by Ivy Fox
“Do you know if anyone will return for dinner tonight?”
“No, Miss. Their presence is needed elsewhere, as you well know.”
I almost roll my eyes at him, adding the unnecessary little jab.
“I’m just asking because, if no one else is here, then I see no reason for you to go through all the trouble of setting the table just for me. I’d be more than happy just to eat in the kitchen.”
“The kitchen is Henrietta’s domain. You should ask her,” he remarks sharply.
“Duly noted. I will then.”
I guess I’m not the only one Lawrence has a distaste for. Imagining ways that the cook might have pissed off the Grayson’s butler is enough of a silly distraction to enable me to get some food into my system.
Once I’m finished, I go back up to my room, brush my teeth, and grab my backpack. I open the door, pray a Hail Mary to give me strength, and set out toward my first high school experience.
When I finally arrive, I immediately wish I’d never left the house. Hostile butler be damned.
There are kids everywhere, talking and rushing along with Starbucks’ iced-coffee cups in their hands, taking selfies, throwing footballs and, well, being normal teenagers on their first day of school. The scene makes me feel inadequate, as if a billboard sign is advertising what true normal looks like, and how I will never feel that carefree again.
I shouldn’t be here.
I have no business being here.
Not with everything that has happened in the last forty-eight hours, or the whole seventeen years of my life for that matter. Everyone is in high spirits, laughing, and playing around with each other when all I want to do is hide.
Yep. I’m not doing this.
“Not so fast, young lady.” I hear a warm, cheerful voice sing out, and I instantly feel a pair of hands turning me around just when I was so close to reaching the gate and running away from here.
“Chad?”
“The one and only.” He smiles wide, showcasing that warm, friendly smile that I encountered two nights ago at the worst party of my life. “A little birdie told me you might get cold feet coming to school on your own today and try to chicken out. So I’m here to get you through the door,” he teases lightly.
“And by little birdie, you mean Elle?” I grumble, slumping my shoulders in defeat.
“That would be the one. And sorry to say, Holland, but whatever my girl wants, she gets. So you’re stuck with me for the day,” he tells me, far from looking sorry.
I doubt Chad has ever done anything in his life that he regrets or feels apologetic for. He has such a free and lighthearted aura around him that I sincerely doubt anyone could ever say anything bad about him, much less require an apology.
“Great,” I mumble exasperated.
I should have known Elle would pull something like this. I know her concern comes from a good place, but it reminds me too much of Rome’s meddling for me to appreciate it.
“Hey now, don’t look so glum. Do you know how many kids here would give half of their trust fund just to have me as their shadow? You just hit the jackpot, babe. Now, how about we turn that frown into a smile? No? Nothing? Okay, playing hardball I see. But I’ll crack you before the day is through. Just watch,” he teases, putting his arm over my shoulder.
My body’s immediate reaction to his good-natured comradery is to freeze up, and I hate that it reacts this way to such an innocent touch. Worst part is, my cringing status doesn’t go unnoticed by Elle’s best friend either, as he awkwardly pulls his arm away.
“Sorry. Guess I’ve overstepped, huh?” he says sheepishly, embarrassment coating his sun-tanned cheeks.
“No, it’s fine. You’re fine.” I quickly apologize, hoping my panicked face doesn’t rat me out. Chad needs to be clueless to the turbulent thoughts running rampant inside my head, even though they feel like a blow horn, blasting out the name of the real reason behind my skittish behavior.
“Hey, I was just teasing, you know? First day of school can be rough. Don’t be mad at Elle for giving you some backup, okay?” he explains softly, his goading tone long gone, only to be replaced by the worry of his friend and her thoughtful intention.
Crap.
Chad is as inoffensive as they come. He’s sweet and kind, and a true friend to Elle. I shouldn’t make him feel like an unwanted stalker. Well, he is being that, but he’s only following Elle’s wishes—something that I think he would go to the ends of the earth to fulfill.
