by Mae Doyle
***
“Elle Suttles? Yeah, I have your schedule right here. If you wait a moment, I’ll get an ambassador to show you around.” The school secretary glances at me, a curious smile on her face.
An ambassador? Shit, this place is over the top. I was expecting to have my printed schedule shoved in my hand and to get pointed in the right direction of my first class, but Kennedy Academy is nothing but classy.
A huge chandelier hangs over my head, throwing bright flashes of light around the entrance and the lobby. Pushed up against the wall opposite of where I’m standing are huge leather sofas. Right now there are some girls sitting on them, leaning so close together over a magazine that their heads are touching.
A group of guys walks by them and one whistles at the girls. I’m surprised when she holds up a single finger without looking up from the magazine, but the guys just laugh and move on. I’ve been dropped into a fully functioning ecosystem and I’m the one thing that doesn’t belong here.
The halls of Kennedy Academy are packed, and people keep bumping into me as they walk by. None of them stop or slow down to apologize, and I shy away from them. It’s like they’re all magnets, moving in time with each other and walking into each other, while I’m the one drawing them in. I can’t help the fact that they keep running into me, or the fact that they’re pretending like I don’t exist.
Instinctively, I lift my violin case and hug it against my chest while I wait. The secretary calls someone on a bright red phone and then turns back to me, a triumphant smile on her face.
The ambassador must be on their way.
The secretary leans over her desk towards me, a huge smile on her face. It’s incredible that she can even smile with as much Botox as I think she probably has. I can smell her perfume from here and I almost gag. She looks like everyone else in this stupid town – blond with big hair, bigger tits, and fake lips. Her shirt is pulled down so far that I’m surprised her nipples aren’t hanging out, and I can’t help but entertain the thought that she and my mom would probably get along great.
“Bethany Bryson will be here in just a minute to show you around. She’s just the best, I’m sure that you two will be wonderful friends.” She takes a huge sip of some iced coffee drink, slurping on the straw, obviously waiting for me to answer.
I eye her suspiciously and don’t answer. I’m not here to make friends, and I seriously doubt that this woman has any idea the type of people I want to hang out with. Also, there’s something about her that seems off. She keeps eyeballing me like she wants to say something but is afraid to.
“You know,” she finally bursts out, “I swear that you could be a dead ringer for someone who used to go to school here! It’s crazy. That’s part of the reason I called Bethany. She and Tiffany knew each other really well. I think that she’ll get a kick out of you being here. Just look.”
She points over my head and I turn around to see what could have her so excited. Across the hall, next to the sofas, there’s a huge painting hanging up on the trophy wall. Honestly, I’m not sure how I didn’t notice it before. It looks like it was hung there as part of a shrine. There are wall sconces on either side of the painting, giving it a bit of an eerie glow, but that’s not what makes my jaw drop open. The secretary may be ditzy, but she’s not stupid. Looking into the painting is just like looking into a mirror.
“What the hell?” I push my way through the crowd of students to get a closer look. The girl’s hair is a bit longer than mine and her eyes are darker, but we have the same face shape, the same expression, everything.
It’s beyond creepy.
Under the picture is a plaque, and I’m leaning forward to read what’s written on it when there’s a rough tap on my shoulder.
“You must be Elle.” The girl standing behind me has her hip jutted out to one side, her hand resting on it. She’s snapping her gum and staring at me. If I thought that I was going to look out of place in a tank top, I was out of my mind. This girl has on the shortest skirt and cheerleading top that I’ve ever seen. Her toned stomach is on full display, a belly ring dangling down her tanned skin. Besides that, the difference between the two of us is that she’s not covered in goose bumps and I’m absolutely freezing.
Before I can say anything, she reaches out and pinches me, squeezing my arm hard enough to make me cry out. “Crap, what was that for?”
She laughs. “Holy shit. You look just like Tiffany. You know, I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen you in person.”
