by Kat Cotton
Scholarship Girl
Shadow Academy
Kat Cotton
Published by Kat Cotton, 2019.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
SCHOLARSHIP GIRL
First edition. August 18, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 Kat Cotton.
Written by Kat Cotton.
Also by Kat Cotton
Clem Starr Box Set
Clem Starr Demon Fighter Box Set: Books 1-3
Clem Starr Demon Fighter Box Set - Books 4-6
Clem Starr: Demon Fighter
Demon Child
Moonlight Virgin
Vampire Prince
Undead Alchemist
Super Starr
Merry Clem-mas
Mystery Widow
Harajuku Crows
Millennial Mischief
Shadow Academy
Scholarship Girl
The Carnival Society
Smoke, Mirrors and Demons
Demonic Wheel of Death
Demons, Hell & Damnation
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Kat Cotton
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Also By Kat Cotton
Chapter 1
Ren Worthington is a pus-filled boil on the buttocks of society.
That’s what I’d stupidly written inside the back cover of my trigonometry book. The very book that was not in my backpack.
If I didn’t find the book, I could dig my grave now. I’d be handing out ammunition and painting a target on my back. I’d end up like that kid who’d “accidentally” fallen into the school moat. And all he’d said was that Ren Worthington was no Justin Bieber.
Not many of the other students at Edgewater Academy shared my thoughts on Ren Worthington. Most of them thought Ren Worthington was more like the sun shining out of society’s buttocks. The absolute worst, most bully-attracting crime you could commit in this school was not considering Ren Worthington a god.
Stay under the radar, don’t attract attention. Be invisible. Those words had been my mantra for the past two years. I couldn’t screw all that up now.
I upended my backpack on my bed, hope in my heart that I’d just overlooked it.
Five other text books, a ton of stationery and a couple of overripe bananas but no trig book.
The hope in my heart died and left a nasty ache behind.
Rushing to the wardrobe at the end of my bunk, I tripped over my shoes and kicked them across the room. It might be in there. It just might. Wishful thinking, since I’d just been using the book in math class five minutes ago.
I pulled out my clothes, my shoes, all my meager possessions. Nope. Nothing.
The dull ache in my stomach grew. I’d left it in the class room. And I needed to find it. Now. Before someone else did.
I rushed from the dorm.
“Cherry!” My dorm mate Polly yelled. “Clean up that mess before you go.”
“Later.”
A messy dorm meant black marks for all of us, but right now I had more pressing issues.
Before I hit the back stairs, I stopped, cursed under my breath, and ran back to the dorm. I’d been halfway through changing out of my uniform and still only wore a bra on top.
I threw on a t-shirt and my favorite hoodie then opened the drawer and swept all the mess off my bed. I’d sort it out later.
I stumbled down the stairs. Tripped. Grabbed the hand rail before I went flying. Lucky. I needed luck. I needed all the luck in the world.
If I found that book, I’d rip off the back cover. Shred it and destroy it. I’d never let my thoughts leave my head and take material form again. In my head, they were safe from prying eyes.
I must’ve left my book sitting on my desk, or under my desk, or somewhere near my desk, and I needed to get it back before anyone else found it.
I had ten minutes to find it, save my life and get to the meeting. Being late would get me another black mark, one for every minute. Too many black marks meant expulsion — and I skated way too close to that edge as it was.
Where the heck had I put that book? Why the heck had I put those words into writing in the first place?
Frick. Frack. Bollocks.
The book wasn’t on my desk or in the shelf under it.
PMS, that’s why. PMS combined with Ren’s stupid face. The Ren fan girls at this school called his face a national treasure. More like the face you see on a wanted poster, a face with the cold eyes of a serial killer. I had no idea what they saw in him. I guess having bottomless pits of money made any face much more attractive.
The last straw had been the sneer on that “national treasure” face. I’d been called up to answer a question on the board. I didn’t ask to be called up, did everything I could avoid it. It wasn’t my fault Ren had tried and failed. I’d been tempted to fail myself, just make one tiny error. Stay under the radar. But my hand didn’t obey and I’d got it perfectly correct.
A sneer from Ren Worthington could cause a hundred annoying bullying tactics from his stupid minions. Anything from being tripped over in the dining room with a tray full of food to having nasty surprises dumped in your bed. Ren didn’t even have to lift a hand to make my life hell.
He might not be smart at math but when it came to getting others to do his bidding, Ren was a genius.
I searched under my desk, in case the book had slid out of my backpack. But nope, no book under there.
My blood hammered through my body. Maybe someone had seen it and set it on the shelf.
I’d just stood up when I heard his voice in the hallway, as though my thoughts summoned him. That drawling voice everyone thought was so soothing and wonderful. Then someone else, more high pitched. Oscar. Probably both Blake and Oscar. The golden trio with Ren as their leader. Blake provided the muscle and Oscar... I’m not sure, maybe comic relief.
