King of Hawthorne Prep

by Jennifer Sucevic

  I open my notebook and jot down a few notes as Ms. Pettijohn continues to lecture. As I do, I shift on my seat with the disconcerting sensation of being watched. Ever since I stepped foot on campus, people have been staring. Without bothering to glance around, my guess is that half the class is inspecting me as if I’m a strange species they’ve never encountered before. As much as I try to ignore the unease prickling at the back of my neck, it only grows stronger.

  Unable to stand another moment of the scrutiny, I lean against my chair as my gaze sweeps over the neat rows of students that surround my desk. A few who had been openly appraising me, jerk their attention away when they realize I’ve caught them. Interesting. Maybe they aren’t so bold after all. As I continue to peer around the room, my gaze collides with a familiar one.

  One I never expected to see again.

  Certainly not here.

  I blink as my heartbeat speeds up, jack hammering almost painfully against my breast.

  There’s no way...

  There’s just no way.

  Except it is.

  It’s him.

  Kingsley observes me through narrowed eyes that hold a strange intensity. It’s like he recognizes me, but doesn’t. An odd mixture of emotion swirls through his eyes.

  Recognition. Confusion. Hatred.

  Wait a minute...hatred?

  That can’t be.

  The time we spent together was amazing. He has no reason to hate me. The last time we saw each other, his lips had been stroking over mine. We’d made plans to spend the next day together on his boat.

  Swimming.

  Sunbathing.

  Making out.

  The muscles in my belly contract as my lips lift into a tentative smile and I raise my hand in a wave. Instead of receiving a similar expression, his mouth twists into a scowl. Animosity burns brightly in his eyes before he pivots away, dismissing me with one icy look.

  My hand, which had been suspended midair, falls to the desk with a heavy thud. I gulp down my disappointment and stare sightlessly at the notebook on my desk as confusion whips through me.

  Why would Kingsley act like that?

  Is he angry that I had to leave without saying goodbye? I tried to tell him what was going on. For goodness’ sake, his mom or whoever that was threatened to call the police on me! What else could I have done?

  For the rest of the class period, my attention strays to him, but he stares straight ahead. It’s like I’m not even there. When the bell rings, marking the end of class, Kingsley rises from his desk and walks out with another boy. Not once does he glance in my direction.

  His blatant rejection sends an avalanche of hurt and confusion cascading through me. There hasn’t been a single day when I haven’t, at least once, thought about him and wondered what he was doing. I’ve fantasized about different scenarios where we would run into each other. And now that it’s happened, he glares at me like I’m nothing more than sticky, sun-warmed gum on the bottom of his shoe.

  His behavior makes little sense.

  I have two choices. One, I let Kingsley leave and forget I ever met him. Or two, I suck it up and confront him. What makes the situation more complicated is that he’s the only person I know at Hawthorne. Hell, in this entire godforsaken town. And having at least one friend by my side would make all the difference in the world.

  When you look at it like that, there’s only one option. Mind made up, I rise to my feet and take a step toward the door, hoping to catch Kingsley before second hour. The sooner I get this situation cleared up, the better I’ll feel.

  “Ms. Hawthorne?” A sharp voice cuts through the low hum of student chatter. “A word, if you please.”

  Damn.

  The air escapes from my lungs in a rush as I swing toward the front of the room where Ms. Pettijohn waits.

  “Ma’am?”

  A few classmates linger, watching the exchange with piqued interest.

  The older woman keeps her thin lips pressed together until the last of the stragglers take their leave. “I hope you don’t think special exceptions will be made for you because your family founded the school.”

  My eyes widen as I shake my head. “Of course not.”

  “Good.” She nods as if satisfied with the answer. “That’s not the way Hawthorne Prep works. It would behoove you to be humble about your heritage.”

  My heritage?

  What is that supposed to mean?

  When I stare blankly, she flicks her wrist toward the exit. “I would encourage you to make a better impression on your remaining teachers than you did on me this morning.”