“Sorry. I guess I’m just a little tense.” I try to play it off, schooling my features and relaxing my stiff shoulders as much as I can muster so that he will blame my sudden, rigid iciness as nothing but nerves.
His demeanor softens at my semi-false confession, making me feel even crappier for my body’s immediate response.
“First day jitters. It’s normal, especially when you haven’t attended a high school before. Elle told me you’ve only been homeschooled, so I understand why coming here can send any sane person running for the hills. Pembroke can be intimidating as fuck, but I promise you’ll get through this, okay? You got friends here.” He beams sincerely, broadcasting his genuine nature yet again.
Friends.
Enemies I know, but friends are a whole new concept for me to accept. I guess it takes a bit of faith to believe in such a sentiment, and right now that well is good and dry. I shake the nagging feeling away, knowing Chad is not the source of my anguish. Quite the contrary. He might just be the one distraction that will ensure I look and feel somewhat normal amongst such a joyous crowd.
Isn’t that what Rome expects? Fake it till we make it? Guess this is my first curtain call because the show is about to begin. And if Chad is willing to play the part as my new sidekick, then so be it.
“So, Elle has dubbed you as my own personal bodyguard, huh?” I ask, trying to deflect his attention from my mishap to the girl who he is obviously infatuated by. As I suspected, his wide smile begins to gain momentum. I make a mental note that if I ever want to distract Chad, all I have to do is drop Elle’s name.
“Like I said, whatever the little firecracker wants. Consider me as your own private welcoming committee. I’m at your service, madam,” he says with an exaggerated bow.
If I had the will to laugh, I would. His little ruse to make me forget my apprehension is just too adorable.
“Okay, so what do your services entail, good sir?” I goad, doing my best to play along.
“Why only the best, sweet maiden.” He winks at me, back to his usual upbeat self. “First things first—do you have your schedule with you?”
I take my phone out of my bag, pull up the schedule, which was emailed by the school a few days ago, and hand it to Chad. He looks at the phone for a while and then returns it, all smiles.
“Okay, so most of your classes will be at Blythe House today, which is good, seeing as I have most of mine there, too. Except for the last two hours after lunch, but I’ll sort something out.”
“So I guess one of your duties is to chaperone me to my classes?”
“Lunch, too. By the end of the day, I promise you’ll feel right at home.”
Doubtful, I think to myself, but give him whatever constitutes as a smile from me these days, and take the first steps into my senior year at Pembroke High.
Just as Chad promised, he never left my side. He took me to every class, and when the bell rang, he was there by the door, ready to take me to the next one. Although I might have felt disconnected when I stepped inside Pembroke High, Chad made sure to take my mind off things and prove me wrong. In fact, his bubbly, enthusiastic approach started to rub off on me, and there were a few times I actually laughed. Well, maybe not laughed, but he definitely got a genuine smile out of me.
By lunchtime, though, that positive vibe changed when we both entered the cafeteria in the main building and were faced with a whole lot of whispering, and long, blatant stares in our direction.
“So this is what a goldfish feels like?”
“Huh?”
“Look alive, Holland, cause you got yourself an audience. Just remember I’d be more than happy to be your manager if you’re in the market for one. Ten percent is the going rate, right?” He nudges me, grabbing two water bottles and placing one on each of our trays.
“So I’m not being paranoid. People are looking at us?” I whisper to him, not wanting the guy behind him in line to overhear our conversation.
“Oh no, babe. They’re not looking. They are flat out gawking, and it’s not at me. Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it looks like the new girl has finally grabbed Pembroke High’s attention.”
“Great,” I mumble, placing a salad on my tray.
Chad hands over a twenty to the cashier, paying for both of our lunches and tilts his head for me to follow. I’ve never been so grateful for Elle’s insistence on Chad following me around like a playful puppy as I am at this very minute. It would suck having lunch on my own with all these eyes on me.
