by Jacie Lennon
“None of your business,” I say, and he scowls.
“Everything you do is my business,” he says, and then it’s my turn to scowl.
“Get lost,” I say, pulling my bag toward me and unzipping it. Before I can get to my book, Bodhi has wrenched the bag from my hands, holding it out of reach. “Give my bag back right now.” It’s like I’m dealing with children who are acting out when they don’t get their way.
“Answer our questions,” he says, his infuriating smirk in place.
“It’s not your question collectively,” I say, eyeing each one of them. “It’s a pissing contest between Corbin and Peter. There’s no need for it. We are only studying.”
“Believe me, he’s not just studying,” Corbin says, casually leaning back and glancing to where Peter is paying for food. “I don’t like it.”
“Well, guess what. I don’t care.” I quickly jump up and manage to snatch my bag back from Bodhi, who raises his eyebrows.
“Damn, you are quick,” he says, and I smirk back at him.
“He’s coming back. Leave us alone.” I pull my textbook out and place it on the table in front of me.
Peter walks back up, smile gone from his face as he sees the three boys still sitting at the table.
“They were leaving,” I say, smiling sweetly at him, but he nods, not making any moves.
It’s crazy how much these three run the school. I didn’t believe them when they first told me, but after seeing firsthand how everyone does what they say, it kind of blows my mind. Money has power whether you want it to or not.
Corbin, Brock, and Bodhi slowly get up, staring Peter down the whole time, and I watch as his face morphs into a grimace. They walk off, Corbin shoulder-checking Peter, and then they loudly pull out chairs at the table next to us before sitting down, still staring at our table.
Fuckers.
I glare at them, knowing they did it on purpose, but they smile back. They have the upper hand, and I realize they probably always will.
I smile up at Peter and pat the chair that Corbin was sitting in, smirking at him when Peter sits down.
“Now, what exactly do you need help with?”
We pass the time by reviewing the literature that’s been assigned for the past month, going over story structure and finding the deeper meanings in the works.
Peter’s essays have been lacking, so I look over some of his, helping where I can, and before I know it, I realize I’m having fun and laughing with him. But even so, I catch my mind and eyes drifting to Corbin, who is angrily staring at us. Serves him right with how he treated me. He doesn’t deserve my laughter or forgiveness, so I desperately try to pull myself back to the moment with Peter.
“Landry?” he asks, and I glance up from where I was marking a sentence on his paper.
“Hmm?” I ask.
He’s looking at me weird.
I cock my head to the side and raise my eyebrows. “What’s up?”
“Can I ask you something?”
All at once, my heart soars, but my stomach drops. For someone who has only known the friendship of Trixie and the hateship of the kings while I’ve been here, the possibility of making another friend—or something more—leaves me feeling elated. But again, I jump to memories of Corbin—touching me, talking to me, making me come—and I have to shake my head.
Forget that he’s right next to you and focus.
“Sure,” I say, setting the paper down and giving Peter my entire attention.
I take the time to peruse his face. Brown eyes; aristocratic, straight nose; and high cheekbones. He’s got lips on the thinner side but a beautiful smile that would make any girl’s panties melt. He’s a good guy, it seems, none of the bad-boy charisma that I’ve been around lately.
I watch him glance over his shoulder for a moment, noting the guys are still there, staked out beside us like gnats that won’t leave. He leans in closer to me, crooking a finger for me to lean in as well. I oblige, and he smiles.
“Would you want to go to Fall Ball with me, Landry?”
I gasp, and behind his head, I can see Corbin sit up straighter, obviously watching me.
“Me?” I ask.
Peter smiles wider.
I’ve heard talk about the ball, knowing it’s coming up right before fall break in a few weeks, but I didn’t dare think that anyone would ask me. My track record with friends hasn’t been great here. And I’ve been on the outs with Corbin since he left me in the marina parking lot, basically with my skirt down.
“I don’t see another Landry sitting here,” he says jokingly, and I laugh.
Fall Ball. What are the odds?
“Oh. Yes,” I say, my grin wide, and he sits back a little at my answer, “I’d love to go with you.”
I’m a little breathless, almost giddy.
Get ahold of yourself.
“I’m sorry. I’m surprised, is all.”
“Hopefully, a good surprised,” he says, setting his textbook and papers back in his satchel.
“Yes,” I say, packing my bag as well.
Part of me wants to jump up and do a little dance, but I’ll save that for the room. Trixie is going to shit when she hears about this. My heart sinks a little when I realize I haven’t heard Trixie say she’s going. I’m going to have to make sure she finds a date, so we can go together.
“Well, I’ve got to get going,” Peter says, standing and throwing his bag on his shoulder. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”
“Not tomorrow,” I say with a smile.
He squints before remembering Senior Skip Day. “Right. Day after?”
“Definitely,” I confirm with a nod, probably blinding him with the brightness of my smile.
He smiles back and turns around to walk off. I stand and turn the other direction, doing a little shimmy when I know he’s not looking anymore.
Fall Ball, here I come!
