by Jaymin Eve
Thriving hub. That might be a bit of an exaggeration.
“Part three and four will look at some American history in general, and how it pertains to the Pacific Northwest.”
Well, at least there was some general history in there also, although still well slanted toward Astoria and this school. Gotta give them points for pride and patriotism. Mr. Perkins spent the rest of the lesson going over the plan for the year. No one around me was paying attention, but I was already enjoying learning about this new world I’d found myself in. The best way to understand this school and its cliquey groups was to learn from the past. Find out how the four founders came to rule this school, and according to Mr. Perkins, Astoria also.
The bell rang and noises echoed as everyone pushed out their chairs and gathered books. I wasted no time, wanting to get out of there before the elite, just in case they decided to retaliate for my little dig before. I expected they had completely forgotten my existence by now, but just in case it didn’t hurt to haul ass.
Once I was free of the room I whipped out my timetable, searching for my English class on the little map. A quick glance was all I needed to see that it was on the other side of the main domed section of this building, down another arterial. Picking up the pace, I jumped on a walkway that was moving in the direction I needed to go. These unusual paths seemed to be all over the school. They weren’t exactly encouraging exercise here, but I guess in a school this size they had to incorporate some sort of conveniences.
I could see lots of other students zipping past, some ahead of me on my particular path, others jumping on and off via small gaps in the side. I wasn’t sure I’d be very good at that part. Most likely I’d fall flat on my face and give everyone here a good laugh. Thankfully, for my first solo ride I only had to step off the end, which was easy. Then I was jogging past the administration office and onto another moving path. I kept an eye out, counting the classroom doors as we passed them, and when mine was next I braced myself for the exit.
There was nothing graceful about my leap and the “ouch” that burst from me as my right knee collided with a poor student who had been just standing there minding his own business. By the time I’d untangled myself and stepped back, Cara was right there at my side.
“Emma! Dude, we need to work on your dismount. You would not even be close to medal contention.”
With another groan I rubbed my knee, lifting my head to the guy I’d smacked. “I am so sorry,” I said rapidly. “I hope you’re okay!”
The first thing I noticed were his eyes. Seemed everyone in this school was blessed with pretty eyes. His were the lightest of green, sparkling as he grinned down at me. “I have to say, beautiful women throwing themselves at me is not my usual thing, but I’m going take it as a sign that you and I need to become friends.”
He stuck his hand out, that smile growing even wider. “Ben Witchard. Senior. Performing arts major. Your new BFF.”
Ben was tall and lanky, his stunning eyes surrounded by dark-as-night lashes, skin a pale ivory, and hair a mess of brown corkscrew curls. Everything about him screamed warmth, and I immediately liked him. I placed my hand into his and he shook it with a firm grip.
“I’m Emma Walters. Senior. Bookworm. Poor and on a scholarship.”
Might as well give him the dirty truth straight up front. That way he could retract his BFF statement. Instead of backing up as I expected, he wrapped an arm around me. I waited for the urge to wrench myself free, but for some reason it didn’t come.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Emma Walters. My family has more money than God, so we balance each other out. Although, since I decided to tell them I bat for the team who likes boys, things haven’t been so happy in the Witchard house. I’d rather be poor. Can I live with you?”
I snorted, my hand covering my mouth by instinct. “I’m not sure you’d like it all that much. I live on this weird gated street and they have security—” I was cut off as Ben let out a low hoot. “What?” I asked, blinking at him like he’d just lost his mind.
When he didn’t answer immediately I couldn’t help glance around, worried an elite was about to ambush me, but there didn’t seem to be any exceptionally tall and beautiful people in our vicinity.
“You live on Daelight?” His voice was just above a whisper, each word said slowly, announced with perfect clarity. Like he almost couldn’t believe what he was saying.
Throwing both hands in the air, I shrugged out of Ben’s hug and faced them both. “What’s up with this street? Honestly, the way this town acts, you’d think it was where the Queen of England resided.”
That would certainly explain the royal abode.
Cara leaned in closer. “Sooo much better than the Queen of England, girl. It’s the kings of Astoria.”
Clearly Cara had taken our history class before and was now another person putting Astoria and its history above an entire country. Before I could remark on that though, Ben joined her crazy-party-for-one: “All of the elite live there, those descended from the founding fathers. They make my family look destitute with their money and power. They literally run this school and the town.”
“The entire state,” Cara added. “I have heard they have an in-line to the president himself, and can get pretty much anything they want or need.”
For God’s sake, next thing they were going to tell me they peed gold and breathed fire, like magical, mythical creatures. “Look, even though I live on Daelight, I haven’t seen any elites. They live on the rich mansion side and we aren’t allowed to cross over there.”
Cara gave me a look, like the one she had given me on the bus when she mentioned the things she had to tell me later. “Be careful, Emma. They are very serious about their rules in that place. The stories…” She trailed off, shuddering a little.
I expected Ben to laugh also, but instead he also got strangely grave. “My family have these huge parties and sometimes they make an appearance. Don’t trust them.” He didn’t elaborate, but his warning was clear.
