, they are kind of mysterious,” I prompt, gauging her reaction … and I’m not disappointed.
She busts out laughing and doubles over. “Says you and all the girls here. Make no mistake, every female in this place would kill to be in your shoes.”
“Even you?” I lean forward and notice that the smile drops off her face pretty damn quickly.
“I’m the exception,” she murmurs, and I sit back.
Interesting.
“Why are you the exception? Not interested in the tall, dark, and brooding types?”
Her eyes take on a shuttered expression, and I immediately feel bad for asking.
“I have a … boyfriend,” she says, putting an end to that line of questioning. “What about you? Do you like the tall, dark, and brooding boys?”
“They are my brothers,” I say.
Only two of them. I don’t want to let on that my la
dy bits might be feeling kind of weird around Corbin these days.
Trixie scoffs and throws the pillow at me. “They are not your brothers.”
“Might as well be,” I exhale and glance out the window.
“Oh? Do tell.”
Trixie pats the mattress, and I climb on, lying back beside her. We both stare at the ceiling.
It’s weird how comfortable I feel with her already. The guys’ cryptic words about Almadale Prep seem very misconstrued now.
I think I’m going to like it here.
“In a nutshell, Brock has nothing to do with me, Bodhi calls me sis, and Corbin just stares intently. All the time.” I end the sentence with a spooky voice.
Trixie giggles beside me. “Yeah, you about summed them up.”
“Good to know they don’t treat me any differently then,” I say sarcastically.
She sits up. “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat.”
I get the distinct impression that she doesn’t want to discuss them anymore.
“Perfect. I’m starved. I have one more bag to grab downstairs though.”
I follow Trixie out of the room. She waves at a few girls she knows but doesn’t bother to introduce me. I’m not sure if I’m offended or relieved. I’m not scared to meet people, but having so many eyes on me at once is disconcerting.
“Do you have your schedule yet?” I ask Trixie once we are on the elevator.
“Yeah, hold on,” she says as she pulls out her phone, looking up her classes. “Chemistry II, History IV, American English, and a free period. What about you?”
“History IV, Calculus II, free period, and then American English. Damn. I was hoping we’d have a class or two together. I—shit.”
“What?” Trixie peeks over my shoulder as I hold the door to the dorm open, my eyes taking in the scene in front of me.
My bag is open, the contents strewed across the ground in front of the dorm.
“Of course it was the bag with all of my underwear,” I moan and rush forward, picking up my lacy bras and panties as fast as I can.
Trixie bends to help me, picking up clothing items until both our hands are full. I locate my bag behind the hedges that line the building, obviously wedged in there so I would have to look for it.
