Rich Kid Prep: Book 1

by Victoria Grace

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About This Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Author's Note

  More by Victoria

  About the author

  Rich Kid Prep: Episode One

  Victoria Grace

  Copyright © 2021 Victoria Grace

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, places, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Edited by Heather

  Cover designed by Victoria Grace

  ABOUT THIS BOOK:

  Nobody said being an heiress was easy.

  My life is turned upside down when I find out that my biological father is one of the richest men in the world. Thrust into a life vastly different than what I’m used to, I realize that money and fame change everything. I’m in the middle of a game that I don’t know how to play, and nobody is willing to explain the rules.

  How am I supposed to figure out who my true friends are at boarding school? Dastian is hot and cold. One minute, he’s trying to protect me, and the next he wants nothing to do with me. Logan is stunning. But, apparently, I’m not the only girl to fall for his charms.

  Then there is my half brother that I knew nothing about. Is it a coincidence that he died a few days before my birth mom? Or is there something going on? All I know is, I need to figure it out quick if I don’t want to be next.

  Rich Kid Prep is a boarding school romance series. This is book one and it does have a cliffhanger ending. You’ve been warned.

  Chapter One

  Welcome to prep school, Cinderella.

  Everybody is calling me ‘Cinderella.’ A true rags to riches story. They talk about how lucky I am, all while painting Henry Lockwood in a positive light.

  If they only knew the truth.

  Two weeks ago, my mother passed away very suddenly. A few days after she died, Henry Lockwood showed up, claiming to be my biological father. I thought it was impossible—my mother told me my father passed away before I was born. One paternity test later, I found out the truth.

  Henry Lockwood is my father. And my mother lied to me my entire life.

  Did I mention he’s a billionaire? Because he is. I went from a poor kid to an heiress overnight. My whole world was turned upside down in an instant.

  Now, Henry is sending me away to some fancy boarding school in Connecticut, where I will be in class with kids who have lived a lifestyle vastly different than my own. I think he’s doing it just so he doesn’t have to deal with me, but I push the thought from my mind as the limo pulls up in front of the massive school.

  This is where I will be spending the next several months of my life. I’m a senior this year. And instead of graduating with the kids I’ve gone to school with all my life, I’ll be graduating with strangers.

  Here is to hoping I at least make one friend.

  Lockwood Academy—yes, it’s named after my father’s family—looks more like a college campus than it does a high school. Spread across rolling hills, the old brick buildings look well preserved. This place screams money. And me? Well, certainly everybody has seen the articles about me on social media, right? I will stand out here.

  My jaw drops open as the limo drives past a golf course. Yep. You heard that right. A golf course.

  What kind of high school is this?

  I’m about to jump out of this limo and book myself a one way ticket back to New York. But I realize that I have nowhere to go. My mom is dead and Henry, who I refuse to call my dad, sent me here. I have no choice but to try.

  The limo comes to a stop and I look up at the brick building that matches all the other ones on this campus. The sign outside says ‘Graham Dorms,’ and below lists the name of the person who donated funds to the school.

  The door opens and I jump, placing a hand to my racing heart. I expect to see the limo driver standing there, but instead it’s a young guy. He’s got on a navy blue blazer, a navy and red pin striped tie, and a white button up shirt. The blazer has a school logo embroidered in, and he’s got a small, gold pin attached to his tie.

  “Name,” the guy says, not even bothering to look at me.

  His blond hair swoops to one side, but the wind blows one piece over. I watch it flapping in the wind as I lick my lips. “Uh, Hensley.”

  His brown eyes meet mine and he narrows them. “Last name.”

  I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, trying not to feel like a complete idiot for not giving him my full name. “Oh, um…” I forgot my new last name. That’s awkward. It takes a moment longer than it should to respond. “Lockwood!” I say it with too much enthusiasm.

  He raises an eyebrow over his dark framed glasses. “Hensley Lockwood?”

  I nod.

  When he learns my name, he studies me for a moment, tilting his head to the side as if he’s sizing me up. I jut my chin up, letting him know right off the bat that I’m not scared of him.

  He hands me a slip of paper. “Give this to Mrs. Lawrence inside. She’ll give you keys to your dorm.”

  “Thanks.” I grab the paper.

  He turns to walk off.

  “Wait.”

  He pauses.

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  “Colby Hartley,” he answers. “Welcome to prep school, Cinderella.”

  With that, he keeps walking away.

  I let out my breath in a huff.

  Stupid nickname.

  I have a feeling a lot of people in this school are going to refer to me as Cinderella because of those stupid articles.

  Forcing myself to move, I slide out from the backseat. Once I’m on my feet, I head straight inside. My stomach is in knots knowing that all my concerns were legitimate. If Colby knew who I was, that means everybody else probably does too, right?

