by Angel Lawson
“Yeah,” I say, clutching my helmet by the face guard.
“You did good today. Try to loosen up a little. Trust your teammates.” I grimace and he notices. “Is that a problem?”
“I guess I’m used to being on my own.”
He gives me an amused look. “I’ve seen how you walk around with those friends of yours. You know how to command a group of people. You eliminated your rival in a matter of weeks. Shift that to the field, and you’ll be fine.”
“Some of my new teammates were friends with Fenway. I don’t think they’re too pleased about me taking his spot.”
He rests his hand on my shoulder. “Son, everything in this school has to be earned. Grades, diplomas, positions on the teams, relationships. No one is going to hand you anything. Just like in the real world.”
“You think that’s news to me?” I ask. “I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth like the kids around here.”
I clamp my mouth shut. Dawson doesn’t know why we’re here, but there’s a look in his eyes that says he’s not surprised by my admission. “You’re going to have to work twice as hard as these kids, but understand that I wouldn’t have asked you to join the team if I didn’t think you had it in you. Fenway was the leader of this team, and he ruled like the son-of-a-bitch he really is. They need a leader. A good one.”
I hold on to that idea. A leader. Of a football team. Of a group of Brats. It’s a title I’m not sure I want—or even one I can accomplish. I nod anyway and walk off, headed to the locker room. The wave of emotions rolls over me. Anger, bitterness, hostility. It’s there all the time, close and just under the surface. There’s only been a few times that I’ve felt peace, recently when I’m around Eden. I keep replaying the kiss from the night of the fight over and over in my head. It’s on a loop, and when I feel unsettled I pull it back out again and try to recapture the feeling.
What Dawson doesn’t know, what the K-Boys and Eden don’t know, is that there’s a reason I’ve agreed to join the team. It’s not just to infiltrate the predictably sexist and Neanderthal group. I want to channel that angry energy into something manageable. Something I can be proud of. Something that will make her look at me differently and see that I’m not just a kid from the streets. The guy that let her down when she needed me the most back then.
I want to be better so that maybe one day she’ll think about kissing me again, for real.
6
Eden
“This Chem test is going to kill me,” Stella mutters.
“Stop being negative,” Morgan says. “You know the material.”
“I just screw up the equations.”
Books are spread across the wide table up on the second floor of the library. Somehow, in a matter of weeks, I’ve become one of those people that has a study group. At times my life feels absolutely surreal, especially when I think about stumbling onto Luke and Rochelle in the stacks. I shudder.
“Cold?” Morgan asks. “I have a sweater in my bag.”
“No,” I reply. “I was just thinking about the last time I was here.”
“What happened?”
I bite down on my lip, uncomfortable with saying. Instead I lean forward and ask, “Do you know why Luke harassed Rochelle like that? What did he have on her?”
The two girls glance at one another. Stella shrugs at Morgan, who then says, “Look, I know you guys are friendly, but Rochelle is kind of a mess.”
“Well, yeah,” I say. “That’s pretty obvious, but the stuff Luke was doing to her? The leverage he had on her must be huge.”
Morgan leans forward. “You know those fake hater accounts kids make? Like the ones that spread gossip or manipulate photos or whatever? When Rochelle was in middle school, one of these started and she was the target. The posts were intense. Constant harassment and she threatened to kill herself. Her parents went to the school to put a stop to it and when they started looking into the accounts, it turns out Rochelle actually created the account.”
“Wait, what?” I ask, trying to follow.
“She was bullying herself for attention,” Stella says.
“That’s…”
“Crazy,” Morgan says, “but not entirely unheard of. It’s kind of a drama thing. From what I understand, things kind of calmed down from there, but she’s always been that kind of girl that toxic situations follow. Just being friends with her is a risk.”
I think back to Camille warning me about Rochelle the first few days of school. She’d been a bitch about it, but maybe she wasn’t totally off-base. “Ro saved me that night of the hazing down at the pool. And she warned me about Luke.”
“I’m not saying she’s a terrible person,” Morgan says, “I’m just saying she’s kind of screwed up. Be careful.”
“You still didn’t tell me what Luke had on her. She says they’ve known each other for years—family friends—and that he was just protecting her.”
Stella snorts. “My boyfriend, Steve, was on the football team with Luke—and that guy loved to brag. He, Adam, and Phillip may seem like idiots, but they do their homework. They want leverage on everyone and yeah, Luke knew Ro before she got here. He knew about the drama on social media. So he dug around a little and found a few other old accounts. People thought she’d calmed down but nope, she was still playing games online. From what Steve heard, it was all pretty desperate; posting surveys or drama posts declaring no one liked her. She’d ask people what they want to see. She’ll play truth or dare, taking them from submissions to her posts. Some of the dares got pretty pornographic, and she did them all. Girls, guys, solo.”
“Did Steve see this?” I ask, a little skeptical. I’m not relying on gossip.
“When Rochelle first got here, he told her he knew about the accounts and that he wanted to keep them secret. When she pushed back, they hazed her, cutting and dyeing her hair. They also sent a video around to all the students—just one—but it was enough. She started to comply after that.”
