St Mary's Academy Series Box Set 1

by Seven Steps

  “Normal is for suckers,” Ariel said. “If you want this guy, we are going to wrap him up in wrapping paper, tie a bow around his forehead, and deliver him to you on a golden platter. And do you know why?” Ariel’s eyes burned into mine. “Because you deserve it. You stuck with Bella when she went crazy, you stick with me when I went crazy, now it’s your turn to go crazy and find a boyfriend.”

  I grimaced. “Is it necessary that I go crazy first?”

  Ariel smiled. “Only if you want to, sweetie.”

  I groaned and let my head roll back in defeat.

  “Fine,” I grumbled. “What’s the plan?”

  “I’m glad you asked,” Bella said, producing a notebook.

  “You have a notebook?” Sophia asked. “Wow, you guys are really prepared for stuff like this.” She nudged Purity. “We should take notes.”

  “No, thanks,” Purity said. “I’m more of an off the cuff kind of girl.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You know. Like love at first sight. One look and we knew. Insta-love. All that good stuff.”

  Sophia waved the comment away. “Girl, that’s nothing more than lust and pheromones.”

  Purity shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe not.”

  “Sister-wife, you have a lot to learn about love and life.”

  “Wow,” Ariel said. “Aren’t we a hypocrite?”

  Sophia looked shocked. “Who? Me?”

  “Yes. Wasn’t there a certain someone you told me about? A certain, Mr. I Wish He Were Mr. Right?”

  Sophia blushed. Her eyes took on a faraway expression as if recalling the mystery guy right at that very moment.

  “Lust and pheromones,” she said. But her voice was too soft and dreamy now. I could tell she was re-evaluating her position on the matter.

  “What about you?” Purity asked me. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never had it happen to me before. I mean, I’ve read about it, but who knows if it’s real or not.”

  Eric spoke up, “Well, I believe in it.” He threw his arm around Ariel’s shoulders. “When I first saw Ariel, I knew she was the one for me.”

  “But how did you know?” Cole asked.

  Eric shook his head. “I don’t know. Something just clicked. Like two jigsaw puzzle pieces snapping into place. You just… know.”

  Ariel smiled at him. “I felt it too. I mean, I’d been low-key stalking you before that, but I felt it at The Center that day.”

  I laughed. Ariel had crushed hard on Eric before they met. They’d even played online games together before he knew who she was. It’d taken some extraordinary circumstances, but they finally got together.

  Bella put her hand over her heart.

  “Aww, how romantic.” She shoved her elbow back, and it hit Cole right in the solar plexus. He rubbed at the sore spot. “Babe, isn’t it romantic that he loved her the first time he saw her?”

  “Yes, but that’s not us. You were in love with my psycho brother, remember?”

  “I wasn’t talking about me. I was talking about you.”

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and she shimmied closer to him. “As I recall, you hated me.” He put his chin on top of her head. “You told me you’d rather be eaten by a lion than be with me.”

  Bella rolled her eyes. “That’s not an excuse.”

  They narrowed their eyes at each other, but I could tell they were just teasing.

  Sophia stuck her fingers down her throat in a mock gagging gesture.

  “Don’t you boys have a football game you should be playing?” she asked. “This is girl time.”

  “You’re evicting us?” Cole asked.

  “Yes,” Sophia said. “However, if you can produce a hot, not psycho guy into our friend group, then you will be un-evicted.”

  “How can we verify the hot part?” Eric asked. “I'm not a really good judge of other guys.”

  Sophia shrugged. “I will leave that part up to you to figure out.”

  We finished our lunch and chatted until the bell rang.

  “Aww,” Bella said. “I got distracted and didn’t get to talk about my notebook.”

  I held my hand out. “Why don’t you give it to me? I’ll review it before the party tonight.”

  Bella’s face lit up. “Promise?”

  I smiled. “Promise.”

  She handed me the book and pulled me into a tight hug.

  “Tonight’s going to be great. And don’t worry. We’ll have everything under control. You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

  I closed my eyes and hugged her back before letting go.

  They would have everything under control. That meant I wouldn’t be in control.

  I hated not being in control. I wanted, needed to know I was firmly in the driver's seat of my own life. Letting my friends take the wheel made my whole body hurt.

  I tucked the notebook under one arm, while depositing my trash and food tray in the proper receptacles.

  Out of habit, or something else, I looked out of the window and spied Ollie sitting atop the red dumpster. He was laughing, and his mouth was opening and closing rhythmically. Like he was singing a song. His three friends were on the ground in front of him. Their mouths were moving the same way.

  What song were they singing? Was it something I knew? Why did they suddenly spend their lunch on top of a dumpster? Was it to get away from Ursula? Didn’t they eat? And why didn’t the teachers or security guards chase them back inside? Surely if I saw them, someone else did too.

  As if on cue Ollie’s face turned, and he gave me his standard wink.

  I frowned.

  His mouth kept moving. Singing words to a song I didn't know.

  I squeezed my lips together and, for a brief second, allowed my curiosity free. I stared at his lips, trying to read them.

