Good Girls

by Henry, Max

  “Would you mind double-checking this for me?” Mum hands the uniform list for my new school across to the older man behind the panelled counter.

  Colt was easy to outfit; there aren’t as many options on his list. A change of shirt depending on if the occasion is formal or casual, and that’s it.

  Mine, however. I have damn near a whole new wardrobe to organise.

  Arcadia College.

  One of the oldest and most prestigious high schools in the country. Only this time around, unlike Riverbourne Preparatory, prestigious doesn’t necessarily equal money. Nope. Instead, they earn their titles through academic records. They have the top four students in the whole country enrolled at their campus.

  I have my work cut out for me. Don’t get me wrong; I’m bright. But my focus was on other… gifts, shall we say, until now. I get the feeling that social status and deportment won’t mean much to these kids.

  “Boots,” the man says, gesturing to the bottom of the official list. “Does she have any?”

  Mum scoffs. “She has plenty.”

  “She” is also right here.

  The man gives Mum an unconvinced nod, lifts his eyebrows, and then starts ringing up the total. Three shirts—yep, shirts not blouses—a blazer, denim shorts, jeans, moleskin slacks for formal occasions, and a necktie. Oh, and a brimmed hat a la Wild West styles for full formal dress, too.

  Shorts and jeans. Shorts. And jeans.

  Where the hell are the skirts? The dresses?

  “That comes to seven hundred and thirty even.”

  I glance out the storefront bay windows while Mum hands her gold AMEX over to settle the bill.

  “There’s a 2.5% surcharge on AMEX. Is that okay?”

  A tinny whine of an engine grows in the distance.

  “Of course, it is.”

  I narrow my eyes on the street outside, barely paying attention to the beeps of the machine as the man puts the order through. A mixture of dirt-covered trucks and more practical clean sedans line the parking bays. Planter boxes overflow with lush greenery, and hanging baskets sprout an array of colour adding to the charm of the rolled verandas on the storefronts. I straighten my back to see over a dark grey truck, seeking out the source of the noise, when the card-reader squeals behind me.

  “I’m sorry. That’s been declined.”

  “Try it again,” Mum snaps.

  I stand to watch the motorbike as it approaches. Crisp white with bright red accents, the rider wears a matching helmet over her long auburn hair. With one eyebrow raised, I step closer to the enormous glass window. I can’t say what I expected, but a girl on a dirt bike was not it.

  The machine screams again.

  “Insufficient funds,” the man whispers despite the fact we’re the only people in his little shop.

  Even at twenty paces, I can hear my mother swallow away her shame. “Well, if I give you our address, you can send us the invoice, and we’ll settle it later.”

  The girl on the bike stops at the T-intersection across from the shop, resting one foot on the ground to keep her balance.

  “We don’t offer store credit.” The man’s impatience is clear.

  The rider eases around the corner and into a gap between two cars. With the grace of a dancer, she dismounts. I tip my head to one side and watch as she removes the helmet, shaking out her long waves.

  “What are my options then?” Mum snaps at the poor man.

  I break away from the scene before me as the girl rests her helmet on the handlebars of the bike. “I can help, Mum.”

  She jerks her head back, eyebrows high as though I slapped her. “Don’t be silly.”

  I retrieve my shoulder bag and fish out the small zipped purse containing what’s left of my cash allowances. My mother is positively mortified, her hand clasped so tight on the useless AMEX that I worry she might bend it. I set eight hundred-dollar bills on the counter and then slide the stack toward the softly smiling man.

  “Thank you, darlin’.” He quickly rings up the order and offers my change while Mum turns and storms from the shop.

  I stash the money he gave me and then collect the bags. “Thank you for your help.”

  “You enjoy your new school, okay?” He leans over and snags a pack of uniform-coloured hair accessories and pops them in one of the bags.

  All I can do is smile and pretend that his generosity means something. But when I’m accustomed to getting “freebies” all the time due to the amount we would spend each trip out, it’s the intention behind the gesture that’s the only thing different now.

