by Jenni Sloane
I jerked to attention as I realized what she was about to say. No. No, no, please. I felt a physical urge to stand and fly at her, to keep her from saying any more.
“We’ve taken on the Strathmore Challenge. That means one student from a family that wouldn’t normally be able to afford Strathmore’s tuition is here on a scholarship. This student is someone who presents a particular challenge to Strathmore, but who we are confident we can transform.”
This had to be illegal, right? This level of public humiliation. If I told Twitter about this, the media would come down on Strathmore like a hail of bricks, right?
But some part of me could sense, without being told, that what was so terrifying about Strathmore Reform was that it was untouchable.
The next words sank my heart into my stomach. “Amma Reiter? Will you stand up, please?”
I thought I wasn’t going to be able to do it. My legs were shaking, my hands so sweaty I couldn’t even get a grip on my desk to help push myself up.
But somehow I rose to my feet, obeying like a dog, the way I had my whole life. Every eye in the room was on me. Students were snickering, whispering.
“Ms. Reiter,” Ms. Callahan said, in a voice that suggested she was getting a great deal of enjoyment out of this. “I understand that you are troubled. I understand that it will take work on both your part and Strathmore’s to make you into the best version of yourself. But it can be done. I promise you.” She paused, and I flicked my gaze up long enough to see her staring at me with those dark eyes. “You may sit,” she said, biting off the last word.
As I sank into my chair, Cole shifted. “Amma Reiter,” he said musingly, under his breath. Then he inhaled slowly, mouth open like he was about to say something.
Instead, he leaned back and manspread as wide as possible. Eventually he whispered, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him: “I’d forgotten your name, TT. Never seemed worth learning. But you know what I won’t forget? Ever?” He drummed his fingers briefly on the desk, then leaned sideways, toward me. His breath tickled hotly against the edge of my ear. I shuddered, that strange shudder from Halloween, full of fear and humiliation and something else. Something I didn’t want to understand. His words, soft as they were, buried themselves in me like knives. “The fact that you put me here.”
Chapter Two
“You ratted him out?” Kayle stared at me in disbelief. “Cole Heller? To the police?”
“No!” I protested, dipping a French fry tentatively into a cup of disturbingly gray ranch dressing. “I just…told the truth.”
We were in the cafeteria, sitting across from each other at the very end of one of the long tables, away from everyone else. We each had, on our puke-colored trays, green beans that looked like they were disintegrating, cold, soggy fries, and a slab of gelatinous meat that was supposed to be Salisbury steak.
I’d just finished giving Kayle the abridged version of what had happened on Halloween night. Maybe it was stupid to trust her when I barely knew her, but there was something about her that I found reassuring. So far nobody had been interested in my side of the story. It felt good to tell it.
The whole tale had come out in such a rush, I’d been surprised she could follow. But she’d hung on every word. I kept a few details to myself—particularly those last moments when I was in the Bakers’ driveway, before my parents shoved me toward the car.
Bennett had been standing by a tombstone, holding Cole’s baseball bat across the back of his neck, his hands draped casually over either end. He wasn’t looking at the police, or me, or his family. My parents were still hysterical, asking me how I could do such a thing, what was wrong with me, did I realize I’d be paying for the damage all by myself?…on and on. I was embarrassed and still terrified, and so I focused on Bennett.
One of the police officers, a woman with deep wrinkles between her brows and her dark hair in a bun, addressed Bennett: “Your call said there was more than one person on the CCTV. Any idea who the other culprits were?”
He didn’t answer.
I waited for him to tell them about Cole.
He shook his head slowly. “No idea.”
I gaped. How could he lie like that? He’d chased Cole. He’d shouted at him with a fury that suggested this wasn’t the first time they’d confronted one another. Why wouldn’t he jump at this chance to get Cole in trouble?
And then it hit me: He was afraid.
