Game Changing Rules: The Elites Of Weis-Jameson Prep Academy Book 3

by Hart, Rebel

  My chest heaves with adrenaline as my eyes shoot up, finding Coach Granger’s face towering above me.

  “Are you okay!?” he huffs.

  But I’m speechless. My eyes tear up again, and I am completely unable to wrap my head around anything that just happened enough to form words. It all happened so fast, but in eerie slow motion at the same time.

  “I could have died,” I murmur breathlessly as I stare at the spot where my car was lodged just moments ago.

  “What the hell were you doing going so fast!?” he scolds, his voice booming with anger.

  In shock, I have to ask myself the same question at first. Then it all comes flooding back to me. The Elites. They did this. I thought they had just graffitied my car all to hell, but they obviously tampered with the brakes too. And possibly the seat belt.

  “Malcolm,” I stammer out finally through sharp breaths. “And the others. They keyed and slashed my car. The brakes…they…”

  Suddenly I’m overcome with the urge to bolt to the edge of the overlook to try and see my car. Coach Granger races behind me, holding my arms to keep me steady on the edge. It takes what feels like forever to finally spot it. It’s so far down it’s almost a spec, and what I can see of it is completely crushed and folded in on itself. Just as I feared when I was still trapped inside and dangling there, I would have never survived that fall.

  “Those bastards tried to kill me!” I shriek, half hyperventilating as I stare down at the mangled mess below.

  Coach Granger pulls me in tight and drags me away. He shuffles me into the passenger seat of his car. Once I’m sitting inside, I become aware of the pain shooting through my head and limbs all over again. My fingers touch lightly against the wet ache on my forehead, and when I pull them back, I see they’re bloody.

  “We need to get you to the hospital,” he says as he watches me with concern.

  “I’m fine,” I heave in disbelief.

  “Doesn’t hurt to get checked out,” he insists. “That’s a pretty nasty gash. You could need stitches. Anyway, you don’t want some hidden injury popping up next time you start running laps.”

  I laugh lightly at Coach’s focused concern on my ability to run track, even after my near-death experience. But he’s right. As much as I’d love to pretend none of that just happened, I need to see a doctor. And beyond that, my car is gone. Completely crushed and mangled. Which is just what I need as I near the end of my senior year.

  Coach drives me to the hospital for a check-up, where they determine I don’t need stitches. But they do give me a prescription of muscle relaxers from the aches and pains, which I can expect to be worse tomorrow. I’m waiting to be officially dismissed when two police officers walk into my room. Jameson police are terrifying to me. They’re corrupt and with all the changes in the structure of the Elites lately, it’s impossible to know whose side they’re on.

  “Ophelia Lopez?” one of the officers questions as Coach takes a cross-armed stance in the corner. He knows all too well about the corruption of local police and is just as skeptical as I am. “We’re sorry to hear about what happened to you today. Mr. Granger filled us in, but we’d like to ask you a few questions if you’re feeling up to it.”

  “Okay,” I answer blankly.

  He nods and pulls out a pad of paper and a pen from his coat pocket. “He told us you suspected someone tampered with your car before driving it. Can you tell us what made you think that?”

  “Ha!” I laugh out accidentally. “I didn’t just suspect it. It was obvious. They spray painted it, keyed it, and shredded the seats! I thought I could get it home to be fixed, but when I started driving…the brakes wouldn’t work. Then the seat belt was jammed.”

  “Was it an older car?” he asks suggestively.

  I have to fight back a spark of rage before answering. “What does that have to do with it? You’re saying it was just a coincidence that it was vandalized right before I discovered the brakes weren’t working?”

  He shifts his feet, looking slightly offended by my tone. “Well, if you’re so certain someone tampered with the brakes, who do you think might have done such a thing? Has anyone threatened you in any way? Someone at school maybe?”

