Sparrowood Academy

by Angel Lawson

  It’s so, so hard not to use my newfound self-defense skills offensively. I knew what I was getting into and what kind of person Trip really is, but that doesn’t make him less repulsive. I swallow my disgust and say, “Always a positive in a growing business. Do you have a long game on this?”

  “World domination, babe. Sparrowood isn’t the only prep school. I’m slowly building my workforce and clientele across the better schools in the region.”

  That information comes as a surprise. Probably because until recently, boarding schools weren’t even on my radar. The idea of Trip spreading this destruction all over the place is more than a little disturbing. He’s a big thinker. I should have known.

  “Oof.” I stumble, bracing myself for the crash. Strong hands grab me from behind.

  “Careful, Princess.”

  I steady myself and look away from Hawk’s exasperated face. I’m annoyed with him, too. I’d wanted to come out here alone with Trip. That idea was met with a hard and resounding “no” from the guys.

  “It’s the perfect opportunity,” I’d said.

  “For him to violate you and leave you in the woods,” Gray said, eyes flashing.

  “No,” I’d argued. “For me to get him to let down his guard while you Neanderthals aren’t around.”

  They weren’t convinced.

  I take the moment of closeness to whisper in Hawk’s ear. “When we get there I need a minute alone with him.”

  “Not happening.”

  “Yes, it is.” I pull away from him and do my best to catch up with Trip, who hasn’t even noticed we fell behind.

  A few minutes later we reach the small, old building Rochelle told me about. It’s small and wooden—clapboard. Basically, a cabin. It’s in a small clearing, which gives the moon a little more space to shine down. I see a dirt driveway that leads in the opposite direction of the path we just came in on. That’s where we’ll sneak off campus to go to the party tomorrow night, in a car Trip will have waiting for us.

  He takes us around back to the basement door. He takes the steps down, pulling out a key to use on the door. The lock is new, similar to the ones back at school. That means someone from the main building comes out here occasionally.

  “This is my main area of operation.”

  The door opens with a squeak and I won’t deny this whole place is freaking me out. It’s too quiet, too dark, and if something happened out here, no one would know. I glance back at Hawk, who has one of those passive, unreadable expressions on his face, before walking inside.

  At first, I’m struck by the dusty, oily smell. It smells like the garage on the corner of my block back home. But then I realize the room is pretty clean. It’s lined with shelves and filled with normal, basementy-looking things. Cardboard boxes sit in the shelves along with yard tools and old work clothes are folded neatly. Trip walks over to a section of boxes with sliding drawers, they’re all labeled with the type of hardware inside; nails, screws, bolts. He pulls one open and holds up hexagon-shaped pill. “Ecstasy?”

  I step closer and pull open another drawer labeled, “washers” and find it filled with red capsules. “Those are uppers. Perfect for exams.”

  Hawk doesn’t move away from the doorway, but his shoulders tense at the mention of the narcotics. He’s on alert, keeping an eye outside.

  “Relax bro,” Trip says, tossing him a little baggie. “That shit will make you feel like you’re sitting on a beach in Hawaii.”

  “We could have been followed,” Hawk says, throwing the baggie back.

  “I’ve got my guys on it.”

  It’s funny because long ago, the night we got into this, Hawk said the same thing to me about his guys.

  While Trip sorts through his inventory I glare at Hawk, letting him know I need a minute alone. He stares back, unmoving, so I say, “Maybe you should go check out the driveway. Make sure we know how to get to the right place tomorrow night.”

  “It’s not hard to find, but yeah, go around the curve and you’ll see the fence line. The car will wait for you out there,” Trip says, distracted by his count.

  Finally, still hesitating, Hawk climbs up the cement stairs and heads back outside. The instant he’s gone I regret it. Being alone with Trip makes me feel sick. He’s unpredictable. Smug, and although I don’t think he’s the sex offender his cousin is, I still don’t trust him one bit.

  I walk past the drug dispensary and see a large file cabinet. I run my hand over the top. “What’s in here?”