I didn’t know Cole’s whole story. Rumor had it he’d once been considered a wrong-side-of-the-tracks kid. Then, about three years ago, his mother had come into some money, and had married a man named Reed Lawrence—a media mogul with a lot of money. But Reed—so the story went—didn’t consider Addie Heller’s kids his own sons. Didn’t spend money on them unless there was something in it for him. So Cole had continued to attend Monroe High, with the peasants. Yet his stepdad’s reputation and fortune protected him from retribution as he continued his reign of terror.
Still, why would Bennett be afraid of Cole? The Bakers were old money. The Hellers were new money, and Cole was still basically no money—not without Stepdaddy’s say-so.
I’d studied Bennett, hoping for more clues as to why he was protecting Cole.
Mrs. Bennett was standing over one of the birdbaths like it was a beloved pet that had been run over. Going on and on about the bird bath’s history, how much it was worth, how she didn’t care about the money, she was just devastated about not seeing the little starlings bathing there anymore. I was pretty sure she had enough money for as many new birdbaths as she wanted, but I didn’t say so.
The officer turned to me, and even though the shadows of the falling night, I thought I caught a look of sympathy. “Amma? I think things will go easier for you if you tell us who was here with you.”
I couldn’t speak. Just stood there, arms crossed over the ripped front of my dress, shivering.
Eventually the officer sighed and told her partner, “Pull the security footage. The lighting’s not great, and they might have been wearing costumes, so this could be tricky.”
“Cole.” My voice was so soft, I didn’t expect anyone to hear it. But the officer paused, looking at me.
“Amma?” The officer sounded both encouraging and warning.
“Cole Heller,” I said, louder.
Bennett was staring at me with his mouth slightly agape. No doubt wondering how I could risk Cole’s ire. But I felt the ripped fabric of my dress against my skin. The ache in my scalp where my wig had been torn off. Remembered the terror of having my face shoved into the bird bath—gasping for air and getting a shower of filthy water in my lungs.
Looking straight into Bennett’s eyes, I repeated, at full volume: “It was Cole Heller.”
“Um, earth to Amma?” Kayle was saying now. “What do you mean, not exactly?”
“They would have found out anyway from the camera footage.” I said lamely. “I just told the truth.”
“Does Cole see it that way?” Kayle dumped a tiny packet of black pepper on her wilted salad. “He was giving you dirty looks all through orientation.”
“I think he has a different interpretation of events,” I said slowly, stabbing at a green bean but making no move to bring it to my mouth. Understatement of the century. “And it’s not like it made any difference. I’ve got a brother in prison and parents who’re convinced I’m gonna turn out just like him.”
“Your brother’s in prison?”
I nodded. “Four years so far.”
“Wow. Your story’s crazier than mine,” she said. But she didn’t volunteer hers.
I glanced across the room at Bennett. He was the cafeteria monitor this meal. He was stationed by the door, poring over a calculus textbook. Glancing up ever few seconds with hawk-like eyes in hopes of catching someone misbehaving.
“Bennett doesn’t even go to school here,” I said in a low voice. “Why is he studying?”
“Bettering himself, I guess.” Kayle laughed, and glanced over at Bennett too. �
��Nobody really respects him. They think he’s a total nerd. But Callahan’s given him a lot of power—
because he’s, y’know, a genius—and it reflects well on the school to have him front and center.”
“So how do you even know Cole?” I asked.
She licked salt off her fingertips and said cheerfully, “I used to go to St. Mary’s. Just a couple of towns over from you. His reputation spanned the whole tri-county area.”
“Really? He did shit to people in different towns?”
Kayle laughed. “Actually, it was his reputation on the baseball field. My school was all about football—never cared much about baseball. But when we were playing Monroe? Everyone went to the games. Cole was a beast.”
I thought about it. A lot of kids from my school had gone to baseball games. Traveled to support our team, like groupies. I just hadn’t paid much attention to the fact that it was because of Cole.
“Too bad he won’t get to play here,” I mused.
“Of course he will,” Kayle said.
“Really?” I couldn’t believe this draconian institute allowed sports. Sports seemed way too…fun, for Strathmore.”