  Once again, I can’t contain my laughter as I consider all the ways in which the Elites have threatened me since my first day at this school. I try to keep it together. My laughter trails off into suppressed snickering as I cut my eyes over to Coach Granger, unsure how honest I should be. He nods his head in encouragement, pushing me to tell them more.

  “Malcolm Henderson,” I blurt finally. “It’s a long story, but I know he hates me. Him and the whole clique he runs in.” I try to avoid using the term Elites. If these officers aren’t already bought by the new leaders of the circle, the phrase alone will scare them off from actually doing anything about this.

  “Malcolm Henderson?” he echoes in surprise. “Didn’t he and Liam Henderson just take over Jameson Automobiles?”

  “From my boyfriend, Emmett Jameson. Yes. He’s the one who rightfully inherited it,” I shoot back firmly.

  I see the wheels turning in the officer’s eyes. He perks up and tries to pin down what question to ask next. But just as his lips part, the officer behind him whispers something in his ear. They mutter things back and forth for a moment, and finally I see his pen click shut before he puts it back into his pocket along with the notepad.

  “Thank you for your time, Ophelia,” he announces suddenly. “We’ll let you know if we have any more questions.”

  I’m not surprised, but the blatant calculation of it all enrages me. They’re obviously trying to get a handle on who’s off-limits around here now, rather than pursuing all crimes and criminals equally.

  “That’s it?” I huff. “Will there be any consequences for Malcolm over this?”

  I notice Coach Granger’s eyes darken. I should know the answer to that. We had DNA evidence that Malcolm maliciously planted heroin into the hands of his recovering addict son and nothing happened to him. He’s definitely not going down for this.

  “We’ll look into it,” the cop assures me half-heartedly, already halfway out the door.

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” I grumble sarcastically, thinking he won’t even hear it. But he stops abruptly in the doorway and whips back around, looking angry.

  “Look, Ms. Lopez,” he snaps. “I understand this was very scary for you. But the fact is we have no way of proving who vandalized your car or if they were also the reason the brakes malfunctioned. There’s a big difference between vandalism and attempted murder, and we can’t make that leap with no evidence. Your car is at the bottom of a valley, completely crushed. I just don’t think we’re going to get the result you’re hoping for out of this.”

  I’m quiet as I process everything. I know part of what he’s saying is true, but I also know it all comes down to how hard they’re willing to try. And with Malcolm being the accused culprit, we all know they’re simply not going to try that hard.

  “Thank you,” I finally mutter, knowing it’s useless to argue with them. With that, he finally turns and walks away without another word. Once they’re gone, I turn back to Coach. “This is bullshit. You know Malcolm and the Elites were behind this.”

  “I’m just glad you’re okay,” he offers, his eyes still haunted by the memory of what Malcolm has put him through.

  “Ophelia! Oh my god!” my mom’s voice cries out from the doorway.

  My mom’s worried voice and face instantly remind me of the car accident that Emmett and I got into last year. I may never know what the Elites expected him to do to me that day. Whatever it was wasn’t good, and in my desperate attempts to get away from him, he slammed the car into a streetlight. And somehow that’s what led to our first kiss, right here in this hospital.

  My mom rushes over and showers me in kisses and hugs, each one causing me to wince in pain.

  “Mom! Stop!” I rasp as I cringe.

  “Sorry, I was just so worried when I g
ot the call about your accident!” She cups my face in her hands, looking down at me with a relieved expression. “Coach Granger, thank you so much for everything.”

  I listen to her tone and realize whoever called her must not have told her the whole story. She is obviously thanking him for picking me up and driving me to the hospital but has no idea he saved my life. And maybe that’s for the best. I’m learning to accept that my mom may never know the full story of anything in Jameson.

  “I’m ready to go home,” I moan as I brace my stuff body against the back of the bed, eagerly pushing myself to my feet.

  She wraps her arms around me and guides me out of the room. Coach Granger says goodbye at the front doors of the hospital. I almost want to run after him. The corruption of this town has a special way of making you feel alone, making you want to flock to the arms of anyone who fully understands it. That’s part of what brought Emmett and me together after all.