They would not be heading in here. No way. But why were they even in this part of the school when classes were over?
I jumped away from the shelves and slid back under the desk. I couldn’t risk being seen.
That crappy old desk might not provide adequate cover for most people, just a wooden top with spindly iron legs. For a fancy academy, we sure had low-rent classrooms. But that desk threw shadows, and I could hide in the shadows like no one else. That’s how I’d survived a string of foster homes, that’s how I survived at this school. I blended in, undetectable, becoming a shadow myself.
The door creaked and my heart hammered.
I folded the bulk of me up into as small a ball as possible, wrapping my hoodie over my knees, staying within the shadowy bounds.
As a little kid, I’d thought I was just really good at hiding, like some kind of hide-and-seek genius. Eventually
, I worked out it was more than that. A preternatural ability. A pretty lame one compared to the other scholarship kids but it came in handy.
Their footsteps drew closer.
“What do you think?” Oscar snickered.
Ren snorted as though the question wasn’t worth an answer.
“Come on, she’s hot stuff. Surely you've considered it.” Blake’s voice put me on edge.
“Britney.” Ren’s voice dripped with condensation. “Can you see me with a girl named Britney? Commoners date girls named Britney.”
They were discussing the new girl. But why do that in an empty classroom?
“You could call her by a nickname. Like Petal or Kitten.”
Ren snorted again. “A nickname wouldn’t disguise her lack of class. Is her hair color even real? And the way she dresses, too loud and attention-seeking. Another poor-as-dirt scholarship girl to mar the place. How that girl scored a scholarship, I’ll never know. No brains, no breeding, no taste. Maybe she gave special favors to the scholarship committee... but she sure won’t survive until graduation. I can read her future. Knocked up by sixteen, working as a pole dancer at a roadside strip joint to support her pile of brats by twenty.”
I pressed my nails into my palms. Nothing about Britney said she’d end up as a stripper. And no woman should be talked about like that. I wanted to slam my fist into his face. A right hook for looking down on women. A left for looking down on pole dancers. Another right for looking down on single moms. Rich kids like him never considered that when you had an empty belly, you played the cards you’d been dealt.
So far, I’d only caught a glimpse of Britney but everyone had been talking about her. A new girl starting semester a week late made big news around here.
She’d been waiting in the hallway outside a classroom. I didn’t want to join the sea of faces staring at her but, when I’d turned my head, she showed none of that newbie awkwardness. I’d have been all beetroot red and avoiding stares but Britney beamed a smile and scrunched her hand into a tiny wave, like a beauty pageant winner. With her face, she’d be used to attention. I picked her as a scholarship girl immediately. Her white blond hair and pale skin already set her apart but she had an ethereal beauty that said she wasn’t fully human.
She’d be at the meeting and I’d find out more.
“I wouldn’t mind being the one to knock her up.” Blake across the room, coming closer to me.
“I wouldn’t want to plant my seed in her, but I’d pay good money for a lap dance.” Oscar chuckled. “Hey, do I have to wait for her to get knocked up before she strips for me? Maybe I could offer her a few bucks now. Everyone knows those scholarship girls will do anything for money.”
I dug my nails in deeper. I held my breath. I wouldn’t say a word, and I wouldn’t swing my fist. The metal desk leg dug into my back and the wooden floor chilled my butt but I’d stay here perfectly still until they left.
“At least she’s better than the last one.” Ren scoffed. “Cherry Love, even her name is a joke. That girl lost her cherry a long time ago.”
Blood pounded in my ears. I wanted to kill him for saying that. I’d fought long and hard to make sure none of those shitty foster dads got near my cherry. And I sure as hell didn’t want Ren Worthington thinking about my girl parts. People laughed at my name all my life but still it grated, especially from Ren Worthington.
“Great tits, though.” Oscar paused. “What...? Well she has. Don’t say you’ve never looked.”
I practiced the deep breathing exercises I’d learned in anger management class, not easy when you’re trying to stay silent, and prayed those bastards would leave quick smart. I didn’t have time for this, and why the hell where they hanging around in the math room anyway?
“You got it?” Blake asked.
Got what? Hopefully not my trig book. Their rich boy legs moved closer to the desk. All perfectly pressed pants with the dry-cleaning smell still on them. No secondhand uniforms for them, no hanging your uniform over the radiator to get it dry for class the next day.
“Yeah, I’ve got it.” Ren’s laugh chilled me.
Ren rummaged in his pocket and pulled something out. From my position under the desk, I had no idea if it was a bag of high-grade cocaine, an assault weapon or his penis.
“Whoa,” Oscar said.
It could be a wad of Ren’s belly button fluff and Oscar would still be impressed. Everyone knew Oscar had a massive man-crush on Ren.
