“Don’t get any ideas, all the popular girls have tried to tempt him, but he isn’t interested. If you want an easy lay, your best bet is to just go for Kalen.” I whip my head round to face her.
“How many brothers are there?” I try not to sound too interested.
“Sawyer is the eldest, he started teaching here last year. Then there’s the twins, Slate and Onyx, but they’re real assholes. Slate thinks he is better than everyone else and Onyx just looks like he wants to murder anyone who looks his way, and well, you met Kalen.”
I nod. I thought these so-called step-brothers were supposed to be good boys. Somehow, I don’t think my mother knows her step-sons as well as she’s claiming. Why would they be at Knox otherwise? From what I’ve seen so far, they don’t scream ‘good boys’ to me.
“Are there other schools around here?” I ask, thinking that maybe they just came here because it’s convenient.
“Yes, a few. Though I have heard stories about the Knox boys and why they come here. You have to be invited here; you don’t get to apply. There is a board of old people who review each case. It’s all very hush hush, which is weird really. It’s a school for kids with a rap sheet. Rich or poor, money isn’t an issue here. Maybe the fourth years know more, but us first and second years only get second-hand gossip.”
A bell chimes once, and most of the students instantly go quiet and take their seats...obviously a few first years don’t get the memo, or maybe they just don’t care, because they continue chatting regardless.
My new step-daddy, aka Principal Knox, addresses the whole school. He goes over how important it is to re-read the student handbook and how, by now, everyone should be well acquainted with the rules. I guess school’s been in session for a couple of weeks already, but he obviously feels the need to reiterate the basics for someone’s benefit. Maybe all his little pupils here aren’t as reformed as my mother made out.
Apparently, we are all adults here and will be treated as such, as long as we follow the rules. I tune out about halfway through his talk when a younger guy enters the room. He takes a seat near the other teachers, and I elbow Elsie and nod in his direction. “Who’s that?” I whisper. Even though I am fairly sure that he is one of my step-brothers. Call it a familial connection, or sisterly intuition or something.
“That is Sawyer Knox...I told you he was hot.”
I nod, my eyes not leaving my oldest step-brother. These guys are the key to being sent back home, I know they are. I just have to make sure I play my cards right.
***
After we’re all dismissed, Elsie walks me to my first class of the day. A class called SELF with Ms Davis. Elsie explains it’s a class that deals with the struggles teens face today. It isn’t a long class, but it is a requirement. The whole school has the same class Friday and Monday mornings after Assembly, or whatever they call it over here.
Elsie says she will find me for lunch to show me how the system here works, before turning to leave for her own class. I wave her off and quickly slip into the toilets, not caring if it makes me late.
Someone enters the bathroom once my cubicle door is shut. I hear her talking for a moment, but when no one replies, I realise she is on the phone to someone. Odd, I thought phones were banned?
“I’m meeting Sawyer at the wine bar in town tonight for dinner. He isn’t interested – yet – but I’m working on it. He finally agreed to a date, but I may have to seduce him into a relationship. His family has money and I’m sick of driving around in that beat-up old BMW…I need a man so I can quit this stupid job with these miserable children.”
I choose that moment to flush and open the door. The poor girl only looks a few years older than I do. Her face goes red, and I smile coldly, washing my hands in the sink next to her. She politely smiles back. As I head for the door, I hear her start talking again.
“My last class is at seven, I do cheer with the girls. Sawyer will meet me there at eight.”
Well spank my ass and call me Charlie. She just gave me an idea for a birthday gift for myself. Operation 'seduce my step-brother', part one. I know I’m decent looking, not in a stuck-up kind of way, but I always seem to get attention from boys and men that is usually unwanted. Lucky for me, I have my fake ID that Smalls gave me last year. I do turn eighteen on Tuesday anyway, but God knows what the legal drinking age is over here. I would have checked, but after the court ruling I was whisked away and packed on a plane with no phone and no chance to say goodbye.
Opening the door to my SELF class, I step inside and the door crashes shut with a loud bang behind me. I can add that to my mental notes: the doors don’t shut slowly or quietly here. How embarrassing – I’ve drawn the attention of the entire class. As if being new and late wasn’t bad enough, I have to make one hell of an entrance.
“Take a seat. Being new is no excuse for tardiness.” I raise a brow and barely contain a smirk, does anyone say tardy anymore?
“Hot damn my future wife is tardy, even the word sounds naughty,” Kalen says loud enough for everyone to hear and titter. “I can spank you later.” He winks at me this time.
“Kalen, enough,” the teacher chastises.
“Sorry, Mum, but she is your future daughter-in-law.” The class laughs loudly at this and the teacher shakes her head, looking like she’s struggling to hold back a smile. I stand frozen. Kalen’s mum is the teacher?
I take a seat in the front row, the only row with any spare seats, and within five seconds Kalen drops down into the seat to the left of mine and throws an arm over my shoulder.
“I will only tell you this once,” I whisper, hoping his mum doesn’t hear as she paces the room talking about bullying. “Touch me again without my express permission, and I will hurt you.” He laughs but makes no attempt to remove his arm.
“Ugh, for fuck's sake, don’t touch me!” I snap, and push his arm off.
“Miss Rossi, pack up your things and go to the principal's office.” The teacher’s glare is sharp enough to cut through glass.
“You’re shitting me, right?” I cry throwing my hands in the air. I always was one for theatrics. I blame the Italian blood on my father’s side.
“I assure you, I’m not ‘shitting you’,” she says, mocking my Australian accent, which infuriates me.
She hands me a slip while I curse under my breath about how ridiculous this school is. I make a point of slamming the door extra hard on my way out. Susan directs me in her monotone voice through this maze of fucking hallways, straight to the office.
I walk in and spot a very attractive dark-haired guy seated on one of the white plastic chairs that line the wall. I presume they’re for students waiting to see the principal. He watches me with dark, hooded eyes as I storm over to the administration desk and slam the slip down. The woman barely looks up from the computer screen.
“Take a seat,” is all she says.
Huffing in frustration, I turn and take a seat furthest from the boy who looks like an angel but reeks of sin. I surreptitiously study him from beneath my long lashes, and I decide that my initial assessment of him was right. I can almost see the sin pouring from his eyes, like tears of a fallen angel. The distance between us doesn’t stop him from staring, his eyes as black as I imagine his soul is.