by Eden Beck
“Kills me?” I say incredulously, my voice croaking.
“Yes,” he replies flatly. “With families like theirs, you think they can’t cover up a murder? Clean up a little ‘oopsie’ one of their dear sweet boys made? Get real.” He swings his legs over the side of his bed and stands up. “I need a smoke almost as bad as you do. Come with me.”
“Okay.” Normally I don’t like people ordering me around, but with Rafael I’m just going to have to deal with it. The alternative being, of course, getting found out.
Rafael grabs his lighter and pats his pockets a few times to check for the cigarettes we both know are already there. It’s a nervous habit.
“All right. Let’s go.”
I nod and follow him out of the dorm, down the stairs, and into the courtyard. Rafael keeps muttering instructions out of the corner of his mouth in a never-ending stream.
“Walk faster. Head up. Don’t use your hips like that, Jesus Christ, Alex! Do you want both of us to get expelled?”
I try to keep everything in mind, but it’s a lot to keep track of. An impossible amount to keep track of. Just moving my body feels different, unnatural, like I’ve been possessed by a demon that’s fighting me with every step. It doesn’t help that I’m easily distracted by the swarms of people in the hallway so much that Rafael eventually grabs me by my hood and throws me out the main doors and into the fading sunlight.
I pat myself down as he follows me out and around the corner, out of sight of the main hall. “Can you please stop that?”
Already lighting a cigarette, Rafael doesn’t reply. He just jerks his head to indicate I should follow him as he walks off toward a couple stone benches beneath a hardy mountain pine. I do as I’m told.
I sit down on one of the benches, wincing as the cold surface pushes right through my pants and almost freezes my ass. Rafael shoves a cigarette in my face. When I don’t immediately take it, he rolls his eyes and jams it right against my closed lips.
“You don’t have a choice, Alex,” he snaps.
I swipe it out of his hand. “Fine. Just give me the lighter.”
He obliges, and I struggle for a few moments to light the cigarette in my hand. Once I finally have it lit and inhale my first lungful—quickly followed by raucous coughing—Rafael snatches the lighter back from me and leans against the trunk of the pine tree.
“Opening week,” Rafael says simply.
I finish coughing and squint up at him. “Yeah?”
He closes his eyes as he takes in a long draught of his cigarette. I wait for him to breathe it out and flick the ash away.
“School’s going to be holding sign-ups for clubs and stuff. You should really think about what to join.”
“I’m just gonna lie low,” I say with a sigh. I attempt another inhale of my cigarette, and though I cough less this time, my voice is even hoarser when I add, “Don’t want to draw attention to myself.”
Rafael shakes his head. “Nope. Doesn’t work that way.”
“Why not?”
He exhales a line of smoke again. “Anybody who’s anybody is a part of, well, something. Not in a club, you’re a loser. A target.” He flicks the ashes off the end of his cigarette, and they fall and fizzle out in the dirt.
“I’m already a target.”
“Which makes it even more important for you to blend in. You’re going to need friends. Allies. And by that … I mean you’re going to need someone other than just me.”
“And here I was thinking we were going to be bosom buddies.”
He ignores my comment.
“So, the real question here, is what kind of boy you’re going to be.”
“What?”
“There’s all sorts,” he continues. “I’m the gay one, obviously.” He says it flat and dry, almost stoic, his gaze fixed on the mountain peaks. I wonder what kind of boy he wishes he could be. It’s got to be something more than this self-proclaimed stereotype. “That Neville kid, he’s the wimpy, nerdy kind. The Brotherhood are the alpha male type, obviously.”
It’s my turn to squint up in the direction he’s been staring. “Do I have to pick a type? I mean, can’t I just be … me?”
He lets out a single syllable laugh. “You gave up that right the minute you accepted your spot here.”
“Okay,” I reply, my brow furrowing. I look down at my lit cigarette and try to think. “What if I want to be the sensitive type?”
