“You planning on snorting up under the bleachers at lunch?” the boy whispers. “Like mother like daughter?”
I’ve become an insta-pariah.
I try to ignore him, but he kicks the side of my chair. I twist toward him, poised to say something—anything—but the words lodge in my throat. He’s almost as hateful as Caleb was.
I recognize him. Ian Fletcher. One of Caleb’s old buddies from elementary school.
I wonder if they’re still friends.
“Take a picture,” he suggests. “It’ll last longer than your memory.”
Slowly, I turn back around. I focus on the teacher, who starts talking about the Civil War. I open my textbook and try to find where we are, keeping my head down.
Blend in. That’s all I need to do.
And that’s how I manage to stay alive until lunchtime.
I grab the packed lunch Robert had shoved in my hands before we’d left the house, dumping my books in my locker—which, again, took me too long to find. I thought I might be okay since I had been to the elementary school, but this building is a whole different beast.
I roll my shoulders, happy to have the weight off my back, and walk toward the cafeteria. Ahead of me, Caleb and his friends are making their way in the same direction. I automatically slow down, keeping my gaze on them. I hug the lockers and hope they don’t see me.
It’s ridiculous. I’ve seen some tough shit in public school, and with foster siblings, but nothing compares to the sheer arrogance that leaks out of these boys.
Someone loops their arm through mine, pulling me down a side hall. It happens almost too fast for me to protest.
“Wait—”
“Hush,” the girl says. She weaves us in and out of stragglers. “Never go into the cafeteria with a bagged lunch. Are you insane?”
“Well—”
“Rhetorical question.”
We stop in front of the library doors. They’re locked, but she whips out a key and opens it, ushering me inside, then secures it behind us.
It’s silent in here. I’m a little homesick at the sight of all the books. One of my foster families had books upon books, and the mom knew just how to stoke a sense of escapism through the stories. They were just a fleeting stop, but she had given me a book before I’d left. I read it a few times, then handed it off to Claire.
She needed it more than I did at that point.
“You’re new,” the girl says, stopping in front of me. “There are whispers about you.”
I stick out my hand. “Margo Wolfe. Entirely undeserving of at least a quarter of the rumors.”
She grins and puts her hand in mine. “Riley Appleton. Friends call me Riley.”
“Nice to meet you, Riley.”
“Aha! We’re friends already, I see. Come, come.” She leads me farther into the library, waving at the librarian tucked away in her office. There are cushioned chairs in the back, and she throws herself down into one. “So, you caught Caleb Asher’s attention already?”
I frown. “How’d you hear about that?”
She taps her temple. “I told you. Whispers.”
“I knew half of the kids here. I went to school with them until I was ten.” I shift, opening the bag and pulling out my sandwich. “Ian Fletcher seems particularly angry about my return.”
She snorts. “Yeah, he’s a bag full of piss on a good day.”
“What’s your story?”
“Me?”
“You’re intriguing already. A bagged lunch—an apparent no-no—and a key to the library? I don’t remember you from when we were kids.”
She stifles a smile. “You wouldn’t. I’m a junior. And anyway, I transferred in when my family moved here a few years ago.”
“Can you explain Caleb?”
Riley shakes her head, opening her own lunch. “He’s the captain of the lacrosse team. Everyone wants him—the girls around here would cough up a lung to get a chance to talk to him. You might remember his dad had his own company?”
“Yeah.” I never knew the specifics. And at ten years old, I didn’t really care.
“Well that company grew super-fast, and his dad sold it. Apparently, the family still gets royalties. Because of that, they’re extra rich. Caleb can do anything, and the school would bend over backward to kiss his ass.”
“Fun.”
“He and his friends are untouchable. Royalty,” she whispers. “His friends are Liam, Theo, and Eli. They love to terrorize… but everyone falls at their feet. Even the teachers.”
“They love to terrorize who?”
“Me,” she half laughs. “Only Eli, though. The rest tend to leave me alone. The golden boys have a dark side.”
I grunt. “And now Caleb has his eye on me.” I take out my phone, showing Riley the texts. “Do you know who this might be?”
She grabs my phone, her eyes going wide. “No, but that… that’s sketchy. Did you tell anyone?”
“Nope.” I look around and put down my sandwich. My appetite has fled. “If I make waves, my new family might decide I’m too much trouble. You know?”
“They can’t send you away,” she argues. “You just got here!”
“I know, but that’s the system. I have eleven months left until I’m eighteen, then I get to go.” Go where is the question, but Riley doesn’t voice it. I don’t, either.
The bell rings, and both of us flinch.
“Show me your schedule,” she says, putting her things back in the bag. “I’ll get you to class so you aren’t late.”
“Thanks.”
We go out into the hallway, and I run smack into a hard, muscled back.
Caleb Asher turns around, and my heart jumps into my throat.
His eyes go to Riley, then back to me. “Run along, Appleton.”
She swallows, staring at me. She pushes her shoulders back. “I need to show—”
“I’d be happy to help our friend get to class.” He scowls at her. “Go away.”
She stiffens and slowly backs away, casting an apologetic look in my direction. I shrug at her. It isn’t her fault he’s an ass.
An ass that steps into my personal space, herding me away from his friends. “Wolfe.”
“Asher.”
“How’s class?”
Everyone is pretending I don’t exist or coughing mean names behind their fists.
“Missed you at lunch,” he says.
I snort. “Yeah, okay.”
He puts his hand on the back of my neck, his fingers soft for a second before they dig into my skin. I suppress a shiver. He uses pressure to steer me down the hall, into the throng of students headed for their classes.
In the middle of everyone, he gives me a light shove.
It’s enough to send me to my knees. Everyone fall silent at the movement.
Mortification rings through me.
“This isn’t your school,” Caleb says, leaning down.
I’m pretty sure he’s amplifying his words on purpose, because now everyone is turned in our direction. His friends join us, circling around.
“Why don’t you go back to the trash family that raised you? Leave the rest of us alone. Oh, I forgot. Your mom’s probably high out of her mind in a gutter, and dear old dad is getting ass-raped on the regular in prison.”