  He doesn’t reward me for spending large—I’m rewarded for managing to cover the bill.

  I step out onto the narrow pavement to the sound of hooves clip-clopping along the sealed road. Mum stands, shoulders back, head turned toward the source of the noise.

  Two guys around my age ride what—to me at least—are massive animals down the road. What the hell? I mean we’re in the country now, sort of, but really? Animals on the main street? They wear worn denim and checked shirts; the sleeves straining over what are well-honed bodies. Country boys can be kind of hot.

  One of the guys slows his horse and stops beside the motorbike. His eyes narrow beneath the brim of his hat as he glances around the street before saying something to his buddy. The other guy nods, and then the first urban cowboy leans down to snag the helmet. A feat, given his high position in the saddle, yet I’m sure one that’s second nature for him.

  Me? I would have fallen flat on my arse.

  “Let’s go, Lacey,” Mum snips. “I’ve had enough of this town for one day.”

  More like she knows she’s out of funds. Otherwise, we’d be across the road in a heartbeat and eating at the café that has incredible smells emanating from it.

  My stomach growls its disappointment. I know, I know. I could kill for a spiced latte about now, too.

  “Tuck Brallant! Don’t you dare!” The stunning girl from the bike dashes out onto the roadside.

  But she’s too late.

  The guy—Tuck—lets rip a laugh that’s as large as life as his damn animal and then digs his heels into the sides of the beast. The horse crouches back on its rear legs before launching into what is an impressive display of speed. The cacophony of hooves on tarseal is deafening when his friend joins in pursuit.

  “Where are their parents?” Mum scolds, turning for our car. “You can’t tell me the town stand for this kind of reckless behaviour.”

  But as the girl jumps on her bike—sans helmet—and starts it with a roar, I get the feeling they do.

  Especially when none of the other bystanders blink an eye as she speeds off down the street to catch the troublemakers on horseback.

  Maybe this change will be fun, after all?

  “You wouldn’t believe it,” my mother grumbles, slicing into her overcooked steak. “These kids were running riot along the main street as though it were some… some playground.”

  I glance to Dad where he sits at the head of the table, Mum to his right, opposite me. He works the knife through his meat also, chewing his bottom lip while he agrees with a simple, “Mmm.”

  “Their behaviour was nothing short of reckless, James. What if they’d dashed out into the street while I had been driving?”

  “Then I guess you would have needed to make an evasive manoeuvre,” he states with the slightest tinge of sarcasm.

  Mum sighs heavily, pushing her meat aside with her fork.

  She still learns how to cook. Preparing the nightly meal for the family is something Alicia Williams is not accustomed to doing.

  I mash the overcooked carrot with the back of my fork and then scoop it up into one mouthful.

  “I hope neither of you has those children in your classes,” Mum remarks, glancing between Colt and me.

  I turn my head left and study my brother while I chew. He’s watched this whole conversation with a mischievous gleam in his eye so far; I’d love to know what thoughts run through his mind.
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br />   “I’m sure the chance of having at least one in the same subject is high, Mother.”

  “Perhaps I need to speak with the Dean,” Mum grumbles into her salad.

  Dad snaps his head up, fork down. “No. Let the kids settle in before you start causing trouble.”

  “I don’t see how looking out for our children’s best interests is trouble,” she retorts.

  “Who says they’re all that bad, anyway?” I ask. “It looked as though they had fun.”

  “Nobody asked for your opinion,” Mum says with a dismissive tilt of her head. “Finish your dinner, Lacey.”

  I exchange a knowing look with Dad. We’ve become closer than we already were throughout this transition. I still don’t fully understand the details of the court case or what his lawyer did to get a settlement that avoided jail time. All I care about is that we’re still together as a family.

  Colt? Not so much. I glance my brother’s way when he sighs at the tough slab of dark meat. Unlike me, the distance between Colt and Dad grew to the point they barely talk anymore.