  Ouch.

  I point to the door. “I should go.”

  She tips her head. “Excellent idea.”

  With that dismissal, I scurry from the room and search the hallway for the dark-haired boy I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since meeting him this summer. Whatever changed his opinion of me, I want to clear it up.

  Trying to find Kingsley in an ocean of navy blazers is like playing a game of Where’s Waldo. A zip of electricity shoots through me when I catch sight of him slamming his locker door shut before heading to second hour. Uncaring if I’m late for my next class, I take off after him with a determined stride. With my gaze pinned to his tall figure, I push my way through the crowd, attempting to catch up to him. When I’m within striking distance, I reach out and lock my fingers around his bicep.

  “Kingsley, wait up!”

  Without glancing at me, he jerks out of my grasp and keeps walking.

  What the hell?

  Is he really this angry?

  What did I do?

  “Stop!” Unwilling to give up, I reach out again and tighten my fingers around his arm. “Give me a chance to explain!”

  My heart lurches when he unexpectedly whirls toward me. Fury fills his eyes and my hand falls away as I stumble back in surprise. His lips twist into a scowl as he advances, forcing me to scurry away from him.

  The thick crowd of students pressing in on me scatters, forming a circle around the two of us as my back hits a metal locker. It’s like they can sense that something volatile is about to happen and no one wants to miss it. The space between us gets eaten up until he’s so close I have to tip my chin to hold his flashing gaze.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were a Hawthorne?” he growls by way of greeting.

  He’s so close that his warm breath feathers across my lips. A couple months ago, I was drunk with the feel of it, now it frightens me more than I care to admit.

  “What?” I scrunch my face, wondering if I misheard the question.

  Even though there’s barely a whisper between us, he presses closer. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

  The hallway goes silent. It’s like they’re all holding their collective breath.

  “I didn’t realize it would matter,” I murmur, not understanding the direction this conversation has swerved in.

  “Of course, it matters!” he scoffs before stabbing a finger at my chest. “You let me think you were an ordinary girl, and that’s not the truth, is it?”

  Confusion swirls through my brain. What else would I be if not an ordinary girl? I shake my head, attempting to deny his words, but that only incenses him further.

  With a snarl, he wraps his hand around my neck and shoves me against the locker. The back of my head reverberates off the metal, the sound of it echoing throughout the corridor.

  “Kingsley.” My eyes widen.

  It’s only then that I realize the two boys may be identical in looks, but this is not the same one I spent time with at the beach. That guy had been kind, sweet, and funny. There is nothing charming or nice about this one. The anger wafting off him in heavy waves is almost suffocating in its intensity.

  He lowers his face until the tip of his nose practically touches mine. “Keep my name out of your mouth, do you understand? You and I don’t know each other.” His rage-filled gaze examines mine. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me.
Don’t even think about me.”

  With unhurried movements, his grip tightens around the delicate skin of my neck until it becomes difficult to breathe. My hands rise to claw at his arm, but I’m powerless against his strength. His jaw ticks as he continues to squeeze.

  “Help!” My widened gaze flutters to the students crowded around us. Not a single one does anything to stop Kingsley from choking me.

  What’s wrong with these people? Why are they all standing there silently watching this unfold?

  “Help,” I whisper again, my voice growing faint. It’s becoming more difficult to suck in air and yet, no one moves a muscle.

  “Don’t look to them for help. They won’t lift a finger to assist you.” He applies enough pressure for wetness to sting my eyes. “Do you know why?” He waits a beat. “Because no one wants you here, Hawthorne.”

  A lone tear leaks from the corner of my eye before trekking down my cheek. When I begin to feel lightheaded from lack of oxygen, Kingsley is shoved away. As soon as the pressure on my throat vanishes, I gulp a deep lungful of air before doubling over. With my elbows propped on my knees, I brace myself so I don’t fall to the floor. Tremors wrack my body as tears fill my eyes.