  The Elites have threatened to kill me plenty of times. Thomas Jameson and the Hendersons have all put guns to my head. The ways I’ve been injured and humiliated have almost been as bad as the death threats. But they’ve never come this close to actually killing me before. If Coach Granger hadn’t shown up on the side of the road like that, I would be dead right now.

  The harsh reality of it makes me feel sick as I press my aching forehead to the window of my mom’s car, relishing in the coolness of it against my skin. All I want is to graduate and get the hell out of Jameson, away from the Elites and WJ Prep. But I’m starting to wonder if they’ll ever let that happen.

  My father and I are the ultimate insult to them, after all. Between his past transgressions against them and the murder of Thomas Jameson. That only left Emmett standing in their way of ultimate power, and he’s hand in hand with me. Plus, I’ve never been good at bowing down to any of them the way everyone else does. I swallow down a hard lump in my throat as I begin to wonder…if maybe I will have to start treating them the way everyone else does just to survive. Like unquestionable gods.

  7

  Chapter Seven

  Between the muscle relaxers and the exhaustion from my adrenaline crash, I sleep like a rock. When I wake up the next morning, I somehow briefly forget about the whole thing. Enough that I spend a minute or two wondering where my purse is before I remember that it’s down at the bottom of a cliff.

  As it hits me, there’s a knock at my bedroom door. “Ophelia?” my mom calls out, just as she barges in. “Are you ready?”

  “No, I just got up,” I reply, rubbing my face in confusion. “Ready for what?”

  “I’ll have to drop you off at the DMV so you can get a new license,” she says. “But we have to hurry. I can’t be too much later for work than I already will be.”

  “But…school,” I murmur through my grogginess.

  “You’ll have to miss part of the day,” she insists. “You can catch a bus to WJ Prep when you’re done. They’re only open weekdays and you’ll need your ID.”

  “For what?” I sneer. “It’s not like I have a car to drive.”

  She ignores my pity party and disappears down the hall, but I know it’s her way of rushing me. If I want to sulk, I’ll have to do it in the car. We have to go. I throw on some clothes and follow along. As she drives me to the DMV, I reach for my cell phone five or six times, thinking I need to message Emmett, only to remember it’s in my mangled car right along with my driver’s license.

  “Did anyone tell Emmett what happened?” I ask her, amazed that I was too tired to think about it the night before.

  “Yes, I talked to him last night,” she assures me. “He was worried sick, like the rest of us. But I told him you were okay and that you’d be at school later in the day. He wanted to come over, but I told him you were asleep and needed your rest.”

  I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the need to be in his arms, and I’m almost angry that she didn’t let him burst in on my sleep in the middle of the night. Aside from Coach Granger, he’s the only other person I really feel safe with right now.

  She drops me off at the DMV, feeling completely naked without my phone or anything else. I can only hope that I don’t have any problems and that I catch the bus afterward because otherwise I’m screwed. It’s at least a three-mile walk to any place where I could reach someone to come pick me up, and everyone will be at work or school.

  Those Elites really do know how to fuck a person over. I’m sure they’d be happier if I died, but survival means I’m stuck facing down all of these inconveniences. I guess I should be grateful for. But it’s all overshadowed by the fact that if Malcolm and the others tried to kill me once, who’s to say they won’t try again?

  Thankfully, I get my new license with no problems. I catch the bus to school in time to make the last couple of class periods. I manage to meet with teachers for the classes I missed that morning, pass a test I should have studied for last night, and survive the school day without any more brushes with death.

  I barely have time to see its Emmett as I meet up with him at the end of the day. The moment he sees me, he rushes up to me and pulls me in close, squeezing so tight I can barely breathe. The moment he lets go he crashes his lips into mine, reminding me how badly we need to sneak away together as soon as possible.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says passionately, pressing his forehead to mine. “Your mom wouldn’t let me come over last night. I almost drove over anyway and snuck in through the window.”

