Look away!
Stop staring!
It’s a relief when Sloane tips her head back and laughs, loose blond hair bouncing around her shoulders, obscuring my vision. A moment later, she tilts her body, and he comes back into view again with his gaze pinned to mine. His eyes are frozen chips as a slow grin spreads across his handsome face.
The pain he’s inflicting is deliberate.
Why is he doing this?
I almost shake my head in frustration before catching myself at the last minute. There’s no way this is the same boy I met earlier this summer.
“Hey.” Austin reaches out and grabs my lifeless hand as it lies on the table between us.
Reluctantly, my attention jerks to him. “What?”
He points to my lunch with his other hand. “You need to eat.”
I glance at the untouched food and grimace. “I’ll eat later.”
“Everything will be fine,” he mutters, attempting to comfort me. “Give it some time to settle.”
I snort out a disbelieving laugh. Usually I’m the one who is the eternal optimist, not my brother. I’m the one who is always there, championing him, lifting him up, propelling him forward. It’s disconcerting to find our roles reversed.
“Are you still going to football practice?” I ask.
Having polished off his lunch, he picks up his bottle of water and guzzles the rest of the liquid. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
Even though I had been encouraging Austin to go out for the team only last night, now I’m rethinking my position. These people are frightening. I don’t want him anywhere near them. Especially alone.
“Like you said, they’re a bunch of assholes and I don’t think you’ll be anymore welcome on the team than we’ve been in this school.”
He shrugs before an evil grin settles on his face. “Want to guess who’s the bigger asshole?”
A mirthless chuckle escapes from my lips. Leave it to Austin to compete for that particular title.
When I don’t respond, he tilts his head. “Isn’t it your job to disagree and tell me how amazing I am?”
“I think you have me confused with our mother.” Tension leaks from my shoulders. “And for the record, you already seem to know how amazing you are.”
Humor flickers in his eyes. “Of course, I do. But it’s always nice to hear.”
“You’re amazing, Aus,” I rasp, hot emotion stinging the back of my eyelids. There’s no way I could get through this moment without him.
He nods, looking pleased with himself. “Right back at you, sis.” He pauses for a beat before adding, “These people won’t break us.”
Movement from the corner of my eye captures my attention and my gaze slides from Austin’s green eyes to Kingsley. I’m jolted into awareness when I find him watching me from beneath a thick fringe of dark lashes.
As his unfriendly gaze holds mine, I get the feeling that Kingsley would like nothing more than to break us.
Me, specifically.
Chapter Eleven
I stare at the clock on the wall, willing the seconds to tick down. Two more minutes and this hell that has been Hawthorne Prep will be over.
For today.
Only one hundred and eighty-nine more days to go until I graduate and never have to step foot in these hallowed halls again. Sad that it’s my first day and already I can’t wait for it to be my last.
Mr. Timmons, the AP Psychology teacher, drones on, but I’ve tuned him out as I fidget restlessly on my seat, a mental countdown running through my head.
Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
My muscles stiffen with anticipation.
The bell rings and I grab my notebook and pen before hauling ass to the door. A handful of grumbles follow in my wake as I shove people out of my way. They can fuck off for all I care.
With my head down, I maneuver through the crowded hall to my locker before shoving my books into my backpack and going in search of my brother. His locker is a couple of classrooms down from mine.
I stride toward him as he shoves his books on the shelf. “Are you still planning to stay after?”
Kingsley mentioned playing football when we spent the day together on his boat. After what happened this morning, I don’t want my brother anywhere near him. Austin isn’t afraid to throw down. And it would seem like Kingsley isn’t either. That makes for a particularly dangerous mix.
A renewed look of determination settles over Austin’s features. Deep down, I know what his answer will be. He only confirms it when he says, “I already told you at lunch that I was going.”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip before worrying it.
He has no idea that I met Kingsley at the beach this summer. I should probably give him a heads up, so he isn’t thrown off if something gets mentioned. But the words stay locked deep inside where I can’t set them free. After today, all I want to do is forget I ever knew the guy.
“I wanted to make sure you hadn’t changed your mind before I took off.”
My brother shifts his weight as a hard glint enters his eyes. “If they don’t want me here, they’ll have to force me to quit.”
Austin’s life revolves around football. He performs in school solely so he can step onto the field and play. You take that away and his whole entire world would crumble. It’s a scary prospect.
“Okay,” I sigh as my shoulders wilt, “I’ll see you at home later.”
“Bye.” He hoists his backpack onto his shoulder and takes off.
Silently I watch as he strolls down the hall before vanishing around the corner. It takes a moment to realize I’m alone.
A more disconcerting word flashes through my head.
Vulnerable.
I need to get out of here before anyone takes advantage of that situation.
With my shoulders hunched and my gaze trained on the marble floor, I move swiftly through the building, trying to draw the least amount of attention to myself. Whispers dog me through the corridors. My anxiety rachets up, reaching a fever pitch as I burst through the heavy glass doors into the late summer sunshine. Fresh air hits my cheeks and my feet stall as I draw in a shaky breath before expelling it from my lungs.