  Maybe I could just keep my last name to myself. Nobody needs to know it. Or maybe I could go by my mom’s name—the name I’ve been going by for seventeen years now.

  I’m Hensley Smith. There is absolutely nothing special about me. Maybe everybody will just think I’m here on a scholarship.

  I walk up to an older woman who is sitting at a table by the front door. Another girl is walking away from her, so I assume that this is Mrs. Lawrence.

  “Can I help you, dear?” The woman asks, a grin on her face.

  I like Mrs. Lawrence already, just because her smile seems genuine. “Yes, please. I’m new and kind of have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “Certainly.” She pushes her round glasses further up her face. “What is your name?”

  “Hensley,” I answer, taking a deep breath. “Hensley Lockwood.”

  Her eyes lock onto mine for a long moment and she doesn’t say a word. She just stares. I’m starting to feel really awkward, so I look down at my shoes.

  “Welcome to Lockwood Academy, Miss Lockwood.” She passes a manila envelope toward me. “My name is Mrs. Lawrence. I teach advanced English for the junior and senior classes, so I’ll look forward to seeing you.”

  I nod once, taking the envelope. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Everything you need is in there. Keys to your dorm, a map of the school, schedule, and there is a calendar with all the games, special events, and days off.” She smiles again, seeming to get over the shock of hearing my name.

  “I appreciate it.” I smile at her before I turn and walk off.

  That wasn’t so bad.

  I g
rab my key from inside and notice that my dorm is on the first floor. I head that way, wanting to see where I will be spending my senior year of school.

  I only spent one night at the Lockwood mansion before I headed to school. Henry has a huge house, right on the beach. He called it his summer home. I can’t even imagine being rich enough to afford multiple homes. But then I think about the black Amex card in my wallet. Henry told me to buy whatever I wanted, that there isn’t a limit.

  Who does that? Who just gives a seventeen-year-old a credit card with no limit on it? Especially considering he doesn’t even know me.

  I haven’t bought anything yet. I couldn’t bring myself to. It just feels wrong to take anything from him.

  My mom worked two jobs. She’d work during the day as an assistant and at night she’d work at a restaurant. The tips she got there was the reason she could even afford to pay rent. It makes me wonder why she didn’t ever ask Henry for money. He would’ve made things easier on her. But she never took a dime.

  When I get to my room, I take a deep breath before pushing the door open.

  What I’m expecting is a small dorm room, kind of like one you’d see on a college campus. I expect there to be two twin beds inside. I’ve been worried that I wouldn’t have a nice roommate. But what I find is something vastly different.

  The room is bigger than the one I grew up in. And there aren’t two beds, but one.

  A king sized bed fills the space. The dresser, nightstands, and desk are all matching. It’s already decorated inside, with a light pink, fuzzy rug covering the floor. The bed is covered with a light gray comforter that looks softer than anything I’ve ever seen before.

  Inside the closet, my clothes are already hanging up. I have quite a few school uniforms and other clothes that Henry’s wife bought for me.

  One thing I can’t figure out is his wife. She seems genuinely nice, but shouldn’t she hate me? They were married when my mother conceived me. I know this because she told me they’ve been married for twenty years. It’s really confusing, but I’m glad she is being nice. I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  I also have my own bathroom. It’s nothing spectacular—a small shower, a sink, and a toilet. But I expected to have to share, so I’ll take it.

  Maybe prep school won’t be so bad. I might not fit in with the other kids. I already know I don’t belong here. But maybe this room can be my escape. It won’t be so bad. Besides, it’s just a few months anyway. I only have to survive until June, when we graduate.

  I can do this.

  After a quick look in the envelope, I notice that there is orientation at two, which is only thirty minutes away. I quickly grab my map and head that way.

  Maybe I will even make a friend.

  It was magic.

  The campus is bigger than I thought. After getting lost twice, I make it five minutes before orientation is scheduled to start. The place is pretty packed—mostly with freshmen—so I feel out of place. It is more evident now than ever that most people who start at Lockwood Academy do so as a freshman. Starting as a senior is going to make me stand out.

  I sit down in the first empty seat that I see. It’s about midway up the bleachers, close to the door. The kids all stare at me, but I’m not bothered by them. I most likely won’t see them after today, since they’re so much younger than me. I don’t have to try to make a good impression.

  I pull my phone from my pocket, messing with it to pass the time. I don’t have any texts, not that I expected to have any. At my old school, I had friends. Plenty of them. But none of them bothered texting me after my mom passed away. It’s like I wasn’t worth the effort.

  Sighing, I slide it back into my pocket. The door to the auditorium opens up as another person walks in right at the last second. I look up and am surprised to see a boy about my age coming in. A few people snicker, which has me curious. We make eye contact and he grins, heading right toward me.

  Of course.

  “Mind if I sit here?” the guy points beside me.

  I scoot over to make room for him. “Have at it.”

