by R. A. Smyth
“This is your welcome pack.” The secretary says, interrupting my thoughts and handing over a folder of documents. “There is a copy of your schedule along with your locker number and a map. Here is your lunch card which can be used in the lunchroom and at any of our coffee bars on campus. Your father has already put money on it and you will be notified when it runs low. The only thing that needs finalising are your extra-curricular activities. Your father didn’t tell us what your hobbies were.”
“I was thinking I would give track a try.”
“Okay, there are a few spaces left. Don’t you want to do anything else? Most of our students get involved in two or three activities outside of the classroom. Last year all of the students in our graduating year went on to Ivy League schools, and in order to achieve that you need to have a varied and diverse college application. It’s never too early to start preparing for your future.”
Is this woman for real? I’m seventeen years old, just lost my mum and I’ve been dumped in not only a new country but a whole new social class of people that I never ever expected to find myself amongst.
University has never been an option to me. I’m not even sure if it’s something I want to do. While universities at home are a fraction of the price of American colleges, I couldn’t afford to only work part time for three or four years. A school education would be sufficient enough to get me a decently paid full-time job that would enable me to look after myself without scrounging for every penny.
So, no, I’ve never entertained the notion of receiving a higher education, never mind going Ivy League. Is this how every child in Crescentwood is raised, to focus everything on getting into an Ivy League school? If so, we are not going to see eye to eye on much.
“Eh, yeah with everything going on at home right now, I think it’s best not to take on too much.” It’s not a total lie, she just doesn’t know that when I refer to ‘everything going on at home’, I’m not just referring to dealing with my mums’ death.
“Ok that’s understandable, hopefully, you will consider adding more to your schedule next semester. For now, you better get going, you don’t want to be late to homeroom”.
Thanking her, I leave the office and head in search of my locker before the bell rings. The halls are busier now with kids milling around getting stuff from their lockers and catching up with friends before the school day starts.
Fishing my locker number out of my welcome pack, I start the hunt for locker number 245. It takes a solid ten minutes of wandering around until I find the correct locker. All the while, looks, and whispers follow me around the hallways - I’m guessing there aren't many new kids that start in the middle of the semester here - but no one offers me any help or even a friendly smile. What a warm welcome.
Having finally found the right locker, I discover my next problem when I can’t get it opened. I'm banging on it and pulling on the handle when a body drops onto the locker door beside mine, causing me to jump.
Looking over, I see a gorgeous, tanned skin, blonde hair, blue eyed Adonis leaning against the locker with his arms crossed, showing off his large biceps and broad chest. What seventeen-year-old looks like this? I have to remember to close my mouth so I don't drool. The Adonis must know what’s going on in my head though, as a cocky smirk slowly spreads across his face, and, damn doesn’t that raise goosebumps over my arms and send heat through my veins.
“Vandalising school property already?" He asks in this mesmerizing, deep voice. Coming back to reality, I realise he has spoken to me.
"What?” I mumble distractedly, my brain taking its sweet time kicking into gear in the presence of this gorgeous specimen. “No, of course not, my locker is banjaxed.”
He gets this adorable wrinkle between his eyebrows as he looks at me in confusion, "It's what?"
"It's banjaxed, broken. It won’t open for me”.
"Well, why didn't you just say that? Here, let me give it a go," he offers, reaching out to grab hold of the handle. With a solid yank, the door pops open as though it was never stuck in the first place.
"Wow, thanks!” I exclaim knowing I would have been here all day trying to open the locker myself.
He gives me a smug look that would make anyone else look full of themselves, but makes this guy look hot as fuck. “I’m Barrett, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m Sophie,” I respond, smiling seductively at him. They just don’t make guys like this back home. I’m no blushing wallflower and I sure as shit would climb him like a tree right now if we weren’t in public.
Leaning in closer to me, I can smell his aftershave, which smells like the open water and seaweed and makes me feel lightheaded, or maybe that’s just the increased rate of my heartbeat at his heady scent and nearness.