  I tried my hardest not to notice how nice his lips were. They were full. Smooth. Kissable. Like Jensen Ackles, Chris Evans, and Ian Somerhalder all mashed together. He gave me a flirty grin, putting those lips on full display.

  For the record, my mouth did not just go dry. I was just thirsty. I didn't have a lot of water at lunch. It had absolutely nothing to do with Ollie Santiago.

  Someone grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the door. It was Purity.

  “Don’t pay attention to boys who eat on dumpsters,” she said. “You’ll only end up bagging yourself a rat.”

  Then she shoved me out the door and into the hallway.

  9

  I was standing in an empty hallway, in front of a blank wall that would be the backdrop for the greatest mural this school had ever seen.

  Or at least I hoped it would.

  Sketchbook in hand, I walked the length and breadth of the wall, deciding the perfect place for every stone, flower, tree, and blade of grass. I had finally settled on my style. The mural would be inspired by Irises by Van Gogh, with the same strong outlines, interesting angles and bold colors.

  Hopefully, the school, and Devinta, would like it.

  I chewed on the end of my pencil as I made a mental draft.

  “Don’t chew too hard on that pencil. If you choke, I’ll be forced to put it on YouTube.”

  I frowned and turned to Ollie in surprise.

  “You made it.” Honestly, I hadn’t expected him to show up at all.

  “When the warden calls, I’m compelled to answer. Against my will, of course.” He gave me a tight smile.

  I gave him one back.

  “But, if you want me to go, all it would take it is one conversation with Mr. Mann.” He ran his hands through his already messy black hair. I tried not to notice how perfectly imperfect it looked next to his olive skin. “I can be a real pain in the butt when I want to be.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

  He shook his head and looked at the wall. “More like a statement of character. Just letting you know what you’re in for if you want me to be part of this duo.” />
  “I already know what I’m in for, thank you very much.”

  “You have no idea, Princess.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Are you finished? We have work to do.”

  “Work? Sorry to tell you, but work and I aren't simpatico at the moment. I think I'll just hang back and watch.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek as aggravation pulsed through me.

  “I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It's not like you’ve ever been helpful in your entire life.”

  “Say the word to Mann and I'll be out of your hair.”

  “Mr. Mann wants you to help me do the mural.”

  “Surprise, surprise. The Princess is doing whatever she's told to do just like a good girl.” He said good girl like he was talking to a dog, which turned my anger to rage. He was literally the rudest person I'd ever met. “You’ve never had one original thought in your entire life, have you?”

  “You don't know anything about my life.”

  He crossed his arms and looked pleased with himself. Like he had me all figured out.

  “I know you’re just another rich girl who only cares about herself and existing in her perfect bubble.”

  I scoffed. “My life is far from perfect.”

  “Why? Did your daddy get you a blue private jet instead of a pink bedazzled one?”

  “You’re a jerk. You know that, right?”

  “Noted.”

  I sucked my teeth and turned away.

  “Okay, Princess.” His voice came from behind me now. Like a little devil on my left shoulder. “Tell me one imperfect thing that's happened in your life and I’ll leave you alone about it.”

  He’d leave me alone. This was a deal I couldn’t resist.

  I turned back to him and crossed my arms.

  “Fine.” I paused a minute, searching my brain for just one thing in my messy life I felt comfortable opening up to Ollie’s scrutiny.

  Finally, I decided on one and tipped up my chin in a show of hubris. “I exist at the bottom of the social ladder. There. Now you know one imperfect thing about me.”

  I don’t know what I expected, but I didn’t expect for him to burst out laughing.

  “That’s your thing? That’s what makes your life miserable? Wow, Princess.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “You are more deluded than I thought.”

  Deluded? Was that what he thought of me? Not that I cared. Oliver Santiago could go play in traffic for all I cared. But deluded?

  “Fine. Name something imperfect about your life.”

  His laughter dropped down to chuckle levels.

  “Me? Easy. I have crazy Ursula Meyers trying to tackle me in the hallway every day. She’s even taken to threatening Jean because she views her as competition. You want to know fear? Try having that crazy chick stalking you. You’re complaining about being at the bottom of the social ladder, and I have to worry about being sexually assaulted every day. So, A for effort, Princess. You may think you have issues, but really, they’re more like slight inconveniences.”

  My temper burned. Who was Ollie to diminish what I thought was a problem? One thing was sure. I was not going to sit back and be outdone by him. My life was far from perfect and I was determined to prove that to him right now. If only to wash that smug grin from his face.

  “Fine. I haven’t seen my four brothers in a year because my house is literally a parental war zone.”

  “My father is literally the meanest person I’ve ever met.”

  “I haven’t had a conversation with my father since I was twelve.”

  “I haven’t seen my father since freshman year.”

  “My parents hate each other.”

  “At least you have two of them.”

  “What’s the benefit when all they do is either drag you into their arguments or pretend you don’t exist?”

  “The benefit is that you get to look your mom in the eyes. You get to hold her and smell her breath.” His eyes burned into mine. “I get to sit at my mom’s grave. And ever since I got to this school, I can’t even do that anymore.”

  The fire in his eyes was overtaken by another emotion.

  Vulnerability.

  Sadness.

  Pain.