  He could have killed me.

  “You touch her again and I’ll fucking wipe you off the face of the earth! Do you hear me, asshole?” a deep voice roars.

  Thank God for Austin.

  I lift my head in time to see my brother pin Kingsley against a locker. The two boys scowl at each other before Kingsley smirks and shoves Austin away. Both are tall and muscular, evenly matched.

  Kingsley whips his hair back before straightening the lapels of his blazer. “Stay the fuck out of my way, Hawthorne.” His gaze jerks to mine and I shrink away from the hatred pouring off him. “Both of you.”

  As soon as he saunters away, the crowd disperses. Hushed whispers echo throughout the corridor. More heat scalds my cheeks as our name is continuously murmured. It’s like the incessant chirping of birds.

  Hawthorne.

  Hawthorne.

  Hawthorne.

  Chapter Ten

  My gaze stays focused straight ahead as I twist the dial of my combination. From all around me whispers bombard my ears. It’s a persistent chatter that refuses to be silenced. I had to listen to the steady hum of it in every class. No one will talk to me or even acknowledge my presence, but they sure as hell find pleasure in gossiping about me.

  Thank goodness I’ve been able to avoid Kingsley. Every new classroom I forced myself to enter, my footstep would falter over the threshold as I held my breath, carefully searching the room for his dark hair and eyes.

  Even though I don’t have an appetite, I pull my brown paper bag from my backpack.

  “Hey.”

  My gaze flicks to Austin, who now lounges against the locker next to mine as I slam the metal door closed.

  “Hi.” Besides Mrs. Baxter and Delilah, he’s the only friendly person I’ve encountered. Even the teachers are stone faced and chilly toward me. It’s like I’ve done something wrong or have a reputation that precedes me. Teachers usually love me. I’m not a student who causes problems in class. I’m quiet, smart, and turn my work in on time. What’s not to like?

  So this, I don’t get. It’s like I’ve been dropped into the Twilight Zone where nothing makes sense.

  Kingsley’s words continue to circle through my head.

  You let me think you were an ordinary girl.

  What the hell does that mean?

  I’m as ordinary as they get.

  “Ready to head to the cafeteria?” Austin asks with his paper bag in hand.

  My eyes widen at the question.

  I have zero plans to go anywhere near the lunchroom. It would be much akin to walking into a lion’s den. And I have a fairly high sense of self-preservation. The last thing we want to do is invite more trouble.

  I shake my head and clutch my bag with fingers that bite into the paper. “Let’s eat at the library or maybe head outside, if it’s allowed.”

  “Forget that,” he snaps, a potent concoction of stubbornness and anger flash across his face, “we’re eating in the lunchroom with everyone else.”

  No!

  “Aus, please.” My voice drops as I plead with him to reconsider his tactics. “I don’t want to be anywhere near these people. Just for thirty minutes. I need a break.” Otherwise I’ll be the one who breaks. And I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of watching that happen.

  “Suck it up, buttercup.” He folds his arms across his wide chest. “I won’t allow a bunch of hicks to dictate what I do.” He waggles his finger between us. “We need to stick together. If these assholes think they can intimidate us, this bullshit will only get worse.” There’s a pause. “You know it’s true.”

  My shoulders droop under the weight of his words because we both know he’s right. These people are like sharks scenting blood in the water. If we don’t make a show of strength, they’ll grow bolder. It’ll be a free for all to see who can rip us apart first.

  Why does this have to be so difficult?

  “Fine,” I agree reluctantly.

  A cocky grin tugs at the corners of his lips before he throws an arm around my shoulders and hauls me close. “We have each other, that’s all we need. We’re Hawthornes.”

  A sliver of unease runs through me.

  Yes, we’re Hawthornes, but why does that now seem to carry such a negative connotation?

  Halfheartedly, I allow Austin to steer me toward the cafeteria. He seems to know where it is. Apparently, his tour of the building this morning was more informative than my nonexistent one.