I wait for her to say anything else, but she goes a little pale. Her dark eyes stand out from her light skin and she’s got on perfect eyeliner and eyeshadow that make her eyes pop. She’s easily one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen.
She’s popular, no doubt about it. No matter what the secretary may have thought, this is not the kind of girl who will want to be my friend. I can feel it already.
Even if we were on equal footing, which I’m sure that we’re not, Bethany and I are nothing like. First of all, she looks like she walked out of the pages of a magazine. I look like a drowned rat.
She oozes confidence. I just want to crawl under a table and disappear.
Also? She’s probably never had her fucking stepdad try to share her bed.
Nope, we’re nothing alike.
Better to go on the offensive.
“Yeah, so I’ve heard. What’s her story? She some famous alumnae or something?” I jut my thumb over my back at the painting. Schools are fucking weird with how they like to memorialize people. I hope she wasn’t a model student or I’m going to have some big shoes to fill.
I just want to blend in and disappear, and it’s hard to do that when you stand out because you look like a famous student.
“No, she’s dead.” She narrows her eyes at me and then glances back up at the painting. “You know, I need to get you to class, but my brother is going to shit his pants when he sees you. We’ll take the long way, c’mon.” She grabs my arm, her perfectly manicured nails digging into my skin.
“Hard pass.” I pull back, but she turns around, her nails digging harder into my skin. I glance down at them, wanting to reach out and smack her hand, but well aware that doing so would be a terrible idea.
“You don’t get a choice. Who do you think that you are, anyway?”
When I don’t answer she sighs, snapping her gum at me, and then turns back around.
As we walk down the hall, the sea of people parts in front of her. Guys are staring at her long legs as we pass and I see more than one person whispering behind their hand when they look at me.
To say that it’s uncomfortable is a bit of an understatement. I’d rather be anywhere but here, marched down the hall of this stupid school like some kind of prisoner.
It hardly gives me any time to look around, but when I do, I’m shocked. My old school was nothing like this. Not only are the walls free from graffiti, which is a definite step up anyway, but there are huge skylights above us in the hall letting in tons of natural light.
There are also gorgeous murals on the wall that look like they were painted by professionals, not by stoned art students. I slow down to get a better look at a landscape that looks like it came right out of the vineyards of France, but she jerks my arm to hurry me up, and I trip over my feet to catch up with her.
“I’m Bethany. What are you, like a freshman?” She cuts her eyes at me as she drags me down the hall.
“No, I’m a senior.” I’m struggling to keep up with her. My backpack hits my back with every step and I’m afraid I’m going to whack someone with my violin. Keeping it close to me is harder than I thought as she pulls me down the hall. The case isn’t huge, but it feels that way as we try to navigate through the halls.
“Bullshit. You’re too small to be a senior. How old are you?” Bethany stops and turns to face me, yanking me around so that I’m in front of her.
Excuse me? “I just turned 18. And I know that I look young, but not that young, that’s�
�”
She doesn’t give me a chance to finish. “Whatever. Let me see your license.” When she releases my arm and holds out her hand, I take a step back.
“I don’t have to show you my license. What are you, a bouncer?” I ask her. Who the hell is this girl? And why does she think that she runs the damn school?
Holding up her hands, she backs away. “You’re right, Elle. You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to here, and I’m certainly not going to make you do something that makes you feel uncomfortable.” Her tone has changed completely, and the little smirk that she had on her face earlier is gone.
I think that I’ve won until I notice a teacher watching us. Bethany waves and the teacher grins and waves back before ducking into her classroom. Great. Looks like everyone at this school is on this girl’s payroll. Not only does she look like she’s the most popular girl in school, but it looks like the teachers think she walks on water.
As soon as she’s gone, Bethany leans in. “18, huh? We’ll see about that. Come on, you little liar.”