Corbin
I watch the exchange Landry and Peter have while poring over an English textbook, and I’m ashamed of myself but angry that she’s with him. I don’t like seeing it, but here I am, a masochist, subjecting myself to the spectacle. Brock and Bodhi talk in hushed tones every once in a while, but I don’t pay them any mind. Content to glare at the back of Peter’s head and Landry’s profile.
She knows what she’s doing.
Finally, Peter stands.
Thank fuck. I’m ready for this little study date to end, so I can stop sitting here, blood pressure rising.
Landry looks excited about something, which pisses me off, but finally, she turns to leave, and I watch her ass shake a little as she walks away, my eyes riveted. I turn in time to see Peter stop in front of Brock. He cocks one eyebrow, and Peter, who was so confident before, looks a little nervous.
“What?” is all Brock says while Bodhi leans forward.
I glance back to where Landry went but don’t see her anymore.
Dammit. I want to punch Peter in the face, but I know I don’t have any claim on her.
“Just thought I would help you out a little,” Peter says to Brock, and this time, it’s me leaning in, trying to figure out what’s going on.
“I didn’t ask for your help,” Brock says, still sitting back, a bored look on his face.
“No,” Peter says, swallowing before opening his stupid mouth to talk again.
“But I’m slightly intrigued. What are you helping me with?”
“Landry. I know you three don’t like her.” His eyes shift around to all of us. “I’m just stringing her along a little bit with the dance,” Peter says, shrugging to look like it’s no big deal.
The little fuck is trying to get in close with us, making Brock’s enemy his enemy, and now, I’m seething.
I stand to my feet and close in on him. “What did you say?” I ask, getting in his face.
Brock stands, placing one hand on my chest, and then looks between me and Peter.
“I’ll allow it,” he says after staring at me for a second.
And I know I messed up. I showed my card, and I regret it.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” Peter says with a grin before walking away.
Brock fists my shirt. After a few hard looks pass between us, he lets go, and I smooth my front down.
Fuck. This won’t be good.
16
Landry
“Get up, get up,” Trixie says, bouncing on my mattress next to me and barely containing the glee in her voice.
Over the past month, I’ve spent the majority of my time with her. Like me, she’s been sort of a social outcast over the stupid kings. She still won’t tell me what it’s over, but I respect her privacy, and in return, she respects me not wanting to talk about what happened with Corbin.
“Today is the day.” She hops off my bed, twirling around the room in a perfect pirouette before stopping and clapping her hands.
“What is today again?” I ask, covering my eyes when she pulls the curtains back, letting the sunlight stream in.
She gasps, and I let out a laugh, letting her know I’m joking with her.
“Don’t even act like you haven’t been listening to me talk about it for the last two weeks,” she says, pulling her camisole off and donning a bikini top.
Senior Skip Day is a religion around Almadale. Every senior class does the same thing twice a year. Once in the fall semester and once in the spring semester, and all the kids act like missing it would be the greatest tragedy. Or maybe it’s only Trixie who acts like that, but even so, she’s convinced me to attend, and here I am, standing in my dorm room and putting on a bikini after eating junk and ice cream for four weeks straight. Good thing I’ve kept up with my swimming in Almadale’s indoor Olympic-sized pool.
I adjust my emerald-green top, the color reminding me of a certain set of eyes I’ve been avoiding, and I frown. It’s my favorite bikini, and it looks the best against my skin tone, so I refuse to let myself change it on the grounds of ruined memories. His eyes aren’t the only green thing in the world.
My phone dings on the bed, and I reach over for it, holding it up and seeing Mom flashing on the screen. I swipe and bring it to my ear.
“Hey, Mom,” I say while bending down to sift through all my swimsuits, looking for my bikini bottoms.
“Landry, dear,” she says, her voice trilling across the phone. “How are you?”
“I’m good, getting ready for—” I stop myself before telling her that I’m skipping class. “I’m just getting ready.”
“I won’t keep you. I wanted to see if you had some time later this week to sit down and talk.”
“Will Chester be there? You know, I still haven’t met him.”
“Oh dear, that’s right. No, he will be on a business trip. It will be just us girls.”
I finally locate my green bottoms and pull them out.
“Okay.” I think it’s strange that I still haven’t met him, but I understand he’s a busy man. “I have some free time later this week, after classes or this weekend.”
“Thursday afternoon? I’ll pick you up, and we can go for an early dinner.”
“Sounds good, Mom,” I say, smiling.
It will be nice to catch up a little. I don’t feel like we’ve had any quality time, and it seems like she’s been pulling away from me. Even when I lived with my dad, I didn’t hear from her as often as I would have liked.
Trixie sticks her head around the bathroom door, pointing to her wrist like she’s telling me to hurry up, and I nod.
“I’ve got to go, Mom. I’ll see you Thursday.”
“Okay, Panda Bear,” she says, and I roll my eyes good-naturedly. “Love you,” she chirps and hangs up before I can reply.
She’s always been kind of flighty, bouncing from one place to the next, so I guess that hasn’t changed. I’ve never really known why she and my dad split. I was younger and didn’t ask any questions, like ones that I have now. Maybe I can bring it up on Thursday.
“Damn, girl. Green is definitely your color,” Trixie says, coming out of the bathroom. She threw on a sheer black cover-up over her designer hot-pink bikini, and she slips her feet into nude sandals.