  The closer we get to the lunchroom, the louder the babble of voices grow and the more my feet drag. The beat of my heart picks up speed, thudding painfully in my chest. I don’t want to go in there. The smell of mass-produced food assaults my nostrils and my belly flips upside down, threatening to revolt even though I haven’t eaten since last evening.

  From beside me, Austin’s body tenses. I glance at him and notice the stiff set of his jaw and the muscle that twitches there. He’s bracing for a fight. My brother doesn’t want to do this anymore than I do. That knowledge only strengthens my resolve and I lift my head higher, unwilling to let these jerks tear us down.

  Austin gives me a wink before we step into the spacious room. A hushed silence falls over the student body as all eyes turn to us. If I weren’t expecting it, the sheer weight of their collective stare would be enough to have me stumbling to a halt before turning tail and running.

  “Keep it moving,” Austin growls from the side of his mouth. “Don’t let these assholes sense your fear.”

  Easier said than done. I gulp down my rising panic, knowing that he’s right. They’ll fall on me like a pack of jackals if they realize how frightened I am. I blank my expression and stare at the far wall of the cafeteria. As we move through the rows of students, I wait for an attack.

  “There’s an empty table to the left,” he mutters.

  I suck in a breath as my gaze skitters across the room before landing on a vacant table against the edge of the rectangular-shaped space. Together we stride toward it before sliding across from each other at the far end. The thought of enduring this hell for an entire year is enough to bring a hot prick of tears to my eyes.

  I’ll never make it.

  Austin settles with his back to the crowd as I sit across from him. If I lift my gaze, I can scan the entire cafeteria. Instead, I block them out and refuse to make eye contact. There’s no reason to provoke the inmates.

  As soon as we’re seated, Austin doesn’t waste time in emptying the contents of his lunch onto the table. Two PB and J sandwiches, apple slices, a bag of chips, a protein bar, and a bottle of water. When I make no move toward mine, he raises a brow which prompts me to follow suit. Mechanically, I pull out the sandwich, apple slices, bag of Sun Chips, and a bottle of water before staring at them. There’s no way I’ll be able to force down a bi
te. The thought is enough to stir the nausea roiling in my belly.

  “You need to eat,” he prods with a frown.

  I shake my head, wishing it were that easy. “I can’t.”

  Slowly my shoulders lower from around my ears as the din of conversation picks up again and people go back to conversing about whatever the hell they were previously discussing. As it does, my gaze travels cautiously around the room.

  Like the corridors, there are wooden beams crossing the vaulted ceiling. Arched stained glass windows allow shards of sunlight to flood in, giving the space a warm feel. More gold-leaf framed pictures dot the walls and heavy wooden chandeliers with white candles hang from the two story-ceiling. There are three lines of tables strategically placed in rows throughout the space. Without the food service taking place off to the side, it almost resembles a church.

  Except there is no peace or sanctuary to be found here. I’m more afraid of being ripped to shreds by the parishioners.

  I continue to study the architectural details until my gaze collides with a dark one a few tables away. A current of electricity shoots through me, flooding my body with awareness. The wise thing to do would be to avert my eyes, but Kingsley has the power to trap me within his stare. The boisterous noise and people that surround us falls away until we’re alone.

  Similar to this morning when his fingers were wrapped around my throat, it becomes difficult to breathe. My hand flutters to my neck, but there’s nothing constricting my airways. How is it possible to feel the pressure of his fingers when he’s across the room? A shiver of unease runs through me as his lips lift into a smirk. It’s like he knows exactly what kind of response he’s capable of eliciting.

  With a flick of his gaze, he dismisses me. His expression transforms into one of playfulness as a girl stops beside him before reaching out and trailing her fingers over his arm. In one quick movement, he snags her hand and tugs her onto his lap. Pain blooms in my chest when I realize it’s Sloane. Her arms loop possessively around his neck before she pulls him close. Her lips go to his ear as she whispers a secret.