Stumbling down the hall after her, I try to remember the way back, but we make a series of turns before she stops again. “Stay here and don’t move.” She snaps her fingers at me. “I’m going to get Clay. He’s just going to die when he sees you.” Her face is joyful and my stomach sinks.
After a moment, she pops back out of the classroom followed by the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen. He’s taller than me, which isn’t anything new, since most people are, but it’s not his height that has me speechless.
It’s him.
All of him.
He’s covered in muscle and I can see every fiber twisting under his clothes as he walks. The hair on the side of his head is shorter, and the top is longer, making me want to run my hand through it. Then his jaw…it’s perfectly cut and strong and leads up to the brightest blue eyes I have ever seen.
What the fuck. I didn’t think that guys like this actually existed. What’s the luck that the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen happens to go to my new school? Sure, I’d spent more than my fair share of time mooning over movie stars, but I never thought that I’d actually come this close in real life to someone who looked like him.
When I finally lock eyes with him, I smile. This is it. This is how I’m going to make a new name and have a new start. So much for blending in and just being part of the crowd. Now that I’ve seen this…this god, I don’t want to disappear. I want to be the center of his world. I didn’t have a boyfriend back home, but I want to be with him.
I don’t know anything about this guy, but he’s gorgeous and perfect. And since he’s Bethany’s brother, maybe he can get her to like me.
Even if she doesn’t like me, I’d settle for her not being such a bitch.
When I grin at him, I expect him to at least smile, but he doesn’t.
“What is this shit?” He turns to Bethany and reaches out, grabbing her by the arm and squeezing so hard that she cries out. She lashes out at him but he easily catches her other wrist, holding it tight in his hand. “Is this some sick fucking joke? Where did you find this bitch?” He gives her a little shake, still holding her arm.
This bitch? Is everyone here crazy? Raising my eyebrow at him, I lift my chin, trying to look brave, but inside I want to die. Of course, the sexiest guy I’ve ever seen hates me for some unknown reason. He’s easily got almost two feet on me and probably a hundred pounds, and he’s looking at me like he just stepped in dog shit while wearing new leather shoes.
“Let go of me, asshole!” Bethany kicks him in the shin and he drops her arm, letting her step back. She’s breathing hard and her cheeks are flushed, but she looks triumphant. “This is Elle. She’s new here.”
He looks back at me and sneers, his gorgeous features suddenly turning darker. “Elle? What the fuck kind of stupid name is that?”
He crosses his arms across his broad chest and stares at me. Bethany’s looking at me too, with a smirk on her face that I want to wipe off. What the hell is going on?
“It’s a family name,” I begin, but he stops me, holding his hands up in the air as he cuts me off.
“Woah. Nobody here gives a shit about your family name, Elle. Nobody here gives a shit about you, you got that? I don’t know where you came from, but I don’t want to see you. Ever.” He rakes his eyes over my body and I shiver. There’s nothing compassionate in his gaze.
You know what he looks like? A caged lion at the zoo. Sure, they’re strong and muscled, but they’re also wound tight and unable to relax. At some point, all caged animals go crazy and end up attacking everyone around them. I’m not sure that I want to be near him when that happens.
The guy looks like he hasn’t relaxed in a long damn time.
“Get her out of my face,” he growls at Bethany before he turns and stomps back into his classroom. I lean forward to watch him go, but Bethany reaches out and grabs my arm.
When I turn to her, she’s still grinning. “That went well! I think that you could be really good for Clay, don’t you think?” There’s a glint in her eye that I didn’t notice before. I know that it’s cliché, but I swear my blood runs cold when she looks at me.
She doesn’t want to be my friend. She wants something from me, but I’m not sure yet what it is. Parading me around the halls? Showing me off to her brother? What is going on at this school?
“What the hell was that? Why does your brother hate me?” I feel my whole body start to flush as I think about the way he looked at me. Like he wanted to destroy me.