  He glances up. “Tests. They go back decades.”

  “How did you get old exams?”

  He laughs. “Cheating in prep school isn’t new. It’s basically a tradition. The teachers have been here for decades and over time, a catalogue was collected. I’m just the one that brought it into the modern world and monetized it.” He pulls his keyring out of his pocket and locates a small one. He unlocks the top drawer and pulls it out. “Alumni have passed these down for generations, but always to different individuals. I located the current owners and offered to buy them in order to make one complete collection. We add to them constantly. Mitch is a skilled hacker. I’m lucky he’s on board.”

  Mitch is the kid that offered to sell tests to Gray when we got here. It’s almost fascinating to see how deep Trip’s reach goes.

  “So the whole cabinet is filled with tests and assignments?”

  He slams the top drawer shut and locks it. “Yeah, well, everything but the bottom drawer.”

  “What’s down there?”

  His eyes sweep over me. “You ask a lot of questions.”

  “I like to know what I’m getting into.”

  Trip is disturbingly handsome. He’s like a specimen from nature that’s there to lure you in by his beauty but is poisonous and deadly. When he looks at me, I feel off balance. Uneasy. Intrigued. It’s a terrible combination and I understand why the K-Boys insist on supervising me. A slip up with this kid is entirely possible.

  I think he’s going to tell me to mind my own business, to stop being so nosy, but instead he says, “That’s where I keep the good stuff.”

  “Good stuff?”

  “Incriminating photos. Porn. Blackmail material. The hard copies, at least.”

  Bingo.

  “But most of it’s online now anyway,” he admits. “I’m just kind of old school and like to hold porn with my grubby little fingers, you know? I appreciate the past.”

  “It seems like you’ve got everything under control.”

  “I try. Working with teenagers is a crap shoot. Always thinking with their dicks or getting distracted. But I know how to find good people.” He holds my eye. “Like you. I’ve always suspected you’d be good for this enterprise.”

  “Thank you?” I don’t try to hide my disbelief.

  “That’s not the only reason I’m glad you’re involved.”

  Anxiety rolls over my skin. His tone is smooth and skilled. “No?”

  He reaches out and pushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “I’ve had my eye on you for a long time, Eden Warren, but the odds were never in our favor. Not out there at least, but in here…”

  “In here I’m with the K-Boys,” I say, needing to draw a line. One he’ll no doubt be willing to cross.

  “Why is it not surprising a girl like you needs three guys to satisfy her.”

  My body heats at that one, not out of embarrassment, but out of truth. I’m attracted to them all and have no desire to pick. In a perfect world, I’d keep them all. Right now things aren’t perfect. We’re just trying to survive.

  He looks over my shoulder, back to the door that Hawk walked out of. His finger grazes down my cheek, stopping at my chin. “You let me know when it’s our turn, because I have plans for you. Delicious, time-consuming, shattering plans.”

  “There’s a hierarch—”

  “Yes, I know. And I’ll wait my turn. I have no desire to upset their system any more than I want them to upset mine. That’s why we can work together. We unders
tand each other.” He drops his hand. “I just wanted to make my intentions clear.”

  “Don’t worry,” I tell him. “You have. Speaking of the K-boys, I do need to ask you something.”

  He leans against a shelf. “Go ahead.”

  “Tomorrow night. I’d like it to just be me and Hawk.”

  He frowns. “It’s important for all of you to get a feeling for my operation outside the school.”

  “I know, and I agree, but there’s a big hold up. Theo can’t go to that party.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s an addict, barely clean. Putting him in a tight spot like that will destroy him.”

  He thinks it over and says, “That’s really not my problem. What if he’s staying back to call the administration? Or worse, the cops?”

  “He’d rat out me and Hawk at the same time.”

  The muscle in his jaw tics as he thinks it over. “Fine. I assume he needs a babysitter?”

  “It would be helpful.”

  “Then he and Mathers can stay back.”