He nods, still not looking at me. “That’s fine. That’s good.” I smile to myself as he sucks in smoke, then pushes it out in a long, grey cloud. “If you want to get found out and expelled in literally four days.”
My heart sinks.
“We’re not going in until you finish that cigarette.”
I begrudgingly continue smoking. I never thought I’d be the smoking type, it’s just never had any draw for me. I caught my brother Caleb smoking out behind the barn once and he made me swear never to start. If he could only see me now.
But I have to get my voice deeper somehow, since walking around sounding like a cartoon character isn’t going to be very convincing. Even still, I’m going to have to pretend my voice just hasn’t broken yet and hope that charade lasts long enough for everyone to get so used to it that they forget.
After a long bout of silence, Rafael throws down the butt of his own cigarette and stomps it out. “All right, I’m going in. You stay,” he says, adding the last bit hastily as I go to follow. “You’ve still got half that thing left.” He pulls a fresh pack out of his pocket and tosses it into my lap. “Start chain-smoking. It’ll help with the gravel.”
“Wait—can’t you come with me to sign ups?” I ask. “Is that what everyone was doing in the hallway?”
“Yep, that’s what they were doing. And no, I’m not coming with you. You’ve got to do this on your own, little bean.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and strides his way across the courtyard. I watch him until he disappears through the main doors.
I painstakingly, torturously, finish my cigarette and stomp out the butt like Rafael did.
I do not, however, light up another one.
I shove the rest of the pack into my pocket, gather up my courage, and walk alone across the courtyard into the main doors of the castle-like school. I don’t need Rafael. I didn’t need him to get here, I don’t need him now. I can’t always expect him to stick by my side, can’t expect him to fight my battles for me.
It’s warmer in the hall than outside, thankfully, but I still keep my oversize hoodie on. The entrance hall is full of students and professors alike. There are no signs advertising that this is club sign-ups, but I suppose everyone but me already knows. Just like how everyone else knew this was a school for boys.
Everyone but me.
I watch as my uniformed classmates filter in and out of nearby rooms. Desks are lined up inside the classrooms, neat hand-lettered signs hanging above them advertising the available clubs. There are so many. Chess, shuffleboard, cooking, finance—there’s one for everything. No topic goes untouched.
Under any other circumstance, I’d sign up for everything. You just don’t get opportunities like this where I come from.
But I have to stop myself and think about what Rafael said.
I have to pick the kind of boy I want to be.
I can’t just be Alex in a boy’s disguise. A bad boy’s disguise at that. I have to be Alex, the boy. But I’m not sure who that is yet.
I’ve started to head away from the tables when a hand catches my elbow and yanks me around, bringing me face-to-face with none other than Jasper. Head of The Brotherhood.
He looks like he’s always known the boy he would be. It was laid out for him before he was even born. Just like the two others flanking him on either side.
“Signing up for clubs, little man?” he hisses between his teeth.
It’s not even a joke, but the two boys behind him chuckle. Beck glares at me, his cheekbones looking deadlier by the second.
Jasper
’s hand clenches tighter on my elbow. I’ve taken too long to answer, so he wrenches me closer. “I’m talking to you,” he snarls in my face.
“Yes,” I reply simply, biting back the reply of isn’t that obvious? that I wish I could make.
No need to antagonize them, to invite more trouble on myself. Or Rafael, for that matter.
“Which one were you thinking of joining?” Heath asks, nodding back towards the tables now behind me. He cocks his head to the side and gives me a rakish grin. As nonchalant as he seems, there’s a certain edge to his voice.
“I’m not sure yet.” I look from Heath, to Beck, to Jasper, to Heath again, my eyes flicking so quickly they ache. I don’t dare move or try to tug my arm away.
“Perfect. You can forget about choosing.” Jasper takes his hand off my arm only to clamp down on my shoulder. “All four of us are signing up for lacrosse.”
“Lacrosse?” I echo weakly as he steers me toward another open doorway. I don’t know the first thing about lacrosse. There are sticks involved, I think?
