Hillcrest Academy

by Cassie Pierce

  Angels— much like the ones who guarded the gate are everywhere. In every available space on the building they sit like silent protectors. I gulp as I take it all in. Fate is really having a lot of fun with this angel thing!

  “It’s beautiful,” I say as I take a step closer. My eyes greedily drinking in every detail of my new home. It is oddly silent, and I notice with weariness that we seem to be the only ones outside. Which is weird.

  What kind of teenagers aren’t roaming the grounds at night?

  “Where is everyone?” I finally question aloud as I turn back to Ryker and Jaxon. Ryker looks like he wants to say something, but the asshole beats him to it.

  “Curfew here is dark sweetheart, so they are in their rooms. No one goes out after dark.”

  The way he says it— not in a teasing way, or even in a way meant to scare me. He says it as a warning, and for the first time since my mother’s taillights disappeared into the darkness, I am afraid.

  Something is not right about this place.

  “Jaxon,” Ryker cuts in, laughing in an attempt to break the ominous mood that Jaxon’s words created. “Stop messing with the poor girl. You already made her walk up a two-mile hill. Give it rest a....brother.” He seethes, his voice dropping to a hiss at the end.

  It is the first time since meeting Ryker that his friendly facade cracks, giving me a glimpse of something much darker beneath. I rub my hands over my arms in an attempt to chase away the chill that settles over my exposed skin as the two brothers stare each other down with something that can only be described as hatred. I take a step away from them, the sudden animosity between them making me wonder how fast I can run in my heels?

  “BOYS!” Her voice slices through the night, ringing with authority and an undercurrent of rage. It whips through the darkness as the massive doorway to the school bangs open, slamming against the white stone wall. She steps from the shadows into the light, but even in the light my fear of her does not change.

  My new head mistress is scary as hell.

  Her mouth turns down in a frown, and beside me both of the boys have gone deathly still. Even the crickets, who chirped a soft southern song moments before, have retreated from her presence. I swallow my fear as she steps closer to us. For about a second I think about reaching over and grabbing Ryker’s hand, but I quickly push the thought away. I have never needed a boy to save me before, and I be damned if I am going to let some pretentious principal with control issues change that.

  “Sorry mother,” they say in unison, and I would be lying if I said the whole psycho-stepford-son vibe thing didn’t freak me out. Just...a...little.

  She completely ignores them, rushing forward and clamping her cold hand down on my warm arm with more force than necessary. I gasp as her skin connects with mine. It’s ....so....cold.

  I have never felt such cool skin before. Well....at least not on anyone alive.

  I push the thought away, refusing to let her artic touch pull me back to Ashlee’s funeral. To the way she looked— so still and lifeless, laying on display like a broken doll. To the way she felt— so cold and empty. No.....

  “Get your shit together Maci,” I say to myself as I concentrate as hard as I can to bring myself back to the present. I don’t have to concentrate for long. She begins to haul me forward, and I have no choice but to follow.

  It is pretty much follow or hit my face on the ground.

  She remains silent as she pulls me up the stone steps and through the door. Jaxon and Ryker follow behind us. Neither one of them saying a word. Which is funny, since neither one of them have shut up since I met them.

  I stare in stunned silence as the interior of the academy greets me in all her splendor. Her beauty momentarily making me forget all my reservations about being here.

  “Wow!” I breathe as I turn to take everything in. The entire school, at least as far as I can see, screams regal. Everything is polished to perfection, from the curved marble staircases that make up each side of the room, only to connect into a grand balcony that overlooks the foyer. The banisters are also a white marble, but little flecks of gold and silver are mixed into the mineral. It’s.....beautiful.

  I take a deep breath, trying and failing to hold in the tear that escapes as I take everything in. I never cared about money, even though I always had plenty of it. I was always fine with the simple things in life. Ashlee.....Ashlee was the one who loved everything flashy.

  She...she would have loved this.

  Ashlee.

  Her ghost follows me no matter where I go, or how far away from New York that I run. She is everywhere. The guilt that I feel for that night staining everything that I touch. Without my consent I am pulled back to that night, like I often am when I allow myself to give in to the silence.

  My head hurts..... like really hurts as a light more intense than anything I have ever witnessed floods the mangled ball of metal that was once my car. Blood drips into my mouth, but I am too weak to wipe it away. I almost choke on the metallic tanginess of it as it makes its way down my throat. I try to move.....to scream, but something important must be broken, because nothing will work. Not my voice, and not my body.

  It is almost like I am floating, watching everything from above as it happens in real time. Helpless to stop it. Helpless to do anything. I just hover there, above my broken and bloodied body waiting on the inevitable.

  Then I see him...or rather his eyes. Dark like thunder clouds on a stormy summer day, they latch on to me. He reaches out, running a finger softly over my increasingly chilling cheek. He catches a tear-drop as it falls, looking at it like it confuses him.

  It confuses me too. When did I start crying? I don’t remember crying.

  He opens his mouth, softly chanting words that transcend my understanding. The language is both familiar and foreign, but it comforts me. He.....comforts me.