He leans in so he is whispering in my ear and I’ve all but stopped breathing at this point. Damn, my panties are soaked and it’s not even ten a.m. yet.
"Yes, Sophie Montgomery,” he whispers knowingly, “We know all about you Montgomerys,” sneering over the name Montgomery. “You better watch your back around here.”
With that cryptic statement, he strolls off down the hallway with his hands tucked in his trouser pockets as though he didn't just confuse the life out of me.
I quickly snap my jaw shut as a blush of embarrassment and anger crawls up my cheeks. What the hell was all that about? Does he know all about the Montgomerys? Well maybe he can enlighten me because I know nothing about Robert or his family.
They might make the boys here hot as fuck, but they sure as hell could do with a personality transplant. The bell rings, breaking me out of my thoughts. Crap, now I'm going to be late.
Chapter 6
By the time I’ve found my homeroom I am definitely late. As I open the door, all eyes turn my way. Ignoring them, I face the teacher who is a well-dressed elderly man with thinning grey hair.
“Hi. Sorry I'm late, I got lost.”
"You must be Sophie, I'm Professor Martin. You can call me Professor Martin, or Professor. Not Prof. or Mr. M or some other ridiculous nickname.
“We don't accept tardiness here in Crescentwood Prep, but I’ll let it slide since it's your first day. Don't let it happen again. Now go take your seat so we can continue.”
Looking out over the classroom. I recognise Barrett in the back corner of the room beside another guy who looks like the dark version of his hot twin. Where Barrett has that bright, light surfer boy look, this guy is all brooding and darkness. He's got black hair that's cut short on the sides and longer on top, all of which frames a sharp, cold looking face that has a straight nose and broad chin. Sitting side by side, he looks the complete opposite of Barrett, with his open, smiling face and messy blonde hair that is styled to look like he has just rolled out of bed.
Unfortunately, the only spare seat in the room is in front of the guy sitting beside Barrett. Just my luck.
Sighing, I head towards the open seat. I hadn’t planned on crossing paths with Barrett again so soon. I still don’t understand what he meant by what he said earlier. Ignoring them, I sit down in the chair and pull out a notepad and pen.
Sitting in my seat, waiting for the professor to start, I hear the guy mutter to Barrett, “Man, you said she was a ten but I'm not so sure. She looks anorexic. I need a good set of hips to hold on to when I'm slamming my dick in a chick.”
Barrett, the dickhead, just laughs at his friends’ antics. Bunch of shitheads.
Thankfully the professor starts talking then, cutting off the assholes behind me, and preventing me from getting in trouble for punching them on my first day.
"Alright class, now is the time to focus on any extra-credit work, prepare your college applications, and research what schools you want to apply to. It's never too early to start on these things so get on with it. In silence.”
Having nothing better to do, I kick back and take in the other students in the room. I quickly realise there is a divide between the six students in the back row and the rest of the room.
It's not obvious, but every now and again I see students look back at the last row with envious or flirty looks on their faces. Subtly taking in the back row out of the corner of my eye, I don’t see anything that makes these six students stand out. There is an air of confidence around them, as though they are untouchable, however, everyone around here walks around with an abundance of self-assurance. Is that what happens when you have more money than you could hope to spend in a lifetime?
I don't get the opportunity to take in any more before the bell rings and everyone starts to pack up their belongings and shuffle towards the door. Before I can stand up, a shadow looms over my desk and I find myself penned in by the asshole that was sitting behind me, and damn does he smell amazing up close, like cloves and firewood. I have to physically hold myself back from dragging in a deep breath of his sweet smoky scent. He would think I’m unhinged if he caught me smelling him.
Bringing myself back to the current situation, I realise that while I was fantasizing about sniffing him, he has been glaring at me with his cold grey eyes and cruel expression that is certainly anything but friendly.