  “Thank you.” I exhale in relief.

  It’s too soon though, because his hand lowers to my shoulder and he says, “You have to understand that nothing comes free with me, Eden. Is Theo worth it?”

  Obviously. “What do you want?”

  He studies me for a moment and shrugs. “I’ll let you know when I’ve decided.”

  He squeezes my shoulder and walks back over to gather the product he’s taking back to school. A cold chill settles in my bones, knowing I’ve probably made a deal with the devil, a deal I’m not going to be able to get out of.

  We walk outside, and Hawk waits against the side of the house, his eyes searching me for any signs of a problem.

  “Everything okay?” he asks quietly while Trip locks up.

  “Yes, we’re all set for tomorrow. You and me.”

  He frowns. “What about the others?”

  I shake my head and walk past him into the woods. I know I’ve done the right thing taking care of Theo. I’m just not sure how much I’ll sacrifice for it in the long run.

  18

  Eden

  The next night, Hawk and I sneak out after curfew and walk through the woods to meet the car that will take us to the party. It’s a Thursday and in general the campus is quiet, so we are, too. He offers to carry the backpack I have slung over my shoulders.

  “What’s in here, anyway?” he says as we approach the fence line.

  “Shoes and a dress,” I say. “I didn’t want to ruin Morgan’s clothes if I fell again.”

  He nods and drops the bag over the fence, easily scaling it himself. Since I’m short it’s not as easy and the wire mesh buckles under my weight. He steps up the fence, grabs me by the waist and lifts me over. Damn, he’s strong.

  “Thanks,” I say, reaching for my backpack. He nods down the road to a black SUV idling on the grass.

  The driver’s name is Tobias, or at least he says. He’s older. Not interested in talking. The ride is about thirty minutes away and I unzip my backpack, pulling out the black dress and shoes.

  “Um, I need to change.” I say, slipping off my sneakers. It’s dark in the car. I’m not really into changing in front of Hawk, but with Tobias up front it’s even more awkward.

  “Got it,” Hawk says, shifting forward. He’s big enough that he obstructs the entire view of the backseat from the front.

  I slip out of my leggings and then my sweatshirt. The dress is lightweight, tight. Morgan had it from a dance the year before and happily let me borrow it without asking questions. Style-wise, she’s a safer bet than Rochelle, who tends to go for more revealing outfits.

  Quickly I push my arms through the sleeves and neck hole over my head.

  “Shit.”

  “What?” Hawk asks, shifting next to me. The next thing I hear is a low, muttered, “Jesus.”

  My skin blazes although he probably can’t see it. “I forgot to unzip the dress and well, I’m stuck.”

  “Stuck?”

  I squirm around a little. Totally stuck, elbows half in, head not moving. “Help?”

  “Uh,” he says. Then I hear, “Eyes forward, got it?”

  I think he’s talking to me but then I hear Tobias reply, “Yeah, I got it.”

  “Okay,” Hawk says, voice tight. “Let’s figure this out.”

  It’s not just the fact I’m stuck in my dress, it’s the fact that I’m sitting in the back of the car in my bra and panties with Sawyer Hawkins while stuck in a dress. This is not the way I expected him to first see me naked.

  Gulp. You know, if he ever saw me naked.

  “Shift around,” he says. “Let me get to the zipper.”

  I do as he says, moving toward his voice. Our legs touch and I feel his body as he leans over me in the tight space. He smells good, soapy and clean, and I hear him mutter curses about tiny zippers verses his big fingers.

  “Almost got it,” he says, leaning so close that I’m almost in his lap. My heart hammers so hard, so goddam hard, he must hear it. Hawk could do anything he wanted to me right now. Touch me, violate me, humiliate me. Instead he takes care not to do any of those things. I hear the tines pull, zipping down with relief.

  “Oh, thank god,” I say, poking my head through and he gently tugs the dress down my body. It’s already short, grazing my thighs in a sitting position. “That was embarrassing.”