“Yeah! Sports are actually a big deal here. Baseball practice starts January 25th. You should see the kids we get from out of state who can’t believe the climate here allows for baseball in January.”
I tried to smile.
“Just get ready for that idiot to be an idol,” Kayle went on. “Strathmore wants glory. They want to produce sports prodigies and computer geniuses and movie stars. They definitely want Cole here. In fact.” She leaned closer to me. “I heard a rumor that they’re going to make him captain of the team.”
“But he’s…”
“A first-timer? Yeah. Story goes that the recruiters saw him play, realized he’s a prodigy, and now think he’s the only one who can lead the team. Sounds likely, right?”
I gaped.
Kayle snorted. “More likely his stepdad cut the school a big fat check.”
“But they can’t…”
“They can, sweet, innocent Amma. And they did.”
Why was it so unbelievable to me? I’d seen firsthand how unfair the whole system was. My parents had believed I was a criminal. The school had believed my parents. Didn’t it make sense that some rich boy could come in here and be made baseball captain just because of his stepdad’s money?
“His teammates are gonna hate him,” I said.
She shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. He can be charismatic—in a horrible, creepy way.”
I wasn’t so sure I agreed. But I was ready to change the subject. “I can’t believe I have detention already. I’ve never gotten a detention in my life.”
“Who do you have?” She reached out and snagged one of my fries.
“Rominsky.”
Kayle’s eyes widened. “You got Rominsky? Really? But you’re a first-timer!”
“What does that mean?”
Her frown deepened. “Nothing. Just…he’s an asshole. I mean, most of the teachers are. But you want Gaines or someone like that. Gaines is a drunk—he’ll pass out fifteen minutes into your detention and then you can leave. Rominsky is…” She shuddered. “He’s the athletic director, and oh my God, he can come up with so many chores related to the athletic complex.”
“Sounds boring.”
Kayle leaned closer. “Not just boring. I’ve heard, like, grueling. They don’t usually give him to first-timers. Especially not on day one. They must really have it in for you.”
“I am the Strathmore Challenge,” I said darkly.
She snorted and sat back. “That was so shitty, the way Callahan called you out like that. And giving you detention in the first place, for nothing... God, this place sucks.”
I shrugged. “Cole got Rominsky too. So at least I’ll have company.” I tried to sound nonchalant, even though on the inside I was dreading it.
“Cole got Rominsky?” Kayle slapped a hand on the table so hard I jumped. “No shit? His parents are gonna flip.”
“His parents sent him here,” I pointed out. “They don’t exactly get a say in how he’s punished.”
She shook her head. “No, you don’t get it. There are people like you and me, who are here because our parents, like, actually think we need to be reformed. And that the school should do whatever must be done to make that happen. Then there are people like Cole, who are here because their parents wanted to send them a message.”
“A message.”
“Cole and his stepdad probably had a fight—either about Cole breaking the birdhouses or whatever and making his Mommy and Daddy look bad—or about something unrelated. Cole crashed the family yacht or some shit. Things blew up, his parents wanted to assert their control, they knew the humiliation of having a son in reform school was mitigated by the fact that it’s Strathmore. And voila.”
The theory didn’t make total sense to me, but I played along. “Or maybe the Bakers have some dirt on the Hellers and are blackmailing Cole’s family for something.”
Kayle laughed. “Now you’re thinking like a rich asshole.”
I smiled shyly and dropped my gaze to my potatoes. “There does seem to be a feud there.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Cole and Bennett, at least. I think there’s some history.”
“Hmm. That’ll make it interesting to see whether Cole can buy him.”
“Huh?”
“Bennett’s easy to buy. The rich kids who go here, they pay Bennett off and he’ll look the other way when they do bad shit. I wouldn’t be surprised if Cole never gets a detention again. Unless what you said is true, and Bennett hates his guts.”
“It seems true,” I insisted.
“Don’t hold your breath.”