  I know Colt holds it against Dad, the fact we lost it all.

  Everything.

  “Can you give me a hand cleaning up?” Dad asks as he rises from the table.

  I nod, stuffing in the last mouthful of my vegetables. Colt will disappear into his room, and Mum will take up residence in the living room after dinner.

  Alicia may have resigned herself to the fact she must now learn how to cook meals, but her commitment to cleaning stops at pushing the buttons on the washing machine.

  Dad and I tidy the kitchen every night, and I hang the clothes out to dry each morning after breakfast.

  We haven’t decided who vacuums yet, taking turns in the interim. I think Mum hasn’t tried because she doesn’t know how to use it or what all the attachments are for.

  Come to think of it, I’m not sure she was ever home when our maid would clean in the city to have some idea of what goes where.

  “So,” Dad starts as he rinses the plates off. “Are you excited about Monday?”

  School holidays end this weekend. As of Monday, I’ll officially be one of the newest students at Arcadia College.

  “A little.”

  “Nervous?” He smiles over at me while I retrieve the dish towel.

  I match his grin. “Completely.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  I lean against the counter and watch as he fills the sink with warm water and soap. If we want to install a dishwasher, he said we need to ask the landlord.

  The landlord.

  I still can’t wrap my head around the knowledge we pay somebody to live in this hovel.

  “Did you get everything you needed today?” Dad swirls a cloth over the first plate.

  I chance a cursory glance toward Mum, wondering if she told him about the issue with her card. “Yeah. I only need boots, but I have so many I’m sure I’ll find a pair that suit.”

  “Good.”

  I take the dripping plate from him. “What about you?” My towel circles the flat surfaces. “Do you like your new job?”

  “It’s work, Lace. That’s all we need to worry about.”

  He doesn’t say anything more on the subject, and I don’t press. Dad’s eyes hold a vacancy that I’m not accustomed to. It’s as though he shuts off and retreats within himself while he cleans the evidence of Mum’s poorly cooked meal from our crockery.

  I’d almost say he looks ashamed.

  I finish up in the kitchen with Dad, giving him a quick hug before I head to my room for the night. In our old home, Colt and I had our side of the apartment furnished with a small kitchenette and a private lounge for entertaining our friends.

  Here, the living room is shared with the dining area. You can’t hold a conversation without everybody hearing what you have to say. I think that’s why Mum prefers that Colt and I make ourselves scarce in the evening; she doesn’t want us to hear subjects that aren’t ours to be concerned with.

  Like why her AMEX card declined.

  “Hey.” I knock softly on Colt’s doorframe.

  He glances up from where he’s lounged on his bed. “Come in.”

  I cross the room and settle myself on the end of his double bed. Legs tucked beneath me, I lean forward to try and see his screen. “Who are you talking to?”

  “Arthur.” His thumbs fly across the phone. “He said Libby is having a party at her place tomorrow. Has she let you know?”

  “Greer mentioned it.” I try in vain to mask my disappointment that I had to hear about my bestie’s party through another friend.

  Colt studies me for a mere second before shifting his attention back to the device in his hand. “She probably got her to tell you so that there’s no record of the conversation on her phone.” He swipes up. “Her parents check that kind of thing, you know.”

  I nod. “Yeah. I know.”

  “Hey.” Colt sets his phone aside and reaches for me. I take comfort in the weight of his hand on my knee. “It’s not your fault, okay? How Libby feels about you hasn’t changed.”

  “It’s still hard, though. We’re so far away from them now.”

  “We’re two hours away,” he levels. “It’s not that far.”

  “It is when I don’t have a car.” I fight back the childish tears that threaten to fall. After everything that happened, being upset that I never got my birthday car is ridiculously selfish.

  “Good thing I do then, huh?” Colt rolls onto his side, facing me.

  I reach out and squeeze his bicep. “What are you going to do now you have no gym membership?”

  “I’ll find other ways to stay fit.” He waggles his eyebrows.

  “Ew!” I giggle and smack him on the chest.