He drags his eyes slowly down my body while continuing to sneer at me. "I don't know what you and your dad are up to, but you have made a huge mistake moving here, and we are going to do whatever it takes to get rid of you. So don’t get comfortable, we’re coming for you.”
I just glare back at him. I have no idea what he's talking about but I'm sure as shit not going to let this fuckwad intimidate me.
He glares back at me until Barrett interrupts, “Preston, man, come on, we can't be late for Ms. Harrison's class, you know she's a ball-buster when it comes to tardiness.”
With that, Preston storms out of the room, closely followed by Barrett, who turns around to give me a wink before striding through the door and out of view.
Now that all the testosterone has left the room, I can finally breathe again. What was all of that about? It's starting to become clear that the students of Crescentwood Prep know more about Robert and why he's here than I do. They also seem to think I’m in on whatever my father’s plans are. If that’s the case, there is no way I will ever become friends with anyone here. I guess I'm just going to have to find out what Preston and Barrett know about my father.
The late bell rings to remind me I'm supposed to be finding my next class, and once again I'm going to be late. This day just keeps getting better and better.
Pulling out my schedule, I see I have American History next, a subject that I have never in my life studied. Ask me about the Irish Famine or the Troubles of 1969 in Ireland and I could recite what happened off the top of my head, but I haven't the faintest idea about American History. Excellent, this class should be great fun.
Once again arriving late, I can hear the teacher talking but she stops as soon as I open the door.
"About time you joined us. My class starts promptly and I do not appreciate you barging in late and disrupting us all. If chatting with your friends, or checking your insta-book or face-page, or whatever social media nonsense you kids are into these days is more important to you than being on time, then you shouldn't bother showing up at all,” the teacher scolds. “I’m Ms. Harrison, now are you capable of sitting down without causing further disruption or would you rather stay behind for detention after school?”
The rest of the class is sniggering behind their textbooks as I quickly mutter my apologies and scurry towards an empty seat at the far side of the room and hastily collapse down into it. Is this day nearly over? I'm exhausted already and it isn’t even lunchtime yet.
"Alright class, before we were so rudely interrupted,” the teacher says, glaring in my direction as though she hasn’t embarrassed me enough already, “we were talking about the Prohibition Era. Miss Montgomery, when did the Prohibition era begin?” She asks, looking at me expectantly.
"Eh, I... Emm, I’m not sure,” I confess reluctantly.
"Couldn't even hazard a guess, Miss Montgomery?” She questions, annoyed with my lack of knowledge, “Well, how long did the Prohibition era last for?”
“Emm, thirty years?” I completely guess.
Sighing in exasperation, Ms. Harrison, finally coming to the realization that I have absolutely no clue, answers her own questions ”No. The prohibition era spanned a thirteen-year period, from 1920 to 1933, and comprised the period in history when the production, importation, transportation, and sale of alcohol was illegal. I suggest you do some extra studying Miss Montgomery if you want to pass my class.”
With my face bright red, I slouch down in my chair, while the other students murmur to each other and cast glances in my direction. I don't think I’ve ever been so thoroughly embarrassed. Peeking out from under my lashes, I see Preston smirking at me from the other side of the room. Bunch of rich assholes.
I’m half way through the class, lost in my own thoughts and not listening to the teacher, when a note lands on my desk. Quickly snatching it up and leaning back in my chair so I can open it up discreetly underneath the table, I start to read.
You look hot as fuck. I can’t wait to watch you choke on my dick as my –
“Miss Montgomery? Miss Montgomery!” The teacher interrupts, raising her voice to get my attention. “Am I boring you?”
Snapping my gaze back up to her, I see she is making her way down the aisle towards me, having seen that my attention was elsewhere. Before I can do or say anything, she is standing in front of my desk.
“Is that a note?” She demands, having spotted it underneath my table before I could hide it. “Since whatever it says is clearly more interesting than what I was discussing, why don’t you share it with the class.”