I hate that my body responds to the way he was looking at me, but I feel a flush course through me. There’s no reason for me to be attracted to some guy who looks like he wants to kill me, but I can’t help it.
Try telling my libido to chill out when I was that close to him.
Bethany squeals. “Because you look just like his dead girlfriend! Just like her! I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for myself!” She jumps up in the air, her short skirt high on her thighs. “Hoooly shit, he was pissed. Did you see it?”
She wasn’t joking about the girl in the painting being dead. Panic squeezes at my throat and I choke it down, trying hard to breathe.
Yeah, Bethany, I saw it. I saw how the hottest guy in school already hates me because I look like his dead girlfriend. My stomach sinks as I think about what this means for the rest of the school year. There is no way that I’m going to be able to blend in now when the two of them hate me so badly. “Can you show me to class now?”
This is great. Just great. Not only do I have to look like someone who died, but apparently, it’s the girlfriend of this sexy god.
Ex-girlfriend?
Dead girlfriend? Whatever.
Bethany stops jumping and looks at me. Absentmindedly, she twirls a bit of hair around her finger while she thinks. “I can. But I have to show you to the squad first. Do you cheer? That would be perfect!”
The bell rings as she latches onto my arm again and starts to drag me down the hall. I protest, but she ignores me. “You’ll be late, but it doesn’t matter. Just tell them that I was showing you around the school and it’ll be fine!”
“No, but, my class,” I say, but her nails dig into my skin. I’d noticed before that they are perfectly manicured, each one a sharp red oval that cuts easily into my arm. She stamps her foot and looks at me, her eyes sharp and angry.
My heart pounds in my chest as I think about what it would be like to be late to class on my first day at a new school. I don’t like being the center of attention. I don’t like anyone knowing my name.
The plan is for me to blend in, make it through my senior year, and then disappear. I want to get as far away from my mom and Ted as possible. Mentally I add Bethany and Clay to the list of people I can’t wait to leave behind when I graduate.
“Who gives a shit about your class? You look just like her. Come on!”
Faces swirl by us as she drags me down the hall. Everyone who’s still in the h
all is staring at me. Nobody looks particularly friendly. They all look interested. That I expected since I’m new.
But the way that Clay reacted when he saw me? I definitely didn’t expect that. I almost drop my violin in an effort to keep up with Bethany as she scurries along.
Clay
That was bullshit.
Even from Bethany, who’s a damn bitch sometimes, that was a little much.
It’s Monday, which is already the shittiest day of the week, and I’m supposed to deal with seeing someone who looks just like my fucking dead girlfriend before the first bell even rings? Fuck that.
And fuck her. Who the hell does she think she is coming to my school and looking like she doesn’t know the history of the place? There’s a damn painting of Tiffany in the front hallway, and having to walk by that every day when I’m the one who killed her is bad enough.
But now seeing someone who looks just like her walk around alive and happy? Bullshit.
I know that the school thinks that I need to see a therapist to work through my unresolved issues surrounding Bethany’s death, but there’s not a chance that that’s going to happen. I was starting to feel…well, not better, exactly, but not as terrible about what happened.
Then Elle showed up, looking just like Tiffany.
Well, not quite exactly like her. Tiffany looked more confident and had a bit more meat on her bones. This new girl, Elle, looks like a budget version of her at best. She’s a rip-off copy, a shadow. She’s what people buy when they don’t know the value of the real thing.
I wear Italian leather. I don’t fuck around with faux versions of things, especially faux versions of Tiffany.
“Everything okay, Mr. Bryson?” My head snaps up as Mr. Tate, my English teacher calls on me. Twenty people turn around in their chairs to stare at me. Most of their eyes are wide with concern or adoration, but one person rolls his at me.
Teague. Asshole knows that he can get away with damn near anything he wants when it comes to me and I won’t ever give him shit. I was pissed at him at the funeral, but that all settled down. We’re good now, back to where we belong. He’s like my family, even more than my real family sometimes.