  “Hold on,” he says, grazing my neck as he pushes my hair out of the way. I feel his gentle touch as he rezips the back and then smooths out the fabric. Goosebumps pop up across my exposed skin.

  “Thank you,” I say, reaching for the shoes--boots, really. When I look up at him, even though it’s dark, I’m pretty sure his cheeks are flushed and a flicker of something intense crosses his eyes. It reminds me of the night of the fight, when we kissed, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking about it, too. When I look again, the impassive expression is back and he’s asking Tobias how long we have until we get there.

  My embarrassment is forgotten when the car enters a neighborhood with a large gate and a security shack. Tobias shows a card or ID or something to the guard and we’re waved in. I stop fussing with my shoes and lean toward the window, looking at the biggest houses I’ve ever seen. Not just houses. Mansions, each with their own long driveway, massive front doors and big glass windows. We’re up in the mountains and I assume the views are spectacular.

  My nerves kick into gear—Hawk and I have pretended to be many things over the last few months, but this is a level of affluence I’m not sure we can fake. His knee bounces next to me and it’s possible he’s worried, too. There’s no room to back out of this, not with the fact Trip is testing us and that we’re pulling up to the house.

  I adjust, reach down, and pull up the zipper on my boots, and Hawk hops out of the car without a word. A moment later my door opens and he stands there and I get a good look at him for the first time all night. Dark jeans, a crisp gray shirt that matches his eyes, and a black jacket. His clothes look new and expensive. I can’t help but wonder if he borrowed them like I did.

  “Ready?” he asks, offering me his hand. I scoot to the edge of the seat and take his warm hand for balance. The boots have a high heel and come all the way over my knee nearly, but not quite, meeting the hem of the short skirt. I look away and tug at the hem as his eyes rake down my legs.

  “I guess.” We walk down the sidewalk toward the house. All the lights are on and people are visible in the windows, from a distance they seem young, our age or maybe college. The thump of music greets us at the door. “Do you have the envelope?”

  Hawk nods, feeling his inside pocket. Trip gave it to him before we left. We’re supposed to find his contact inside, a woman named Patrice, and give it to her. She’ll give us something in return.

  I think we both feel a sense of boldness with this plan. If we’re given drugs or something else illegal, we’ve made a deal with the Department of Corrections; whatever goes down shouldn’
t involve the two of us getting in any more trouble than we’re already are in.

  Inside, it’s clear most of these people are young—like I thought—probably college. Asherville is nearby and there are two colleges there. These people look wealthy—just like the house—nice clothes, expensive shoes. I’m thankful for Morgan’s clothes. They help me fit in. Hawk’s hand settles on my back as we weave through the crowd looking for Patrice. It’s a move he’s made a dozen times at school. Possessive. Claiming.

  Fake.

  That doesn’t keep my body from responding, his hand sending tiny shivers up my spine. I think about what his hands would feel like elsewhere—about his warm, demanding mouth.

  “What should we do?” I ask, feeling incredibly out of place.

  “Get a drink?”

  “Yeah,” I nod, “that works.”

  The kitchen is packed with clusters of people. They all seem to know one another from some exclusive club that requires beauty and money as a prerequisite to join. It’s not just the clothes but the jewelry, the haircuts, the confidence. We both stand in the doorway trying to gain our bearings. It doesn’t take long for us to get noticed.

  “You must be Trip’s friends.”

  I look over and see a woman leaning against the counter. She has dark hair cut in a bob with blunt bangs. The hint of a tattoo peeks out from behind her hair, near her ear.

  “Are you Patrice?” I ask, not liking the word “friend.”

  “I’ve been waiting on you,” she says, striding over. She’s pretty. Tall. Hawk assesses her, and I feel a flare of irrational jealousy. “Come with me.”

  We follow her through the house, past the living room full of people, down a hall to a closed door. She enters it and my skin prickles. What are we doing? Why are we following this woman?

  All the instincts that kept me alive on the streets are screaming for me to turn around now and run.