I forced out a strangled laugh. “Don’t worry, guys, I have no plans to play with the heavy hitters of Astoria. I can barely keep cereal in my house and shoes on my feet. My concerns trump my interest in them.”
Their twin looks of worry faded into something which resembled sadness, and since the last thing I wanted was anyone’s pity, I opened my mouth to change the subject. Before I could, though, the teacher arrived and ushered us into the classroom. This time I stayed close to my new friends, and was relieved to see that the same back corner was off limits here. That made it much easier for me to know to avoid that area in all classes. As I took a seat next to Ben, I realized that none of the elite were in this class yet, and I wondered if those seats were left empty even if no one came.
Right as the final bell rang, two unnaturally perfect specimens of humans entered the room and headed for the back corner. I recognized one. It was Lexen, the extra huge, extra intriguing part of the Darkens’ trio. With him was a petite brunette. She did not have the legs of the redhead, but she was probably even more beautiful, if that was possible. Long, silky hair as dark and glossy as a raven feather cascaded in thick waves to her mid-back. She had ivory skin, and full pink lips, which were pressed together hard as if she was fighting to hold back a scream. Her eyes, shaped to indicate a heritage somewhere in Asia, were almost as dark as the guy’s beside her.
Despite all the warnings, and my own internal annoyance at the way they acted in this school and town, I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on Lexen. There was something in the way he held himself. It was fascinating, like a lion waiting patiently in the grass. There was no doubt they had their predator eyes locked on everything. Lexen was like that just sitting behind his desk – making it look ridiculously small I should add. Like the other elites I had seen, he carried no books or a laptop. Did none of them need to take notes? Probably they just paid for perfect grades.
Starlit darkness smashed into me then, our gazes holding for a few beats
past comfortable, and I knew exactly how it felt to be prey. Through sheer force of will I managed to tear my gaze away from Lexen’s. Everything inside of me was screaming to stay off his – and all the elites’ – radars. To avoid drawing even a small amount of their attention. I had to be more careful.
Thankfully the rest of my morning classes passed without incident. By lunchtime I was starting to get a feel for my new school. I had even grown somewhat accustomed to being surrounded by the odd but convenient technology.
Cara was waiting at our lockers. We’d decided earlier we would walk to lunch together. We both dumped everything inside, and with our “poor people” cards clutched in our hands, we took the moving paths toward the cafeteria. The entire school ate lunch at the same time here, which was another first for me. In my last school we’d been split up between different years. Here … well, apparently here they liked to encourage school togetherness. As we stepped into the cafeteria, I understood why it worked so well.
“Holy freaking hell!” My words were a breathless whisper, eyes no doubt as large as saucers while I tried to take in the mammoth structure.
Cara chuckled. “Yeah, they like to impress here at Starslight. Got to make it comfortable for all the future presidential candidates they’re teaching.”
Comfortable was a slight understatement. This was pure luxury. Everything inside was white and shiny; the building was dome-shaped, the ceiling at least thirty feet above our heads. All of the walls and the entire ceiling were made from thick, octagonal windows that fit into each other, forming the structure. They allowed the room to be filled with light and warmth despite the usual inclement weather of Astoria. There were different levels, and sectioned off areas, and as we moved into the main path Cara steered me toward the center of the room, where there was a huge buffet.
“So … we’re allowed to choose from any food with a red tag. The students who aren’t on scholarships can choose from anything in this section, and the elite have their own separate section up there.” She pointed to a raised platform above us. It jutted out almost like a viewing stage across the entire domed room.
“Where do the seniors eat?” I looked around, trying to get the lay of the land, figure out the social cliques.
Cara, who was still focused on the upper elite platform, finally pulled her gaze away and returned it to me. “There is no separation by grade here, mostly just elite and the rest of us. Don’t sit in the elite section and you’ll be fine.”
I shrugged. Well, that should be easy enough.
The line wasn’t very long. The buffet wound for about twenty feet; students were filling their plates as they walked. When Cara and I reached the start of the shiny silver stand, she showed me where to scan my card, then a red tray drifted along a small conveyer belt to stop in front of me.
“Just in case we forget our place, I’m guessing.” My nose wrinkled as some of my awe over this beautiful shiny room wore off. Cara said there was no segregation on this level, but by giving me a red tray they were ensuring everyone here knew we were the scholarship students. Which was confirmed when Cara said hesitantly, “It’s more so that the serving staff don’t accidentally feed us the wrong stuff.”
Right. I was silent as we followed a chatting pair of students. They looked much younger than me but were so filled with confidence, smiles and laughter, talking about parties and shopping for bags, it was like these girls were aliens. I had never felt so out of place in my life. For the past eight months I had lived in a grief bubble, barely even noticing the outside world, basically just forcing myself to breathe, take one step after another, eat my meals, and try not to lose my mind with grief. As the veil of my grief was lifting, I was realizing I wasn’t the same person anymore. The death of my parents had changed me. Fundamentally. And now I had to figure out who the new Emma was.
As I followed the path of the buffet, I realized what Cara meant about red food. There were tags above each hot and cold dish stating what it was, and those tags were colored. I tried not to look at the dishes I wasn’t allowed. I would focus on the fact that no matter how bad the food situation at home got, I was able to eat something here.