  His golden-brown waves hide his face as he leans down, kissing my forehead and whispering the words that changed my life. Words that I still struggle to understand. Words that I tell myself I made up, because being crazy is easier than being right.

  “Spirit to spirit I bind thee to me, so that you may live for all eternity. Your mortality has been released from this world. Arise Maci, daughter of Michael. May you embrace your true self, so that you will never suffer the pains of humanity again.”

  ∞

  “Maci?”

  “Earth to Maci?”

  “Princess?”

  It is Jaxon’s raspy voice that finally pulls me from the dark memory. I blink, noticing for the first time that he is now standing so close that we are practically sharing air. His large hands circle my shoulders with a gentleness that I would never have expected from him. His eyes stare into mine, and I gasp as the realization slams into me.

  His eyes.....

  How did I not see it before?

  It was him. The.....the angel from my accident. It was Jaxon. He was there. The night that death stole Ashlee and returned me differently.

  “It was you,” I whisper. His eyes flash with understanding, and something....more. I open my mouth, ready to ask the two million questions that have haunted me since that night. Starting with, what in the hell did he do to me?

  I never get the chance. His lips move quickly, and his words are rushed and too low for me to hear. I hear his mother as she gets closer, demanding to know what is wrong with me. Demanding that he move away from me.

  He doesn’t listen.

  My world starts to spin as everything grows fuzzy. His eyes flash with worry, and maybe regret before darkness drags me under.

  Then there is nothing.

  ∞

  ~Chapter 4 ~

  I awaken hours later with a killer headache, and a severe case of confusion. The room that I find myself in cold and un-familiar. I am just blinking my groggy eyes open, when a pair of rich brown eyes invades my space. I jump, frightened by the sudden intrusion.

  “Shit! Personal space.....ever heard of it?” The sarcas
tic remark flies from my lips before I can contain it, not that I would have tried. Sarcasm and I are sort of a package deal. A two for one special if you will.

  “Right....sorry,” the girl with the big creepy eyes says as she slowly inches away from me. “I forget that hum.... that some folks like space.”

  Her voice is soft with a southern twang that is more than the standard Alabama accent that I have encountered so far. Her big brown eyes blinking at me wearily as she rings her hands together nervously. Large bracelets jingle on her tiny wrist with the movement.

  “Crap....Where are my manners. My name is Candice. Candice Jo McCain, but you can call me C.J.” She holds her hand out to me as she says it, and a laugh tumbles out without my permission.

  I’m not laughing at her...per say, more the total contradiction that she seems to be. C.J. is by far the most country person that I have ever met, but you wouldn’t know that by looking at her. She looks like she just stepped off of a runway. She is that beautiful.

  I guess in my small mind, I always assumed that the more country the person the less teeth they had, but that is an assumption that this girl just blew out of the water. From her soft mocha skin that seems to glow under the fluorescent light, to her long wavy hair that falls softly to her shoulders, C.J. is absolute perfection in female form.

  And yes....despite having the most country twang I have ever heard, she has perfect teeth.

  “Are you laughin’ at me?” she gripes, and I quickly stop my fit of inappropriate laughter. I mean...I was laughing at her, but I somehow do not think telling her that is going to help. Instead, I focus on what is important.

  “No....sorry,” I say as my eyes rake over the room for the first time. It is an average sized room with two twin beds, each pushed against a wall. The bed that I am lying on is covered with an unfamiliar yellow comforter, and I secretly cringe at the bedding choice.

  I hate the color yellow. It reminds me of pee.

  The walls are a soft cream, and the other side of the room is covered with twinkle lights and posters of..... sweet Jesus— are those cowboys? I blink my eyes, and sure enough, shirtless cowboys of every size and color stare back at me.

  C.J’s cheeks tint pink as she realizes that I have noticed her secret obsession. “Ok,” she says with a sigh. “I might as well just throw it all out there, since we are going to be roomies and all. Yes. I am obsessed with hot cowboys. I have been ever since I dated Daryl. He was one fine.....”

  Her voice cuts off when I raise my eyebrow at her, and she waves a dismissive hand in my direction. A soft laugh slips from her as she continues. “Right. Not important. Anyway, I am not like the other rich assholes that attend Hillcrest. Most of them are what we call Legacies, meaning that......”

  “I know what a legacy is,” I interrupt her. If she finds the interruption rude, she doesn’t let on. She just keeps talking, something that I am quickly discovering that she does....a lot. I smile as she rambles on, finding that I quite like my new roommate. She is honest and real, in a world that is anything but.

  “Of course. Well, I am just plain old C.J. My parents work at the school. My mama is a math teacher, and my step-dad teaches history. I like cowboys, chocolate cake, and old movies. I hate polyester, vegetables, and mean people. That is pretty much me in a nutshell.”

  I smile, throwing my legs over the side of the bed. I offer her my hand, deciding since she was so open with me, I can give her something. After all, we are going to be sharing a room for the next year. It only seems fitting that we try to at least be civil. I am not looking for a friend.... not after everything, but C.J. seems like someone that I could at least tolerate being around.

  “Sorry I was rude earlier. I have had a shit day. I am Maci. Maci Madison.”