“Thanks.” I grin as I grab my bottoms and dart into the bathroom to check out the leg and downstairs situation. After a quick shave, I slip them on and add a little mascara and lip gloss.
“Come on, babe. We don’t want to be late,” Trixie says as I come out of the bathroom.
She hands me my white tasseled cover-up, and we grin at each other. A day in the sun on a mega yacht is exactly what the doctor ordered.
Sure, it might be the Montgomery yacht, but I have as much right to be on it as the boys do now. Or so I tell myself.
Pulling into the marina, I purposely look away from the shaded spot where Corbin and I parked in over a month ago. I already replay the memories every single night—most of the time when I have some me time—and then I feel angry with myself after. I can’t let it go though. The amazing feelings I experienced with him won’t ever leave me; they are just a fact of my life now.
There are cars in front and behind us, a parade of expensive luxury vehicles that stretch as far as I can see. Looks like Trixie was right, and this is part of the Almadale tradition.
“I’ve been waiting for this for three years,” Trixie gushes, and I look at her, laughing. “What? Have I already said that?”
“Maybe once or twice,” I say as we finally pull into a parking spot.
We tumble out of the car along with the rest of the senior class and join in with the herd making their way toward the yacht. As we get closer, I can see the end of it, the name Pearl written across it in proud, bold letters.
It’s breathtaking, up close. The sheer massiveness of it makes me feel tiny as I walk to the ramp that leads out over the water and onto the ship. I glance around, noting I don’t see any of the three boys, and I let my beating heart slow down a little, hoping that it stays like that the rest of the day.
Trixie grabs my hand as we cross over, stepping our sandaled feet on board and letting out little shrieks of delight that we are finally here.
“Ladies.” A man dressed in a breezy button-down shirt and relaxed khaki shorts stands to the side, holding out a tray of beverages in his hand.
We each take one and make our way to some unoccupied loungers on the second deck. The girls seated next to us briefly glance over, and then with obvious looks of disgust, they turn away from me, only acknowledging Trixie for a moment. It’s nothing new to me. I haven’t made any girlfriends beyond Trixie, and it doesn’t look like that will change anytime soon. I never dreamed that the kids would be this closed off, but maybe I don’t want to be their friends if this is how they are going to act. I have to survive one school year, and then I’m out of here.
I hear chanting on the deck below us and crane my neck to look over the rail right behind my head. Some kid is doing a keg stand. Good to know that that particular party trick can cross the class lines. I lie back down, pulling my sunglasses from my bag. After a month of tough classes and nonstop studying, I’m relishing in the rest.
I let my mind drift, thinking about my dad and how I haven’t heard from him in a while. He’s starting to become like my mom was. I’m out of sight, so I’m out of mind. I miss traveling with him. I miss sitting with him while he edits his pictures, showing me the correct way to use the light. I got to see his outtakes, the pictures that wouldn’t make it into magazines or on websites, but showcased his talent and the world around him as he saw it.
I pull my phone out. Opening my messages, I scroll down and pull up our last text conversation.
Dad: I’m in Italy right now, shooting a cover for Vogue. You’d love it here. The countryside is beautiful.
Me: I’m so jealous. Can’t wait to see the photos. I’m settling in at school. Haven’t made a lot of friends, but you know how it is.
Dad: You are strong. You are a Paradise. I raised you that way. You will make it your home before long.
Dad: Miss you, baby girl. I’ll come get you when I get back to the States.
Me: Deal.
That’s the last I heard from him—a week ago. My eyes well with tears, and I blink rapidly, keeping them at bay.
“You okay?”
I look over to see Trixie staring at me with a worried frown on her face, and I smile.
“Yeah, just missing my dad,” I say honestly, not wanting to hide how I’m feeling anymore.
“Are you pretty close with him?” She sits up, tucking a strand of short blonde hair behind her ear while swinging her legs over the side of her lounge chair, and she leans forward.
I take a sip of my drink that I forgot about, licking my lips at how tasty it is. There might be nothing better than a fruity drink on a mega yacht.
“Yeah, I am. But lately, we haven’t talked much.”
“I don’t talk to my parents much either,” she says.
A rare insight into her family life. I’m not sure she’s ever brought them up to me.
I take another drink as I look at her. “Why not?” I ask.
I watch as a cloud passes over her face. It goes from open and smiling to frowning with dark shadows in her eyes.
“It’s a long story, but we don’t exactly see eye to eye on most things.”
“That’s how I was with my mom, but now that we have lived apart for a while, I think we might be getting somewhere with our relationship. She’s coming to see me on Thursday.”
“That’s nice,” Trixie says, but I don’t feel like she’s invested in the conversation anymore.
I nod and finish my drink in one long gulp.
“This is really good,” I say, holding up my empty glass. “I wonder what it is.”
“If I had to guess, I’d say something alcoholic,” Trixie says, taking off her cover-up and lying back down.
“I don’t taste any alcohol,” I say, frowning.
“That’s how they get you,” she says, smiling and tipping her drink back. “But I’m not mad about it. I’m letting loose today.”