“Lacrosse,” Beck says with a tone of finality. “It’ll be real fun to have him on the team.”
“That it will,” Jasper replies with relish. He looks down at me, and I try to shrink away. His fingers dig painfully into my shoulder. “And it’ll be nice and easy to keep an eye on you that way.”
“Oh, don’t worry if you don’t know how to play,” Heath pipes up from behind me. “We’ll be there to teach you a lesson or two.”
They all laugh heartily as I’m shepherded to the lacrosse desk. The boy—or man, everyone here looks so much older than I do—behind it pushes a sign-up sheet at me, and Jasper pushes me toward the table.
I give him a pleading look as I bend over the paper and take up a pen, but the attendant avoids my gaze. I scribble my name down. Jasper grabs me as soon as I’m done and yanks me out of the way so Heath can step up to the desk next.
“Welcome to the team, Alex,” Beck says with a somewhat manic grin.
Jasper laughs and pushes me away from him. I scurry out of the room as fast as my legs can carry me, my heart hammering away in my chest.
Whatever Rafael wanted me to do, that wasn’t it.
I should be staying away from The Brotherhood. I should be carefully plotting and planning a schedule to avoid them as much as possible. But instead, I’ve somehow gone and made sure I’m even more entangled with them.
As dangerous as this game is that I’ve begun to play, something in the middle of my chest flutters for a moment. Fear. Anxiety.
Excitement.
“Stop it, Alex,” I hiss to myself, shutting my eyes and shaking my head as a barrel through another doorway, “stop being such an idiot.”
An idiot, it seems, who’s determined to make an ass out of herself too.
“Oh!”
Another voice, shrill and female, cries out as I collide with someone on the other side of the door.
The force isn’t enough to send me sprawling, but that doesn’t stop me from flailing wildly until my hands find something to hold on to.
Something that, unfortunately, seems to be another girl’s boobs.
I freeze, my arms outstretched as I stare in shock, first at where my hands have come to rest, and then up into the face of the girl I’m practically assaulting. I pull my hands away a fraction of a second later, but the damage is already done.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit!
And I thought I was going to get expelled before.
It takes me a second to dare lift my eyes to meet the girl’s in front of me. I half expect, half hope, for a professor … the whole debacle somehow seems more forgivable that way … but instead I find another student.
A student close to my age, in fact, with long, flowing blonde hair cascading down her bare shoulders in ringlets, and full lips painted dark red. I don’t know how she’s handling the cold in her sleeveless blouse and pleated skirt. In fact, I’m wondering how the top managed to stay up at all the way I was grabbing at it.
Behind her stand two similarly dressed girls, both staring gob-smacked in my direction.
I open my mouth, ready to profusely apologize, when I realize the girl in front of me doesn’t look angry. She looks … amused. A faint blush rises in her cheeks, and a shy smile pulls at the corner of her lips.
Am I imagining things, or did she just wink at me?
“Well hello,” the blonde girl says, helping me to my feet, since I stumbled when I smacked into her. “Normally I’d ask you to take me to dinner first, but I kind of like a forward guy.”
I stare at her wide-eyed, still unable to form words. Behind her, her friends have relaxed a bit now that they’ve realized a harassment charge isn’t about to be filed. The girl in front of me widens her eyes a bit, looking up at me through dark lashes she’s batting like something’s gotten stuck in her eyeball.
“I know most of the boys here already … but I don’t know you.”
I blink up at her, suddenly shaking. Can she tell? Can she recognize a fellow girl? Is that what this is?
She slips a finger beneath my chin and tips it up. I’m a little shorter than her, but she’s also wearing four-inch heels. My feet ache just looking at them.
“You’re certainly a cutie,” she says with a giggle. “Oh—you must be the scholarship kid.”
“Yeah,” I say, too surprised to hide the emotion as the realization of what’s happening dawns on me. She’s not angry … because she’s flirting with me.
“I’m Olive,” she tells me, finally dropping her hand from my chin.
“Alex.”
