Page 18 of The Golden Boys
It’s more than clear that my assessment of these three ruling this school is one-hundred percent accurate.
A few twists and turns and we’re here. I’d given West my locker number, so he knew exactly where to go. According to my schedule, and the little map printed at the top, it isn’t far from my first hour, which is nice.
“We get five minutes between classes, so it’s probably not a bad idea to fit as much as you can in your bag,” Sterling offers. “Teachers here probably aren’t as lenient as where you’re from. One tardy and you can expect a detention.”
On the surface, what he says seems kind enough, but it’s the‘where I’m from’part that’s rubbed me the wrong way.
What the hell does he know about what standards were upheld at my old school? I’m guessing they think anyone from the other side of the tracks must be some kind of thug or criminal. Typical. It would probably blow his mind to know thatseveralkids in my class have full scholarships to some very desirable universities.
In short, I feel judged.
I force a smile, but don’t say anything.
“We should head toward the cafeteria,” West suggests, leading us down a hallway lined with windows on either side.
We hang a sharp left and I see the lunchroom at the end of the hall. Through the double-doors, we’re able to peek inside. It’s pretty standard from what I can see.
“When weather permits, most of us eat in the courtyard,” West shares.
I’m not sure if that’s an invitation to join them, but when he doesn’t spell it out, I’m even more confused. We move on again and I’m not given a clue where we’re headed next, but my companions have suddenly gone quiet on me, which is unnerving to say the least.
We turn down yet another passage, but this one is a dead end, only a few dormant classrooms on either side. Confused, I peer down at my schedule to see if any of the room numbers match, but nope. No idea why we had come this way.
“So, what are the teachers like here?” I ask. Someone had to saysomething.
Dane glances toward me briefly, but his eyes dart ahead quickly after. “Like everywhere else, I guess. Pains in the ass.”
A nervous laugh slips out, but the others are all quiet. This sudden change in mood can’t be my imagination, and I’m sure of it when we come to a stop in the middle of this dead zone. West faces me and I’m overwhelmed by the sheer size of him when he steps closer, peering down on me with a look that’s grown increasingly dark. Whatever hope I held on to that this moment would rebound has mostly faded now. I realize I hadn’t imagined being given the cold shoulder, but it’s possible I imagined the kindness these three had shown only a moment ago.
Something’s very, very off about this whole thing. This point is only driven home when harshly spoken words fly from West’s mouth the next second.
“I’m just gonna come right out and ask.” A soft, yet wicked, laugh slips from between his lips. And when his shoulders square, I feel every bit as intimidated as he wants me to feel. “How exactly can you afford all this? Your parents must’ve sold a shit-ton of meth, because Cypress Prep ain’t cheap.”
Shots fired.
I feel his words hit me right in the chest and there’s no question about it. I misread this entire interaction. Completely. And, of course, it stung so much more coming from him, because I’m the idiot who thought we had chemistry.
“Who the hell are you talking to? I don’t have to listen to this.” The words leave my mouth shakily. Then, the first step I try to take away from them is halted when West takes my arm. His grip is firm, but not painful. Still, I’m keenly aware of his strength.
Dane and Sterling flank him while staring me down, but neither speaks. My gaze flickers from them to West when I’m backed against the brick wall, and then boxed in by his large arms at either side of my head. He’s formidable in stature, but also in presence, which I can’t forget as he lingers deep in my personal space.
They have me thoroughly cornered, and I hate it.
“Come on now, Southside,” he calls me coarsely, as if it’s my name. “Can’t blame me for being curious how someone from the ass crack of Cypress Pointe can afford this school. So, if your parents didn’t rob a bank, then you must’ve come up with the cash yourself.” He steps closer and every breath I take presses my chest to his. “Who’d you suck off to get that kind of money?”
I’m wounded emotionally by the cruel words, and because it’s still so surreal that he’s turned on me, I’m not sure how to process it. I didn’t expect this. Not at all.
Rage in its purest form seeps into my veins, but I quench it when I remember being narrowly allowed through the wrought iron gates out front. Being on probation means I can’t stray outside the lines, means I can’t give this bastard what he deserves. I’m trapped literally and figuratively, and it sucks.
“All you need to know is I’m not here onyourdime, dipshit.”
“Sure about that?” He’s so close the heat of his breath moves over my lips.
My heart races. Only, this time, it’s not because of the misguided infatuation that got me into this mess—those feelings are so long gone I swear I never had them at all. Now, it’s throbbing inside my chest because my blood’s suddenly boiling out of control.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means there are a lot of blind spots just like this in a school this big,” he warns. “Lots of places for someone who doesn’t belong here to get into trouble.”