Chad ignores the stares and hushed gossip, waving and saying hi to a bunch of people as we maneuver our way to an empty table as if oblivious to it all. When we finally get to our table, I slouch into the corner seat, conveniently placed behind a large plant, hoping its green foliage is enough to hide me from everyone’s scrutinizing glares. I start shoving my salad into my mouth, on a mission to eat as fast as possible so I can leave.
“Hmm, something doesn’t feel right,” he mumbles, looking behind me.
I don’t dare turn around, but with the sudden increase in volume of laughs and chatter, I’ve officially lost my appetite.
“You’re getting more attention than Kim Kardashian’s champagne booty cover. You’re not even one bit curious as to why you’re Pembroke’s new hot sensation?” Chad asks, taking a small bite of his burger, not looking half as stressed as I am while finishing his meal.
“Honestly, not really,” I retort mid-bite, praying my stomach can handle a bit more.
“Well, you’re a better person than I am.” He winks, placing his burger back on his plate and getting up from his seat.
He doesn’t go far, just a few steps away to talk to a group of kids sitting at the table next to us. Whatever they say doesn’t take long either, and Chad is back in his seat, punching keys on his phone, his sunny disposition nowhere in sight.
“So aren’t you going to tell me?” I huff out impatiently, my fork clinking on my half-eaten salad bowl.
“Thought you said you weren’t curious?”
I cross my arms over my chest, raising my brow and pursing my lips, unamused.
“Curiosity killed the cat, Holland. You sure you wanna know?” he adds, leaning back in his seat, placing a hand over his phone, face down on the table. The worried look in his usually bright eyes is giving me palpitations.
“Just tell me already!” I blurt out, my panic starting to rise.
Did Judge Grayson wake up?
Did he tell everyone what happened?
Did he make something up to implicate me as his would-be murderer?
Oh, my God! That’s it! Everyone knows.
I break away from my dreadful state when I feel cool hands grabbing my trembling ones.
“Hey, hey, hey! Chill, Holland. It’s not that bad.” Chad tries to console me, and by the forlorn look in his green eyes, I realize how manic I must have seemed.
“It’s not?” I choke out.
“It isn’t flattering, but it’s hardly enough reason for you to go into panic mode.” He soothes me, giving my hands a tight squeeze and only letting go once he’s sure I’ve calmed down.
“Then what is it? Why is everyone staring?”
He runs his hand behind the back of his head, tossing through his dirty blond waves as he ponders if he should tell me or not. Guess my little outburst freaked him out.
“I’m fine, Chad. I swear. You can tell me,” I reassure him, feeling more like myself now that I know it had nothing to do with what happened to me.
“You sure?” he asks cautiously, looking into my eyes as if they will tell him I have it together.
Once his smile returns to his face, I deem my eyes like two big, fat liars, as well. I don’t have it together. Not by a long shot. But I guess I’m better at hiding my true feelings than I thought. The perks of being Vivienne’s daughter are finally paying off.
Chad passes me his phone, which surprises me since I expected him just to come out and tell me what’s going on. But when he turns it over and presses play on a video that was posted on some Pembroke social webpage, I begin to understand why I’m suddenly so popular, and why Chad would struggle to do justice to the footage with words. The video was published just an hour ago, but apparently, that’s all the time it needs for the gossip fire to pick up steam and burn its way throughout campus.
While Chad chews worriedly on his lower lip, I hold my feelings in check and silently watch the ten-minute montage of me at Trevor and Lace Manning’s house party. It shows me dancing with the boy currently sitting across from me, purposely excluding Elle from the scene. A simple dance with Chad would be innocent enough, if the next part of the video didn’t show me dancing with Trevor, with his mouth intimately close to my ear and his gorilla hands on my ass. Of course, you can’t see my disgusted face from this angle, but you can see how Ash pulls him off me, only to break his nose in the next minute.
Like a gift that keeps on giving, the video continues on, adding weight to my discomfort as it follows Ash and me leaving the lively living room onto the penthouse’s balcony outside, focusing on our entwined hands like a couple on the verge of a make-out session. The fuel to this rumor increases when the film shows Ash’s return, discreetly adjusting his obviously hard cock in his jeans, added by my own frazzled look as I appear onscreen again.