  She eyes my out-stretched hand for a moment before laughing and pulling me into an awkward hug. The movement surprises me for two reasons. One.... I don’t usually hug people that I don’t know. Two..... I don’t usually hug people at all.

  There are two types of people in the world. Huggers, and anti-huggers. I am by definition an anti-hugger. So, I kind of surprise myself when I momentarily give into her hug, before awkwardly stepping away.

  “Already forgotten,” she says stepping away from me and going to her side of the room. My eyes trace her movements as she goes to her closet and disappears inside. A few seconds pass before she peeks her head out, calling out to me.

  “So....now that the introductions are over. You care to tell me what in the world you did to rile up Jaxon Lux like that? I swear girl, I have known that boy since he was knee high to a grasshopper, and I have never seen him as flustered as he was when he brought you in here.”

  “Lux? Jaxon’s last name is Lux?” I question as she steps out of the closet holding a red and black plaid uniform in her hands. She hands it to me before disappearing back into what I can only assume is our shared closet.

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” she laughs as she walks back out with a blazer that matches the color of the uniform she just handed me. “That is yours by the way. The headmistress had them sent the day before yesterday,” she says nodding to the uniform clutched in my hand.

  “I guess I just assumed it was Worthington......”

  C.J.’s laugher cuts me off as she steps into the closet and begins to change into her own uniform. Hers is an exact match to mine, but she makes it her own with a pair of doc martins and fish net tights.

  I swear...she is so odd. I have never met a country goth before. I guess there really is a first time for everything.

  “The head bitch isn’t their real mom. Their real mom died when the boys were seven. She married their dad, but she chose to keep her born name. Something about refusing to minimize her power. I know right,” she says with an overdramatized eye roll. “Talk about being full of yourself. Anyway, the triplets are all Lux’s.”

  Wait a minute....triplets?

  “There are three of them?” I exclaim in shock. My mind trying to find the similarities between Jaxon and Ryker, but coming up empty. They look nothing alike. They act nothing alike. Hell, if it weren’t for the fact that Ryker himself said that they were brothers I probably wouldn’t believe her.

  “You better get changed. Breakfast is in thirty minutes, and if we miss it, we don’t eat again until lunch,” she says pointing at my uniform as she bends down to lace up her boot.

  I stop talking then, quickly throwing on my uniform and trying to do something with my crazy hair. A shower would have been nice, but I guess it will have to wait. If there is one thing that will always get me moving it is the promise of food.

  A few minutes later I stand in front of the mirror, looking out of place in my perfectly pressed uniform. My hair falls in soft waves down my back, thankfully behaving for once. I scan the floor around the bed, smiling to myself when I spot my beloved heels. My smile expands when I see that the mud that marred them is no longer present.

  “Thanks for cleaning them,” I say to C.J. as I place them on my feet. There is just something about wearing your favorite shoes that makes you feel like you can do anything.

  C.J.’s eyes shine with confusion before she says, “I didn’t. They were clean when you got here. Now come on. Today is bacon day. We cannot miss bacon day!”

  I laugh as I follow her from the room. She all but runs out of the door, and I cannot help the laugh that escapes me.

  Note to self— do not come between C.J. and her love for bacon.

  ∞

  We thankfully make it to the cafeteria in plenty of time for C.J. to get her bacon. I use the term cafeteria loosely, because the dining hall as it is officially named, looks more like a five-star restaurant than a high school cafeteria. The tables are square, and each sits about eight people, but they are all covered with fancy white table cloths. They even have wait staff...freaking wait staff on hand.

  The room is full of teenagers, but since everyone is dressed the same no one really stands out. Most are sitting in small groups, tal
king quietly amongst themselves. I find it kind of strange how well behaved everyone here seems to be. It may be a fancy prep school, but it is still high school. There should be some kind of drama.

  It isn’t until we are seated and C.J. has inhaled about four pieces of bacon that I dare ask my next question. A question that has been on the tip of my tongue since she first told me about the triplets.

  “I had the pleasure of meeting Jaxon and Ryker yesterday. Who is the third?”

  I ask with a curiosity that cannot be contained. It is like some part of my soul has to know more about the famous Lux brothers. Jaxon in particular. I may be crazy. That is a definite possibility after all of the shit that I have been through lately, but I know what I saw. Jaxon Lux was there the night that Ashlee died. The night that I am fairly certain that I died. It cannot be a coincidence that I ended up here, at the very school that his family runs.

  Fate maybe, but coincidence. No way in hell.

  C.J. opens her mouth to answer, but before she can her eyes get as big as saucers and her face loses about two shades of color. It almost looks like she is about to throw up her precious bacon, and I don’t understand why until his voice cuts into our conversation.

  His voice is soft, but I know without looking that there is nothing soft about him. “Why don’t you ask me yourself new girl?”

  Now I know why C.J. looked like she wanted to throw up. The final Lux brother is standing right behind me.

  FML.....

  Even though every part of me rebels against it, I force myself to turn around. I silently curse my bad luck as I prepare myself for the owner of that voice. I mean really....Why is it that every time I talk about someone they are always standing right behind me?