“Alex,” she repeats warmly. The girls behind her turn to look at me again, their attention having been momentarily drawn towards the crowd of well-tailored uniforms behind me. “You don’t know who I am, either then, do you?”
I feel heat rising in my face. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.
Of all the things I expected, all the things I was prepared for … this wasn’t one of them.
“Um—no. Sorry.” I just want to get out of here, but she’s got an iron grip on my arm. She’s almost as strong as Jasper.
Though it could just be her nails.
“Shame.” Her smile widens, but it doesn’t reach her dark blue eyes. “Every boy here should know who I am. Even you.”
“Well, uh. Now I do.”
Her lips pucker. “But not really.”
“Uh—”
“Olive!” says Jasper, appearing over my shoulder. This might be the first time I’m actually glad to see him. “What are you doing here?”
And just like that, Olive’s hand disappears from my arm and she turns to Jasper with an excited shuffle of her feet.
“Jas!” she cries happily. “I came to see you, silly!” She throws herself into his arms for a hug, and I watch as he purposefully places his hand just above her ass. His hand quivers a bit, as if he’s having to hold back from letting his touch drift southward.
Olive breaks the hug a moment too soon. “I was just meeting the new guy,” she continues, and turns back to me.
Jasper’s smile immediately dissolves into a scowl. “Oh. You’re still here?
“Um—”
That seems to be the only sound I’m capable of making anymore.
“Aw, Jas, don’t be mean. He’s so cute, isn’t he?” Olive says, saving me with a bright smile. And from the look on Jasper’s face, damning me at the same time. “He doesn’t have your dashing good looks, of course … but there’s something so … je ne sais quoi about him, you know?”
Jasper just growls, his scowl deepening as he brushes a lock of hair from Olive’s shoulder to capture her attention again. “Won’t you get in trouble for being here?” he asks.
She shrugs. “Dean Robin doesn’t really care where we go, as long as we’re back before lights out.”
Dean Robin. The name rings a bell. Of course—the head of the all-girls school.
I take another look at the three girls. They
must be students there.
I feel the slightest twinge of jealousy. None of them has to pretend to be someone they aren’t. They just get to … live.
I, meanwhile, am just trying to figure out how to get away.
I wait a moment until no one seems to be paying attention to me and try to slink off, but Olive catches my sleeve again.
“Oh, leaving so soon?” she asks, pouting. Over her shoulder, Jasper glares daggers at me. His hands clench into fists at his sides.
“Gotta,” I reply hoarsely, trying not to panic.
“Aw. I’ll see you again, won’t I?” she asks. She leans in and brushes her lips against my cheek, running one finger along the seam of my hoodie as she does so, her hand lingering by the pocket for a second. “Promise me?”
“I—”
“I’ll hold you to that.” She winks at me, definitely winks at me this time, then turns to walk back to Jasper with her hips swaying.
Sweating and shaking, I turn away from Jasper’s glare and run toward the dorms, one hand slipping inside my pocket to finger the paper Olive dropped inside. I feel my heartbeat race again. Does she know?
I don’t stop running until I get to my dorm and blast through the door, startling Rafael from the book he’s reading.
“You look pale,” Rafael says, his voice flat as ever.
I slam the door shut and lean against it, breathing hard as I pull out the small slip of paper.
This piques Rafael’s interest.
“What’s that?” he asks, abandoning his book to come look over my shoulder. He grabs my hands to steady them as I shakily unfold the paper. They’re still shaking too much, however, so he takes it from me to look over it himself. His face darkens, and he holds it out for me to read.
The paper has Olive’s name printed in neat lettering at the top. She’s dotted the “i” in her name with a heart, and beneath that is a phone number.
Olive’s number. Where she found the time to scribble this without any one of us noticing, I don’t know. Something tells me it’s the sign of an experienced flirt—and in this case, a dangerous one.
“Well,” Rafael says, dropping his hands from mine. “Looks like Olive likes you. That’s going to make things even worse.”