“Oh, eh, I really don’t think-”
Not giving me time to finish my sentence, Ms. Harrison snatches the note out of my hand and casts her eyes over it. I can’t do anything but watch as her cheeks turn pink, out of anger or embarrassment, I’m not sure.
“Miss Montgomery,” she cries in outrage, “I don’t know what was deemed acceptable behavior at your last school, but this sort of language is not tolerated here in Crescentwood Prep. Detention this afternoon and if I catch you doing anything other than schoolwork in this class, you will be going straight to the Headmaster’s office.”
Having thoroughly reprimanded me in front of the entire class, Ms. Harrison scrunches up the note and returns to the front of the room to continue her lesson.
Fuck me, could this day get any worse?
My own cheeks are flushed with mortification. Did I say earlier that I had never been so embarrassed in my life? Well I take it back. This just trumped it, and I’ve a feeling there are going to be even more humiliating moments in my not-so-distant future.
Casting my eye around the classroom, I take in the other students, but everyone is focusing on the teacher at the front of the room. No one is looking my way. What the fuck was that note? And who the hell sent it?
◆◆◆
Thankfully nothing else happens for the rest of the morning and eventually the bell rings for lunch. After stuffing my textbooks in my locker, I follow the crowd towards the lunchroom.
Entering the hall, I see that this is like no school canteen I have eaten in before. It is a large, spacious room with glass all along one wall, showing an outside patio area and the green lawns of the school grounds and forest beyond. Large wooden tables and chairs, each table seating six or eight people, are spread out around the room and there is a buffet-style dining area on the other side of the room comprising a large choice of hot and cold food options, a salad bar, and even a dessert bar.
There is even a machine that dispenses every type of fizzy drink you can imagine. There are flavours I didn’t even know existed like banana yoghurt, gingerbread and pumpkin pie. Hell, there is even ketchup flavour soda, who the fuck drinks that shit?
My mouth is salivating at the smell of all the food. Completely starved, I don’t waste any time getting in line, where I find a menu of the hot food options a
vailable today. I don’t know what half the words mean, the menu is like a whole different language. Picking the safest sounding option, a halloumi burger with sweet potato fries, I head over to the dessert station – who could say no to dessert – and lift a chocolate brownie before approaching a computer screen where you type in the food that you lifted and scan your lunch card.
Once I’m done, I look out at the rest of the lunchroom, trying to decide where to sit. Not wanting to dilly-dally and look any more awkward than I already do, I quickly head towards an empty table at the back of the hall and take a seat.
Once I’m settled and eating my way through my fries, I start to look around me at the other students sitting and eating with their friends, laughing at whatever gossip and stories they are sharing. I feel like a total outsider. I knew I would be. I've never really fit in anywhere and I didn't expect it to be any different here, but I can’t help wishing it was.
I’m not embarrassed to be sitting by myself; I’ve never had friends to sit with. It sucks though, now that I’m not spending my days working or looking after mum, I could make friends. Just my luck, I’ve landed in school where I’m a pariah.
The worst part is, I don’t even know why. No one has spoken to me all morning, except for Preston and Barrett, and whoever sent me that note. The other students just ignore me. Even after I tried in some of my morning classes to talk to the person sitting beside me, they just told me to shush or flat out pretended to not hear me talking to them.
I spot Preston and Barrett across the room at a table in front of the large glass window, offering its occupants a view of everyone within the lunchroom. Between the view outside and being visible to the entire student population, that is probably the best table in the hall, hence why the popular kids have claimed it as theirs.
Taking in the rest of their table, I notice the other four people who were sitting in the back row of homeroom. Preston and Barrett are sitting talking to each other, ignoring everyone else at the table. In Preston's lap is some girl I don't recognise who is trying her hardest to get his attention by shoving her tits in his face, but Preston is too caught up in his conversation to notice. On the other side of Preston is another guy, I think I heard someone calling him Kurt in homeroom.