“Put it away.” Blake tapped the toe of one foot impatiently on the floor boards. “If you get caught with that, not even your daddy’s money will protect you.”
Something metal clinked on the floorboards. A ring rolled across the floor, landing way too close to my knee. Sweat broke out on my body. Even if they couldn’t see me, they could hear me or sense the warmth of my body if they got close enough.
Ren bent down, his face coming into view.
I didn’t blink. I didn’t breathe. I tried to hold myself perfectly still.
He reached out for the ring, his hand coming way too close to my knee. Almost grazing my skin. I couldn’t pull away, not without risking exposing myself.
For a second, his gaze locked onto mine. The usual coldness in his eyes turned to something else, they seemed to sparkle. I could swear he saw me, but that was impossible.
A glint of light hit the ring as Ren’s fingers curled around it.
My heart chilled.
That ring. Farran Quiller’s ring.
Everybody knew his ring. He never took it off. Ever. Not when he showered, not when he slept. Not when they made us do those stupid cross-country time trials in the middle of winter when everything got caked in mud.
He got constantly teased. “Take it off and give us a look,” someone would say in almost every class.
Farran didn’t know my mantra. He didn’t stay under the radar.
But then everyone in this school had things from home, small mementos. I guess if you actually had a family, and that family cared about you, you’d want to think about them. Like my best friend Lucas with his wolf plushie that he hid in his wardrobe.
I had nothing from my parents, nothing except a weird mark on my hip. Not a ring or a photo, not even a chewed up plushie.
Why did Ren have Farran’s ring? I’d have to discuss this with Lucas in the meeting. The meeting that started in... yikes, two minutes’ time.
I couldn’t leave, not until Ren and his creepy friends did. The forest of legs around me moved away but they hadn’t left the room.
“What’s so special about it?” Oscar asked. “Dude loves the heck out of that ring. Is it super valuable?”
“Nothing.” Ren’s voice sounded flat. “Nothing at all. It’s cheap silver. Old but not expensive old. Maybe Farran was just a weird freak.”
“No maybe about it.” Blake laughed. “We knew that for sure.”
“What are you going to do with it?” Oscar asked.
I didn’t hear Ren’s answer just a muttering from the hallway. They’d left. I hoped. It could be a trap.
Only when their footsteps echoed down the hallway did I climb out from under the desk. I could make it to the meeting in time, if I ran really fast.
They’d definitely left but — huh? My trig book now sat on my desk.
My stomach tightened as I picked it up. That had not been there before.
Maybe it had been a trap. Maybe they’d seen me come into the classroom, followed me in and tried to be as offensive as possible, taunting me to lose my shit. Typical Ren trick. He’d report me to the principal then put on his innocent face and be all “Cherry is scary and violent” but laugh as they escorted me off the school premises.
Thank goodness for anger management.
I gave myself fifty points for not falling for it then grabbed my textbook. Before I fled, I couldn’t resist flipping to the back. I needed to scrub out that line.
But someone had already erased it.
Society is a pus-filled boil on th
e buttocks of Ren Worthington, it now read.
What the hell did that mean? No time to think. I had one minute to get across campus.
Chapter 2
I rushed into the scholarship room, panting and sweating, and slid into the empty seat next to Lucas.
To keep our activities secret, we got assigned a space at the back of the building where most of the older classrooms had been turned into store rooms.
A cracked window made the room even colder than normal. Edgewater Academy might look impressive with its ancient stone walls and Gothic architecture but there were things more important than a fancy facade. Like central heating. The sun barely penetrated most of the classrooms and even in summer, you could get hypothermia if you weren’t careful.
For the meeting, the guys had set up the folding table and chairs. The crappy chair creaked as I threw my weight on it.
Looking to the front with a grin meant to appease, my gaze met empty space.
“Where’s Mr. Norton?”
“Not here yet,” Lucas said.
Yes. I almost punched the air. No black mark today.
I let out a sigh as I sunk back in the chair. In this room, I could be myself; my snarky, mouthy self. No need to wear the mask of politeness I wore the rest of the time. The ragtag bunch of students on the scholarship program might not be my friends but they were my people.
“I’ve got to tell you something important, after the meeting.”
Lucas mumbled without really answering.
“Are you listening to me?”
No, he wasn’t. That drooped head and the way he rubbed the back of his neck meant one thing, and one thing only. It was then I noticed her across the table from me. Britney. The rest of the guys were being less subtle, openly staring.
I shot her a smile. I’d been the only girl in this group for way too long.
The sea-green sun dress she wore matched the color of her eyes. How was she not freezing to death?
I’d have to tell her about my ‘stay under the radar’ mantra, although with her hair and skin, that might prove impossible. Not only did she have a natural radiance, but Britney was lithe. That was the perfect word to describe her. I wasn’t lithe. I was... I guess the word was lithe-less. Even the cheap fold up chairs wouldn’t creak under her weight.