Keep it moving.
One foot in front of the other.
I’m almost out of here.
With my hands clutching the strap of my backpack, I weave through the parking lot. Students congregate in pockets. They stare, but no one says a word as I rush past. I keep my gaze averted until I’m a row away from where Austin parked the G-wagon this morning. With a sigh of relief, I lift my gaze and grind to a halt as my mouth falls open.
Dozens of broken eggs dot the black paint. Cracked white shells mixed with bright yellow yoke cover the hood. It looks like a bunch of angry birds dive bombed the Mercedes. A white gloppy mess resembling shaving cream covers the windshield.
Are you freaking kidding me?
Giggles explode from around me. I swing toward the sound, glaring at the students, some doubled over with laughter.
Anger erupts from inside me like a geyser. “You’re all a bunch of assholes!”
“Take the hint and go home, Hawthorne!” comes a shout from the crowd.
“No one wants you here!” another person adds.
As more people pipe up with comments, I grapple with my backpack and pull out the keys. My fingers tremble as I click the locks and slide behind the wheel. I toss my bag onto the seat next to me and shove the key into the ignition before starting up the engine. I white knuckle the black leather steering wheel and stare blindly at the windshield but can’t see a damn thing because a thick coat of shaving cream covers the glass. Tears sting the back of my eyelids as I fumble with the buttons until the wipers slide across the glass, pushing away enough of the mess to make out the parking lot. Heat slams into my cheeks when I realize that
everyone is still standing around gawking as if I’m the paid entertainment.
Inhale and exhale.
Don’t lose it.
I shift the car into reverse and pull out of the parking spot. Once I’m able to put the SUV into drive, it takes everything I have inside not to stomp on the gas pedal and squeal out of the parking lot. Instead, my fingers strangle the steering wheel as I fall in line with the other high-end cars before driving through the gate and turning onto the main road.
Now that I’m away from school, fury swirls through me. I’m halfway to the house before realizing that I can’t show up with the Mercedes in this condition. Not unless I want to explain how shitty my first day at Hawthorne Prep was and how godawful these people are. I wouldn’t put it past Mom and Dad to call the headmaster—or worse, pay him a visit—and then I’ll be known as a snitch on top of everything else.
I ease the vehicle over to the side of the road and search my phone for the nearest place to clean the SUV. Once I have an address, I set it for turn-by-turn directions. Since the town is small, it doesn’t take long to find the one and only carwash. The attendant gives me a funny look when I roll up and hand him my credit card before asking for the premium wash and wax.
I stay in the G-wagon, squeezing my eyes closed, as it moves through the different wash cycles. It’s sad that this is the most enjoyable part of my day.
When the two guys are done wiping off the SUV, I dig around in my wallet for a couple of bucks and roll down the window before handing over the bills. “Thanks. It looks great.” Better than it did this morning.
One of the attendants scratches the side of his head. “You’re lucky the egg wasn’t on there for long. It would have taken the finish right off.”
Fuckers.
“Yeah.” I force my lips into an anemic smile. “Lucky.”
I stew the rest of the way home. As I pull into the drive, I notice that my parents are both home. I was hoping they would be at Hawthorne Industries and I’d have a little time to collect myself before having to put on a show.
Had an amazing day!
So glad you moved us here!
Everyone was so warm and fuzzy!
I park behind the Volvo and grab my backpack before exiting the vehicle. It takes everything I have inside to paste a smile on my face as I let myself in through the front door.
“Hello,” I yell, dropping the backpack onto the floor. “I’m home.”
“In the study, sweetie!” Mom answers in a cheerful voice. “How was your day?”
Complete and utter shit.
I want to move back to Chicago.
Is homeschooling a viable option?
“It was fine,” I say instead.
“Just fine?” she asks with a tilt of her head.
I step over the threshold into the study before screeching to a halt. Yesterday, I’d thought all the dark paneling lent a lavish, cozy feel to the room. Now it only reminds me of Hawthorne Prep. I back up a step, not wanting to move any further into the space.
Dad is seated behind the desk that once belonged to Great-Great-Grandpa Herbert. For half a century, it sat in his office at Hawthorne Industries. His laptop is open and there are papers and manilla folders scattered across every square inch of the polished top. Apparently, he’s delving in headfirst. Mom is curled up near the window, enjoying a cup of tea.
“Yeah.” Little does she know what a stretch just fine is.
“Well, it can only get better from here, right?”
That’s doubtful. My biggest fear is that it’ll get worse. That thought is enough to send a quiver of dread through me.
“Did you make any new friends?” she inquires before taking a sip of her drink.
“This isn’t kindergarten,” I mumble, rolling my eyes.
“Well, I hope everyone was nice to you and your brother.”
Ha! We were lucky they didn’t eat us alive for lunch.
I give her a noncommittal grunt in answer.
“How about your teachers?” Mom is bound and determined to pull something good out of me. “Did you like them?”
Not particularly. They were as crappy as the kids.