The same disturbing and uneasy feeling that’d been sitting in my stomach for weeks returned. “Thank god, Luke’s gone.”
Morgan nods. “Seriously, he was such a creep.”
“Maybe Rochelle can relax now,” I say.
“Maybe, but I’d be careful around her. She thrives on drama. Like an addict.” Morgan frowns. “I don’t want to shame her, because I know she’s the victim in all this, but she seems to get a thrill out of the attention. Even with Luke gone, I’m worried about her. Trip probably knows everything about her and the rest of us. It’s like the torch was passed.”
Rochelle wouldn’t be the first person I knew that had a habit of seeking trouble. Shelby, my friend from Kingston, comes to mind. Her relationships with the men in her life were always discomforting, and even Hope had a bizarre attraction to Trip that I never understood.
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” I say, focusing back on my school work. “At the very least, I can be her friend.”
Stella and Morgan don’t seem convinced, but they keep their opinions to themselves. It’s obvious to me now that the damage that Luke and his friends did Rochelle and probably others at the school. This place doesn’t just need cleaning out, it needs healing. Hawk is both right and wrong about the hazing. The girls need someone strong in charge who they both respect and fear.
I’m going to have to figure out how to accomplish both.
7
Eden
As usual, Theo beats me to the pool the next morning and is swimming toward the opposite end of the pool when I arrive. The air is cool, which makes the heated water look more inviting than normal, but that’s not what makes me strip down to my suit and walk down the steps to the shallow end.
Theo’s on his way back, head popping in and out of the water, when he notices me standing in the middle of the pool, waist deep. He slows and shakes his hair. “What’s happening here?”
He’s several feet away, and I walk toward him, each step taking me deeper into the pool. He stands, water ru
shing down his toned and fit body. Being out here with him like this is a multitude of challenges. Now that he’s gained weight and is working out again, his biceps are lean and strong, his abs tight and hard. Looking and not touching is only one obstacle. Another is why Coach Dawson sent me out here in the first place.
“It’s time for me to face my fears.”
His eyebrow lifts, and he watches me closely, the pool water making his blue eyes shine. “Is this about swimming or something else?”
He’s astute in a way I wouldn’t expect, but now that the drug haze has worn off, I suspect Theo’s not as dumb as he comes across at times. He’s quiet—observant. I’m definitely not ready to fully reveal myself to him.
“Promise you won’t let me drown?”
He reaches his long arms out to me. There’s still a considerable distance between us—fair enough, since the last time we were here I told him to stay away. I inhale, settling my nerves and pushing though the doubt, the flashbacks, the panic that consumes me, and inch toward him.
My heart pounds in my chest. I can’t help but think about that night when the girls dropped me in the pool, hands bound and taped. I can’t help but think of my father, alone and helpless in the ocean.
“I—”
Theo doesn’t hesitate. He moves swift and sure through the water and wraps his wet, strong arms around me. “You’re brave, Eden,” he says, “and you’ll face this mountain. Maybe not all of it in one day, but you’ll do it.”
My hands shake and body trembles. “I hate feeling like this.”
He looks down at me. “I understand. More than you realize. Morning after morning, I woke up determined to get through the day and not use. And each day, I’d fail. I’m still scared I’m going to cave.”
“Carrying baggage sucks,” I say, “but I’m determined to get rid of it.”
“I’m here every step of the way.” His arms tighten around me and a different kind of fear spreads through my body. I’m so attracted to this boy—to all three of them—and for a brief moment they were mine. I hate the idea that it was all just a game and I know that’s one fear I’ll never overcome. Telling the K-Boys how I really feel isn’t just scary, it’s dangerous. I can handle a lot of things, but a broken heart isn’t one of them.
My failure at the pool doesn’t stop me from executing my new plan. I go to Dorian after lunch and tell him what I want to do.
“A self-defense class?” he asks. “That’s not standard Phys Ed.”
“It could be an elective or a club, like track or the dance team or whatever.”
He sits behind his orderly desk, everything in place. “I’m not sure how the administration would feel about that. They’re more into the traditional activities here.”
“What? The barbaric ones like football where guys beat the shit out of one another for fun?”
He frowns when I curse, which only makes me want to do it more.
“There are policies on how to start a club or activity, Eden. It needs to be done by the second week of school, you need a sponsor, there are forms for requesting meeting times and spaces.”
“Well, I wasn’t here when the school year started,” I retort. “And back then they didn’t have a boy kicked out of school for assault. Circumstances change.”
He watches me carefully. “True.”
“The girls of this school need to learn to depend on themselves. They need strength and empowerment that comes from something other than spreading their legs and swallowing cock.”
His eyes flick to mine, and I see the underlying amusement at my vulgarity. Dorian’s no fool. He’s heard and seen worse. Probably from his own mother’s mouth. Kingston isn’t known for modesty.
“You’ll take the classes as well?”
“And recruit girls to join.”