But of course, a show always needs a grand finale, doesn’t it? Whoever did this montage thought, the best way to end it was to show Rome’s ex-girlfriend, Addison, tear me a new one and reveal, not only my parentage but also show that I’m unwanted at Pembroke High. The film does a perfect job at deeming me an outcast and letting the whole student body know that, compared to them, I’m nothing but trash. Fumingly, I place the phone face down on the table and push it toward Chad.
“You sure you’re my welcoming committee? Because I feel like this video was my real introduction to this place,” I sneer angrily.
“Shit, you’re pissed. Thank God! I thought you might cry or something,” Chad counters, surprised, and apparently relieved that he doesn’t have a whimpering mess of a girl to console.
“Or something,” I mutter, feeling my rage spiking in my veins.
I swear to God this city just keeps giving me crap to deal with. And compared to the shit I’m currently going through, these Pembroke bullies are like the icing on my fucked-up cake.
“So, I guess that explains why Trevor Manning is wearing shades indoors. I thought he was upping his entitled-jackass vibe,” Chad mocks, tilting his head to the side, showing me where Trevor is sitting. This time, unafraid, I turn around to take stock of the gossiping crowd behind me.
“I think jackass describes him perfectly,” I quip back as I watch the guys and girls sitting with Trevor all pointing to their phones and laughing away at his expense.
Trevor has his head bowed, looking pissed off, maybe even more than I am. And when I hear the not-so-subtle remarks of how Ash beat him up, I understand why. His own friends are making a mockery out of him, so I guess I’m not the only one who looks bad in the video. But above all the ridicule, I hear his sister Lace try her best to deflect the attention off her brother and onto the person who got the most air time. She’s the one whose voice carries to my ears as her country twang sings out how pathetic and needy I look.
“Don’t pay Lace any mind. The girl is an attention whore.”
“Who’s a whore?” a low voice asks above me, just before the seat next to m
e becomes occupied by another familiar face from Saturday night’s party. Santiago—or Saint as Chad called him—grabs Chad’s barely eaten hamburger and begins to chow down as if it’s second nature to him.
“How come I’m not surprised that that word grabbed your attention?” Chad goads with a knowing smirk.
“It’s not the only one, but it catches my notice. If some stupid-ass hoe is giving it up, might as well see if she’s worth the effort,” he quips back in amusement, giving his friend a wink.
“I was talking about Lace Manning.”
“I’d rather have my balls be force-fed to me,” he answers, seemingly disgusted.
“Nice visual,” I murmur beside him, finally gaining his attention.
“Who’s the chick?” he asks Chad, not even making an effort to look at me or greet me himself.
“She’s Elle’s new stepsister, remember? You met her at the party last Saturday,” Chad states, rolling his eyes at his friend.
“Not really. But I remember the little princess annoyingly go on about some Paris or London girl. Are you her?” he asks, still too into Chad’s burger to direct his question to my face.
“It’s Holland, actually,” I snap, unimpressed with his social decorum.
Upon meeting Saint last Saturday, he was rude, obnoxious, and full-of-himself. But the thing that stuck with me most was him being a complete dick to Elle. All traits that will prevent us from ever being friends. So having to spend my lunch hour knowing everyone is making fun of me behind my back, and dealing with Saint’s personality, is just a bit much.
“Baby, I couldn’t give a shit,” he replies, taking another big bite.
I’m about to open my mouth to put this asshole in his place since I’ve reached my limit of patience for the day when I’m interrupted by a loud laugh coming from Chad.
“And this, you dick, is why you scare all the girls away. Your lovely personality is not your best feature.”
“But my scary, ten-inch dick is, so you won’t hear me complaining.” Saint throws his shark-like grin at his friend and Chad’s smirk brightens along with his light, emerald eyes. But that all changes when Saint asks his next question, causing Chad’s wide smile to fade and his light, breezy features to turn somber.