  He turned away and we stood in silence for a while, both of us needing to cool off from our unexpected outburst.

  “I guess both our lives are pretty screwed up,” I said.

  He grunted in response.

  I rolled my foot and examined the floor beneath the soles of my shoes.

  “Sorry about your mom,” I said.

  He let out a huff of air, and I watched him wipe his nose before turning around.

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  He examined me then, the anger cooling between us to a sort of uncomfortable truce. His hands found their way into his pockets and he jerked his chin at my sketchbook.

  “Are there actual sketches hidden in there or just pictures of pretty flowers?”

  Uncertainty filled my chest, followed by a small ray of hope. Maybe we would get somewhere today after all.

  I handed him my sketchbook. The second it left my possession, my heart went into overdrive. I never let anyone look at my sketchbook. Not even my friends. To have someone like Ollie roughly flipping through the pages felt like he was looking through my diary.

  He stared at my drawings in confusion, as if I’d asked him to decipher Sanskrit. I shoved my shaking hands in my pockets.

  “I’m thinking of doing a floral scene,” I said, trying to ease the tension that had fallen between us.

  “I see. Why is it always flowers with you chicks?” He turned the notebook upside down, as if that would change the image. “Everything you paint is a rose or an orchid or a calla lily or some other garbage.”

  My stomach dropped. I wasn’t seeking Ollie’s approval, but it still hurt that he didn’t like my idea. If he didn’t like it, would the principal like it? Would Devinta Holly like it?

  “I won the contest with a flower,” I weakly argued.

  He handed the sketchbook back to me.

  “Yeah. I noticed.” He stepped forward and ran his hand along the wall. “Well, it’s primed and ready. Let’s get this over with.”

  Wait. He was going to help me?

  He held out his hand, but I was too shocked to move. He craned his head and looked at me expectantly.

  “Brush?” he asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I didn’t bring any supplies. This was a mental draft.”

  “A mental draft?”

  “It’s where you look at your canvas and think about what you’re going to paint.”

  He scoffed. “I don’t do mental drafts.”

  “Then how do you know what you’re going to paint?”

  “I put a brush in my hand and see what comes out. That’s what art is. Diving in and letting your soul do the work. Too much thinking makes for bad art.”

  I leaned on my hip and fiddled with my sketchbook.

  “Do you think this mural will be bad art?” I asked.

  He sighed. “Why don’t you come find me when you have a paintbrush, okay Princess?”

  His non-answer was like a slap to the face.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Isn’t that answer enough?”

  I rocked back only my heels, steadying myself. I didn’t want to ask him what I should paint. That would be like handing him the reins to this mural and I wanted to be perfectly clear this project was mine, no matter who was helping me. But his obvious dislike of my idea did sting.

  I opened my sketchbook and started flipping the pages.

  I kept my voice casual, as if I didn’t care what he thought, even though I kind of did.

  “I had other ideas, you know. Different ideas.”

  I sensed him step toward me. His hand shot out, gesturing for my book again. I turned to the page I was looking for and handed it to him. I crossed my arms and looked at everywhere but him, waiting for him to speak up. My gut twisted and flipped
in anticipation. My breathing shallowed. Would he like them, or hate them?

  “That one,” he said finally. He handed me the open book and I quickly examined the page. It was a self-portrait I’d been working on. It was smudged from all the erasing and the features weren’t right.

  “This?”

  “Yeah. This.” He looked toward the wall then ambled toward it. His hand went to his chin, stroking it thoughtfully.

  “But it isn’t even finished.”

  “That’s why it’s going to be the best.”

  “But… but I can’t paint this. I can’t get the eyes right and the nose is weird.”

  “Good. We’ll have something to work on then.”

  “Ollie, this picture sucks. It’s by far my worst work.”

  He turned to me, a glint in his eye. I wondered if it was a part of the same hope I’d felt earlier. “I had a friend who once told me that redwood seeds are, by far, the strongest things on the planet. Do you know what that means?”

  I shook my head.

  “It means they have to figure out how to go from a tiny seed, only an eighth of an inch long, to a tree that’s three hundred feet high. You know how they do it?”

  I shook my head, strangely enthralled as his philosophic turn.

  “They dig in and they get to growing. Now you may think that your portrait sucks, but it’s just a seed. A starting point. We just have to dig in, and start it growing until it’s the best portrait the world has ever seen. You up for that?”

  At some point in his speech, he’d moved closer. Enthusiasm burned in his eyes. His straight back and confident tone had transformed him from the boy I’d called a degenerate, to a boy I was ready to follow into battle.

  What was this new side of Ollie and where had he been this whole time?

  I’d started to nod when cackles echoed down the hallway. I turned toward the sound.

  Three students sauntered in our direction.

  Blue-haired Jean.

  Giant Able.

  And Goatee Jeff.

  They were the same three I’d seen Ollie hanging out with during lunch.

  “Well, well, well,” Jeff said. “Look who's gone mainstream.”

  Any advancement I’d made with Ollie today quickly dissipated. His shoulders slumped, and his enthusiasm vanished. Coolness drifted between us like a thick fog. I felt him rebuilding the wall we’d just starting to break through.