  “You should have,” I smile. But really, I wonder if I would have slept right through it.

  “I want to kill those fuckers,” he fumes suddenly, pulling away from me with clenched teeth and seething anger. “I can’t believe they did that to you.”

  “Well, the police don’t seem to think we have any way of proving they did it,” I shrug.

  His eyes cut over to me, full of as much disbelief as mine were when I first talked to the police. But there’s also a look of acceptance. He knows as well as I do how things work around here, and we’re better off not holding our breath for the new Elites to ever suffer any consequences for their actions. Conveniently, all the evidence is crashed down in the valley anyway. Right where I would be lying right now if it weren’t for Coach Granger.

  “Well, all that matters is that you’re okay,” he softens, pressing his lips to my cheek again. “I don’t know what I would’ve done, Ophelia…if…”

  “Shhh,” I whisper into his ear. “Don’t think about that. What are you doing right now? Let’s get out of here. I need to see you…like, really see you…alone…” I playfully trail my fingers down the front of his pants, teasing between his legs.

  “Don’t you have practice?” he asks reluctantly.

  “Shit!” I remember suddenly. “You’re right. Ugh…I want to skip it. I’m sore and I’d rather be with you.”

  “You better not,” he insists, looking just as disappointed as me. “You’re in the home stretch now and you need to be in tip-top shape for all those scouts that have been sniffing around.”

  “I know, you’re right,” I sigh.

  We linger there getting in as many long, deep kisses as we can before I force myself to leave him to go to practice. Despite my aching joints, I do surprisingly well. I figure it’s from all the anger boiling in my veins. It pushes me to fly past all the other girls on the team. I make a special point to show up the brunette who is one of the Elite’s newest members.

  Coach Granger is nice enough to give me a ride home. But when I get there, Brendan and my mom are in a panicked state of planning. They can’t afford to get me a new phone or a new car right away, and their work schedules prevent them from being able to drive me around everywhere until we can afford everything. I assure them Emmett will help at times they can’t, and there’s Coach too. As for money, I suggest getting a job, but they insist that the only things I should be focusing on right now are school, exams, and track.

  Somehow, we manage to figure it out, but each day I feel li
ke more of a burden to everyone. I’m feeling particularly bummed out one day as I step out of my last class and pull out my cheap refurbished flip phone to text Emmett. I thought he’d take me home, but then I remember he said he’d be busy this afternoon. With no other choice, I walk to the bus stop and wait. By the time I finally arrive home, I’m angry to see my mom’s car sitting in the driveway. She could’ve saved me at least a half-hour by coming to get me if she was free.

  But I quickly realize why she didn’t pick me up when I step inside the house. I find her at the kitchen table with none other than my good old dad, Theo, sitting across from her. Great, I think. I’m already in a terrible mood. This is just what I need.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I blurt out, too tired to play nice.

  “Ophelia!” my mom scolds. “Language! Please!”

  Theo just smirks. “That’s okay, Lala. I guess it is still a shock to see me pop up, which is my own fault.”

  A bitter, suppressed laugh sneaks out of me. He still hasn’t answered my question, and I’m in no mood for any of this.

  “Ophelia, honey. Come sit down,” my mom beckons, making this little meeting of theirs sound important, which only makes me more nervous.

  “What’s going on?” I ask impatiently as I join them at the table.

  She looks to Theo who nods and pulls a slender white box from his pocket. He slides it across the table into my hands.

  “What’s this?” I raise a brow at him, feeling skeptical.

  “Open it,” he commands with a grin.

  I pull off the thin lid and gasp at the sight of it. A brand-new smartphone. I’m instantly excited and imagine tossing my old flip phone into the fireplace. But it all fades quickly as I remember who handed the box to me. I look up at Theo who has a huge, smug smile plastered across his face. He’s getting way too much satisfaction from rushing in to help when I’m in no position to say no. It irritates me so much that, for a moment, I forget my mom is sitting next to us. I slap the lid back on and slide the box right back to him.