  He falls to his back, chuckling. “You don’t need to worry, Lace. We might not live near Riverbourne anymore, but we’ll always be who we were there.”

  I sigh, my shoulders dropping. “How? How can you say that when we’ve lost it all? Our wealth. Our status. Our inheritance.”

  “It doesn’t change who you are in here.” He prods a thick finger to the centre of my chest. “You were and always will be one of The Chosen, Lace.”

  “Just the one with the least chance, huh?”

  Colt pushes up to sit, then taking my face in his hands. “You are gorgeous, sis. You were born for our world. You were born to be seen. Don’t let this slip-up throw you off course. Got it?”

  “I think so.”

  Use my beauty and grace to marry one of the Chosen boys.

  Sure.

  Not as though I have anything else working in my favour anymore, is it?

  The comforting lights of the highway into the city flicker through the windshield as Colt and I enter Riverbourne. My thumbs dance across my phone screen, juggling multiple message threads while the deep bass beats of Post Malone reverberate around Colt’s Explorer.

  “Are you sure you’re okay to drive us home if I drink?”

  I lift my chin and turn my head toward Colt. “Of course.” His car is automatic; it can’t be that hard.

  His lips flatten in a thin line, his brow furrowed. “It’s different when we get out of the city, Lace. No streetlights mean you need stay extra alert.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I assure him, hand to his arm. “If I feel as though I can’t do it, I’ll find somewhere for us to park up until you can.”

  He gives me a wry grin. “I’d rather crash in Riverbourne than sleep in the damn car.”

  “Don’t worry.” I drop my gaze back to my phone after another ping. “Just enjoy yourself.” I huff a little before adding under my breath, “Heaven knows, we need it.”

  I tried my new uniform on this morning. I then cycled through at minimum eight pairs of boots before I found the ones that would adequately lift such an ordinary outfit. If I want to keep my charm, I’m going to need to modify the damn shirt.

  Jeans. I still can’t see myself ever being comfortable in those while remaining feminine.
I’ll take a simple dress such as the one I wear now any day over denim.

  I flip the visor down and check my makeup, ensuring my lashes are still perfectly in place. Now that we don’t have our allowances, I’ve had to reserve the extensions for special occasions only. Occasions like this: seeing Barrett for the first time since we moved out to Arcadia.

  G: How far away are you? Some first year is making moves on your man. You need to get here fast.

  My stomach clenches at the urgency in Greer’s message. Under usual circumstances, I wouldn’t be threatened by a first year in the slightest. But now that the better part of my appeal has vanished into a liquidator’s bank account, I have to up the ante.

  I will be Barrett Reed’s wife. End of story.

  I don’t see how else I can get our family back where we belong.

  “Everything okay?” Colt asks, glancing across as he navigates through an intersection.

  “Fine. Greer’s just excited to see me.”

  L: We’re almost there. Keep her distracted.

  G: How?

  L: I don’t know. Ask her about her outfit or something.

  I get a thumb up in response right as we enter the suburb we used to call home. An unbidden pang of nostalgia hits me as we cruise down the street one block over from our old apartment. I’d ask Colt to drive past, just for old times sake, but I don’t want to mess up my face before I see Barrett.

  “It’s weird, huh?” Colt frowns at the lit front steps of the luxury residences. “I never thought I’d drive through here as a tourist.”

  “We’re not,” I snap. “Tourists don’t belong somewhere. We do.”

  He lets out a slight huff and then turns down Libby’s street. My best friend lives a mere five-minute walk from our place—lived. I spent many an afternoon at her house browsing the latest trends and discussing our future beaus. Arthur, her boyfriend, asked her out in the first year at Riverbourne Preparatory. He jokes that the minute he laid eyes on her, he called dibs and made his way over to claim her before anyone else could.

  I could only wish for something so perfect. For whatever reason, I remained unattached the first three years. Not that I lacked attention. Damn, did I get attention. But, for whatever reason, the boys never made a move.