“I guess,” I say, trying to throw her a bone so she’ll lay off with the interrogation tactics.
“Were your classes the same as back home?”
Home.
That one word is enough to send a fresh wave of wistfulness crashing over me. I blink away the hot sting of tears that burn the back of my eyes. I would give anything to go back home.
Anything.
The small cramped house. Sharing a bathroom with Austin. A school that isn’t prestigious. Broke and living paycheck to paycheck. I’d take all of that over this.
“Oh, honey,” Mom murmurs, noticing the emotion that has gathered in my eyes, “there’s no question that first days can be rough. It’ll get better, I promise. Dad and I appreciate how great you’ve been through all this. Give it a couple of months. After that, we’ll be settled in and Hawthorne will feel more like home. You’ll make new friends and won’t feel so much like an outsider.”
Again, doubtful. Mom doesn’t understand how much these people hate us.
“I hope you’re right.” Another step backward brings me into the hallway. “I’m going up to my room to start homework.”
“That’s my girl, already hitting the ground running,” Dad pipes in, attention focused on the computer screen. “Think how good a prep school will look on your college applications.”
“Yup.” For the first time in my life, I don’t give a damn about my college apps. I care about making it through the week without having a nervous breakdown.
Before Mom can bombard me with more questions or platitudes, I flee from the study, grabbing my backpack from the foyer on the way and pounding up the staircase two at a time. Once inside the safety of my room, I close the door and sag against it.
One day down. Only a hundred and eighty-nine more to go.
That thought is enough to make me cry.
I lock away all the heavy emotions simmering near the surface before dumping my books onto the bed. I wasn’t exaggerating when I mentioned having homework. What I learned today is that the academics are rigorous at Hawthorne Prep. Maybe even more so than my old school. The next two hours are spent working out calculus problems and reading a chapter from my psychology textbook.
I’m finishing up my last calc problem when I hear Austin’s door slam shut. All the anxiety from earlier comes crashing back as I hop off the bed and make my way to his room. I pause at the door and listen, but there’s only silence. Softly, I rap my knuckles against the wood. When there’s no answer, I turn the handle and peek my head inside. I find Austin sitting on the side of the bed, staring down at his hands. He doesn’t look at me as I inch my way into his room.
“How did practice go?” Even as I ask, my intuition tells me it wasn’t good.
When he remains quiet, nerves gather at the bottom of my belly and my voice rises. “Aus?”
He glances up, and a puff of air leaves my lips when I see the shiner under his left eye. I rush toward him, grabbing his face to get a better look. “Oh my God!”
“It’s not a big deal,” he grumbles. That being said, he remains still, allowing me to inspect the damage. “It happened at practice.”
I narrow my eyes. “Bullshit.”
He shrugs but keeps his lips tightly pressed together.
“Who did this?”
My brother huffs out a breath and drags my hands away before rising to his feet. “No one.”
“Austin!” I snap. “Who hit you?”
“Just drop it, okay? It doesn’t matter.” He points to the bathroom. “I need to take a shower and then hit the books.”
My shoulders slump. It’s useless to keep pressing him for an answer. I know my brother and he won’t snitch on whoever did this. Even to me. “Do you need help?”
He pauses. It’s hard for Austin to ask for assistance which is exactly why I alway
s offer it.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, moving toward his dresser to get a fresh change of clothes.
“I already finished, so I have plenty of time tonight.”
Some of his anger drains as the tension leaks from his shoulders. “Thanks, Summer.”
“Let me know when you’re ready to work.”
He jerks his head into a tight nod before stepping toward his private bathroom and hesitating over the threshold. “Everything go all right after school?”
I swallow down the truth as my gaze darts toward the window and the rolling green lawn of the golf course in the distance. I should tell Austin about the G-wagon, but he’s already dealt with enough shit today. The last thing I want to do is add more to it. Hopefully, the vandalism was a onetime thing.
“It was fine.”
“Good.” Relief floods through his voice before he disappears into the bathroom and closes the door.
For the first time in our lives, Austin and I are keeping secrets from each other. Out of all the changes this move has created, that shouldn’t be one of them. Something tells me that our situation here is going to get far worse before it gets any better.
Chapter Twelve
Mom’s comment about the first day being the hardest couldn’t have been more wrong.
Every hour I spend at Hawthorne Prep is agonizing. For the first time in my life, I dread going to school and count down the hours until I’m able to flee from the property at precisely half past two.
By the time Friday rolls around, I could almost weep with joy. Two blissful days spent away from Hawthorne seems like a much-needed reprieve. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m beginning to hate the sound of my own last name.
I sleep late Saturday morning and spend the rest of the day exploring the house. Mom convinces me to go grocery shopping with her in town where everyone steers clear of us and is unfriendly as fuck. Mom pretends not to notice, instead smiling and waving at everyone we meet before chatting up the clerk at the checkout. After we load groceries into the back of the Volvo, she tells me that small-town folks aren’t always open to newcomers and we have to kill them with kindness.
King of Hawthorne Prep Page 9