  He doesn’t waste any time filling the empty space beside me.

  The boy has reddish brown hair that is somewhere between styled and messy. Freckles dot along his nose and cheeks and his eyes are hazel. He’s wearing a black shirt and a brown leather jacket. It’s much too warm for the jacket, so I feel like he’s only wearing it to make a statement, though I can’t figure out what that statement is.

  “What’s your name?” I ask him, hoping to put a name to the face.

  “Peter Ward,” he answers, turning to me.

  “I’m Hensley,” I say, purposefully leaving out my last name.

  He smirks. “Oh, I know who you are, Cinderella.”

  I roll my eyes at the ridiculous nickname. “I prefer Hensley.”

  “Nobody here is going to call you that,” he informs me.

  I furrow my brows. “Wait, how do you know if you’re new too?”

  He chuckles. “I’m not exactly new. Last year I got expelled for the last month of school.”

  My jaw drops open at his confession.

  “Just an incident with some fireworks in the dining hall—complete misunderstanding.” He waves a hand. “But that’s not important.”

  “Wait, how are you here now if you got expelled?” I ask.

  He gives me a pointed look. “My father made a sizable donation to the school. Money talks. I’m on probation until Christmas and they’ll be searching my dorm every week to see if I have any contrabands.”

  That’s actually kind of funny. “I wish I could’ve been there for the fireworks.”

  “It was magic.” He gets a faraway look in his eyes, almost like he’s reliving the experience. “But it’s senior year. I can’t do anything like that again or else I won’t get into Harvard. My dad paid a lot of money to make sure that it wouldn’t show up on my record.”

  Lockwood Academy really is a different kind of school. These kids can get away with anything.

  “My mom would kill me if I got expelled.” I chew on the corner of my lip, thinking about her. There is a stabbing pain in my chest that is there every time I think about her, which is often.

  He frowns. “Your mom died, right?”

  I nod.

  He opens his mouth to say something else, but somebody walks up to the podium, saving me from having to answer any more questions about her.

  The orientation is boring. It doesn’t last for too long, mostly it’s just the dean going over the rules and everything in our welcome packets. He does make a five minutes speech about how fireworks are not allowed on campus. I have to hold in my laughter as the dean looks right at Peter through the whole speech.

  As soon as orientation is over, Peter stands from his seat. “Want to meet some people, Cinderella?”

  I glare at him. “Are you going to introduce me as Cinderella?”

  He grins mischievously. “It doesn’t matter if I introduce you as Hensley Lockwood or Cinderella, they’re all going to call you Cinderella. You should just accept your fate.”

  I’d rather not be called Cinderella, but maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s just what everybody here is going to call me and I’ll have to live with it.

  “Fine.” I stand up. “Let’s go meet all your friends.”

  He grins, walking toward the exit.

  All the freshmen are standing around, talking to one another. They seem so nervous, and I almost wish I were a freshman. I’m starting a new school during my senior year. It’s a small school at that. I know that there are less than four hundred students total attending this year. So everybody in my grade will have already made friends. I’ll be the odd one out.

  I follow Peter, hoping that I’ll be able to make at least some friends. Peter doesn’t seem too bad. I imagine he’s the class clown, which is what got him into trouble. I have a feeling being friends with him would be an adventure.

  We walk side by side down the sidewa
lk, away from the dorms.

  I look over my shoulder, hoping I don’t get lost. This campus is so big, I wonder if I’ll be able to find my way back.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “The football practice field,” he answers.

  I raise an eyebrow. “Practice field?”

  “Uh, yeah. It’s just a field with a few bleachers where the team practices. They have a few mock football games there, but they have the actual games off campus,” he explains. “The campus is secure, you know. We can’t just have people coming here to watch football games all the time. This way, parents can come watch their kids, if they want.”

  Ah, I guess that makes sense.

  Lockwood Academy has a lot of kids from rich families. I suppose it makes sense to make sure the campus is secure.

  “Are you on the football team?” I ask.

  He snorts. “Do I look like I’m on the football team?”

  Peter is kind of small. I’m five three and he’s only a few inches taller than me. But at my old school, one of the best football players on the team was about Peter’s size.

  I shrug. “What is a football player supposed to look like?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m definitely not a football player.”

  “Do you play anything?” I ask.

  “The drums.” He grins at me. “But only because my dad hates it.”

  I somehow doubt that. His eyes are completely lit up, like playing the drums is something he really enjoys.

  “That’s really cool.” I push a piece of hair behind my ear. “I don’t play any musical instrument, but I always thought it would be fun to learn.”

  My mom couldn’t afford to pay for lessons, even if I did want to learn something. I know she’d try if I asked, so I never asked. I just focused on my school work, never joining any clubs. But maybe things can be different now. Henry Lockwood is not lacking in funds, so if I wanted to join a club, it’s something he could afford for me to do.