“And you assure me this won’t turn into a way to learn how to escalate violence in the school?”
“It’s self-defense, Dorian.”
In a soft voice, he says, “I just hoped you’d feel safer here and not like you have to watch your back all the time like out on the streets.”
“This isn’t just for me. It’s for all the girls here that feel powerless in an unbalanced system. I want to help them.”
He nods. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Our gazes hold for a beat longer than necessary—there’s a connection between us. I don’t know if it’s from living in Kingston or something else, but when I’m near him I do feel a little safer.
I stand and go to the door, “Thank you.”
“Be careful, Eden.”
How he knows that there’s something deeper going on here, I’ll never know, but maybe that’s why he brought me here in the first place. To fix this mess.
8
Eden
When Rochelle decides we need to throw party in the suite, I don’t argue, especially when she announces the theme is pajamas and that means I don’t have to get dressed up.
My roommate has seemed more stable since Luke and Camille were kicked out of school, and I hope that Morgan and Stella are wrong—that maybe she isn’t the root of her problems. On a positive note, she takes the theme as an opportunity to dress cute—not sexy—wearing pink footie pajamas and pinning her short hair back in tiny, glittery barrettes.
“Are those really your pajamas?” she asks when I walk out of my room. I look down at my cotton shorts and a T-shirt from back home. It has the university logo on it, is soft but threadbare, and belonged to my dad.
“Yes,” I say, eyeing the red party cups and cluster of glass bottles filled with alcohol that are on the counter of our shared kitchenette. I’m not sure how I feel about the alcohol. It’s one thing to go to a party serving it—it’s another to be the ones providing it. “Where did you get all this, anyway?”
“Basically, there’s a system—all set up InstaPic. You go in and place your order in comments on the pictures. The supplier leaves them in the cabin out in the forest.”
“What cabin?” I have no idea what she’s talking about.
Ro looks out the window toward the expansive grounds. “There’s an old cabin out there—original with the property. As far as I know, no one uses it, but there’s a service road that leads to it from off the highway, and the contraband supplier drops off whatever we order there.”
I learn something new every day.
“Then what? You sneak out and get it?”
She winks. “Or you talk someone into doing it for you.”
I wonder if Dorian is aware of this system. He’d said that Trip was fully involved in some of the illegal activities going on at Sparrowood before he even arrived. Was he one of the suppliers?
I try to relax as Rochelle handles the party; turning up the music, welcoming guests. Morgan and Stella arrive in cute pajamas, making me realize I may be the only one that doesn’t have party-ready sleepwear. I meet Stella’s boyfriend, Steve, who seems okay. A few of Luke and Camille’s friends linger in the sitting area outside our room. I’m working under the philosophy of keep your enemies close, but I worry about the way Phillip and Adam look at Rochelle—and frankly, the way she looks at them.
“Wow,” a voice says from behind me, “if looks could kill.”
I turn and find myself face to face with Trip Cohen. “What are you talking about?”
He holds up his cup and gestures to Phillip and Adam. “You looked like you were trying to set them on fire with your sexy little mind.”
“Sounds about right,” I push past him and walk into the kitchen to start cleaning up. “What are you doing here? I don’t think you were invited.”
“Lucky for me, a few girls took pity on the new guy and let me tag along.” He glances over at Denise. She hasn’t stopped shooting daggers at me since Camille left. I’m not sure I blame her. I totally screwed up her position as second best. “Yeah, I don’t think she was invited either.”
Trip leans against the counter, watching me stack sticky cups and wipe up spilled punch. “I
s that any way to treat a new student?”
“I don’t know.” I push my hair out of my face. “When I got here, I was dragged out of my bed in the middle of the night, duct-taped and tossed in the pool. I think not being invited to a party is the better option.” I glare at him. “Especially when you know I hate you.”
“Hate’s a strong word.”
“It’s a strong feeling.” Movement in the doorway draws my attention and I see the K-Boys walk in the room. They receive a warm welcome, including a hug from Rochelle and a few other girls. My heart flip-flops just at the sight of them and I make a sudden decision that yeah, I maybe need a drink, too.
I pick up the nearest bottle and start pouring.
“Here,” Trip says, taking the bottle from me, “let me do that.” He fills it midway and drops in a few pieces of ice from the bowl on the counter. I take a sip, pretending the liquid doesn’t burn down my throat. “I never can tell…do you hate the K-Boys or are you fucking them? There’s a fine line, sometimes.”
Has he heard about our fleeting relationship when Luke was here? I sense an opening.
“We hang out a little—they’re familiar—but you know how I feel about them.”
“Do I?” he takes a gulp of his drink. “You know, your sister acted like she didn’t want to associate outside her social class either, but eventually I wore her down.”
I want to punch him for bringing up Hope, but I swallow and don’t let it get to me. At least not where he can tell.
He smiles and flips his bangs out of his eyes. “This isn’t my first boarding school, Eden. Fuck, it probably won’t be my last. I know how lonely it can get, and I can only imagine it’d be even more so for someone like you.”
I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean, someone like me?”