“But that’s awful.”
She shrugged. “It actually wasn’t always like that. Last year, Bennett was super strict. Never let anyone get away with anything. Even the rich kids. People hated him. Then, toward the end of the year, rumors started that people were paying him to turn a blind eye. So everyone hated him even more, for being a hypocrite and a lapdog to the rich.”
“Well, I hope he comes down on Cole like a ton of bricks.”
“Pfff. If Cole’s gonna be Strathmore’s baseball star? Everyone’s gonna look the other way when he pulls his bullshit.”
Great. A bully who could torment me with impunity.
“So, like…what should I do. About Cole?”
Kayle threw back her head and laughed. “Don’t ask me! Sounds like you’re screwed.”
Thanks.
I looked around the cafeteria, wondering where he was. And why some part of me felt almost disappointed when I didn’t see him.
“Look.” Kayle lowered her voice. “Just try to stay out of his way, okay? If you see him in the halls, or have a class with him, or whatever—don’t look at him. Don’t think about him. Don’t say his name three times and summon him. Just live your life. Yeah?”
I nodded, stabbing at my green beans.
“You met your roommate yet? Kayle changed the subject.
“Uh, no. When I went up there to put my stuff away, she wasn’t there. But there was, like, a pink camo backpack on the other bed. And a bunch of hair dryers and stuff.”
“She sounds fun.” Kayle rolled her eyes, popping the last fry into her mouth. She licked the salt off her fingers.
I shrugged. “I hope she’s cool.” In truth, I was nervous and excited about having a roommate. It sort of felt like Ainslie Martin—that was the name on the second nametag on my dorm door—should be a built-in friend. Maybe we’d lie on our cots each night, staring up at the ceiling and telling each other our deepest secrets. Decompress after classes, walk to the cafeteria together. Stand there trying not to look at each other, not to giggle, as our room was inspected. Pathetic, that I’d never had a real friend before. That I had to cling to this fantasy version of Ainslie Martin. I was almost eighteen, why did this all sound like something out of a thirteen
-year-old girl’s dream?
“What’s her name?” Kayle asked.
“Ainslie Martin.”
Kayle’s mouth fell open. “You’re not serious.”
“Why?” Part of me was a little annoyed that she seemed to know everything about everyone.
She shook her head.
“Kayle! What? Does she suck?” I frowned.
Kale opened her mouth to speak. Then her gaze flicked to something behind me, and she ducked her head, that high ponytail bobbing. “Don’t look!
Of course I turned. And saw Cole striding into the cafeteria.
Kaylee grabbed my wrist from across the table. “Amma! Ignore him, remember.” I whipped back around
But I couldn’t look away. And when he didn’t look at me, not even a glance, some part of me felt desolate. I wanted to make him notice me. I wanted that thrilling hit of loathing and fascination and fury. Then that moment of was gone, and I was back to being a mouse—trembling in the shadows, praying the cat would stalk on by.
He sauntered down the center aisle, no tray in his hand. He looked like food was the last thing on his mind. He was intent on something—or someone. His school-issue khakis, not designed to flatter, still somehow managed to hang just loosely enough off his lean hips, and cling to his narrow thighs as he walked. He passed a table where a thin, nerdy-looking boy was taking a bite of Salisbury steak. He cuffed the boy on the back of the head, too hard to be friendly, and the boy’s steak splatted on the floor. But Cole’s gaze never wavered from his ultimate target. As he approached my table, I turned to look behind me, to see who Cole Heller was so fixated on.
A moment later, there was a horrible clatter, and I couldn’t see anything. Something thick and cold and slimy covered my eyes. It dripped from my hair, ran down my cheeks. I thought for a second Cole had split my head open or something—even though I knew that was absurd. Kayle was saying something in a loud, frantic voice, but I didn’t hear her. Or, I didn’t want to hear her. I just wanted to disappear.
My tray was in my lap, overturned. Ketchup mixed with clots of gravy stained my clothes and burned my eyes.