Surprisingly enough, the red section was not bad at all. I tended to prefer fruit, salad, and vegetables, if I had the choice, so I ended up with white-sauced pasta, a bread roll, a cup of very fresh-looking fruit salad, and a small-crumbed piece of chicken for a shot of protein. Orange juice and bottled water finished off my selection. I stepped to the side and waited for Cara. My stomach growled as I stared at my tray, desperate to shovel food in my mouth but determined to not act like a crazy person raised in a jungle.
“God damn, they have ribs in the purple,” Cara complained as we walked away. “I made the kitchen staff promise me the ribs would be red one day, but so far it has not happened.”
I didn’t say anything. This was one of the better meals I’d had in a long time, and since I’d skipped over everything I wasn’t allowed, I had no idea what I was missing out on.
Even in here all of the benches were padded and so comfortable. My hands visibly shook as I reached for my cutlery, the hunger pangs almost too bad to handle. Somehow I forced myself to take a long drink of water first, before using my fork and knife to cut off small sections of a surprisingly moist chicken breast, all the while listening to Cara ramble on about everything that came to mind.
I was really starting to like having a bubbly, outgoing friend. She never let awkward silences happen, and expected very little input from me. When I was halfway through the pasta, my stomach started to rebel and I knew I needed to stop. It went against all my instincts to leave food behind now, especially with the Finnegans still missing and my food situation at home standing solidly at zero. But if I ate any more, I would be sick.
Just as I dropped my fork, Ben hopped into the seat on my left. “Hey there,” he said, flashing that wide grin of his. “Figured since we’re new BFFs, we need to hang out during lunch.”
I returned his smile, glancing above his head to find two more girls hovering there, both small and blond. That was where the similarities ended. One had piercing blue eyes that were shrewd and assessing. Ben introduced her as Samantha. The other had thick glasses, deep brown eyes, and a dreamy quality in her gaze. She was Lace, resident hippy apparently.
“Sammy and Lace are old friends of mine. We grew up together in the same asshole neighborhood,” he said. He then waved toward a short guy who had just appeared. The new guy had longish brown hair, a serious brow, and glasses almost as thick as Lace’s. “This is Derek. He runs the geek squad here, has no problem with me being gay, has never been to a party, and somehow manages to be one of the coolest people in this school.”
Derek’s surprisingly full lips tipped up as he dropped down on the other side of Lace, both of them across from me and Cara. “It’s nice to meet you, Emma,” he said. “Ben told us all about you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” I said as I shook his hand. He then proceeded to pull out a massive textbook, opening it next to his tray.
“Sorry to be rude, but I have a test in a few days and I like to read ahead.”
Samantha snorted. “Don’t let him fool you. He enjoys reading textbooks, and he’s usually a year or two ahead of all class assigned reading.” She then picked up her salad bowl. It was the only thing on her tray, which was a dark purple. She could have had her choice from all of that delicious food and had only taken a salad.
I immediately distrusted her.
“Emma, tell us about yourself. Did you just move to Astoria?” Lace leaned across the table toward me as she asked the question. A question which was innocent, but which brought forth so many of the dark memories I was trying to keep contained inside.
Swallowing hard, I attempted to think of something to say that would assuage their curiosity without revealing the last tragic eight months of my life.
“Yes, we just moved here. My guardians travel a lot for their job, but we’re here in Astoria for the r
est of my senior year. They promised me we wouldn’t move again before I went to college.”
“Are they in the army?” Cara asked, her tray now pushed to the side as she too was finished.
I let out a bit of a chuckle, giving a noncommittal shrug. “No, they do some consulting, and computer stuff.”
I had learned it was better to give answers and be vague than to refuse to answer at all. If you acted like it was a big deal or a secret, it would rouse their interest. With Michael and Sara’s crazy theories and lifestyle, it was just easier to pretend they were consultants. No one actually knew what a consultant did. It was one of those jobs that wasn’t really a job and explained away lots of business ventures.
Ben changed the subject then; his pale skin lit up as he said, “Are we all going to Trey’s on Friday night? The first party back of the school year is always the most epic.” He turned toward me, reaching across to grab my hand. “You have to come, Emma. The elite parties are insane. They usually have them at these crazy locations, in the middle of nowhere.”
I shifted in my seat, subtly pulling my hand free from his grasp. “I’m not really much of a party person.” Something occurred to me then, so I added, “And how do you get invited to the elite parties anyway?”
Samantha answered, a slight softening on her face. It made her look much more approachable. “Our family is the rung below the elite. We’re rich – well, compared to Ben’s family we are well-off. They are billionaires – so we all get invited to the social gatherings.”
“And we can bring you along!” Ben added, still looking far too excited. He was a partier, that was immediately obvious. I’d put my money down on him being the one still dancing at 5 A.M when everyone else was asleep or passed out.
They were all looking at me, Cara included, so I finally said, “I’ll think about it. I have to ask my guardians.”
I couldn’t imagine Sara or Michael ever saying no to something like that, but it was rude to just assume it would be cool. They’d be home this afternoon. They had to be. I couldn’t consider any other options.
