For Ivy
Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.
Oscar Wilde
Halloween
“This is an emergency broadcast announcing the commencement of the annual Fright Night. When the siren sounds, let the games begin. Good luck to you all.”
As the unnecessarily dramatic, robotic voice faded from the speakers, smoke began swirling through the night air, and the sound of a siren blared all around me. Strobes lit up the area in sharp flashes, illuminating the surroundings for milliseconds at a time before plunging us back into darkness.
Beyond the rides and food stalls, in front of the haunted house, stood a group of masked, hooded figures, dressed in black. The masks glowed with neon LED lights, creating sinister slashes over their eyes and mouths. Most of the guys had green, yellow, or orange masks, but the three centre figures had red, purple, and blue masks.
I immediately knew who they were. The three kings of Alstone High.
Kian, Xavier, and Carter.
The guy in the blue mask seemed to stare right at me, and it felt like my heart stopped. Without a shadow of a doubt, I knew it was Carter. I edged closer to the chain-link fence, trying to stay out of his sight.
The sirens suddenly stopped.
His attention was locked on me.
He ran.
I did, too.
1
ONE WEEK EARLIER
I owned this school. I was untouchable.
Sauntering down the hallways of Alstone High with my group of friends, aware of the envious looks thrown our way, even the teachers fawning over us. Most of them, anyway. We were at the top, and Kian, Xavier, and I ruled them all.
And that was the way it was going to stay.
Until one girl ruined it.
“See me after class, Mr. Blackthorne.” My English Lit teacher thumped my desk as he slapped my essay down on it. D. Fuck. If I didn’t keep up my grades, my spot as football team captain was gone. Even worse, I’d have no hope of getting into Alstone College. A degree from there opened more doors than one from Oxford or Cambridge, and if I was going to follow in my dad’s footsteps, I needed to take my place there next year. I gritted my teeth. This was the only class I was struggling in, and it had to be with the one teacher I couldn’t control.
Tearing my gaze away from my paper, my attention shifted to the girl sitting at the desk under the window. Raine Laurent. Plain Raine. Mousey-brown hair scraped back in a tight ponytail, a school uniform that should really be burned, it was so ill-fitting…she had “future librarian” written all over her.
My eyes strayed from the small smile playing across her lips to the paper she was clutching in her hand, and resentment burned through me. How did she get an A, again, and I could only manage a D? Again?
As the bell rang for the end of the class and everyone piled out, I reclined back in my seat, casual and indifferent to everyone’s eyes, but inside I felt my future slipping from my grasp.
“Another D. I expect better from you, Mr. Blackthorne. Your entire future is in jeopardy if you don’t buck your ideas up.” Clenching my jaw, I remained silent, tuning out Prof. Patel’s rant as he laid into me. I focused again in time to hear him say, “I expect a B or above for your next assignment, or you can kiss goodbye to any hope of getting into Alstone College. You may have a provisional acceptance, but remember, confirmation is entirely dependent on your grades.”
When I still didn’t comment, he leaned across the desk towards me, holding his thumb and forefinger up in front of my face, his voice hard and uncompromising. “You’re this close to failing. This is your final warning. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.” I forced the words out.
“Good. You’re dismissed.” He retreated to his desk, and I got the fuck out of there.
The hallway was already empty, most people having left since it was the end of the school day. I headed for my locker to dump my books before I headed over to the field for football training.
Rounding the corner, I saw Raine, closing her locker. Fucking great. The only person around, and the last person I wanted to see. An image flashed in my mind: Raine, holding her A-graded paper, a smug smile on her face.
The simmering anger burned. I stalked up to her, smacking the books out of her hands so they fell to the floor with a crash, and then before I knew what I was doing, I had her pinned against the lockers with my hands planted either side of her head.
Her harsh intake of breath sounded loud in the corridor, her chest rising and falling against mine. Without any conscious thought, I lowered my hand and wrapped my fingers around her throat.
We both froze for a moment.
What the fuck was I doing?
Her pulse was racing under my grip. Instead of dropping my hand like I meant to, my thumb stroked down the side of her neck.
Her skin was so fucking soft.
I watched with fascination as her chest expanded with a breathy sigh that she desperately tried to stifle. Her hazel eyes widened, her pupils dilating, but she brought up her hands to push me away, swallowing hard under my grip. She placed her palms flat on my chest, barely even putting any effort into her movements. Even if she had, I easily held her in place with my body weight. She was fucking tiny—she didn’t stand a chance against me.
With an effort, I focused on the reason for my anger and reminded myself that this girl was the cause of misery in my life.
“What’s your fucking deal, Laurent? Sitting in class with that smug little smile on your face, thinking you’re so much better than the rest of us. Do I need to remind you of your place?”
Her heart-shaped mouth tightened into a thin line, and she stilled.
Tension grew heavy in the air as she held my gaze. Why wasn’t she backing down?
“Anything you want to say?”
A gleam of defiance entered her eyes, but she remained silent.
I released my grip, and she slumped backwards with a harsh exhale.
“Get out of my sight.” Stepping over her fallen books, I strode over to my locker and slammed my thumb on the fingerprint sensor. Behind me, I could hear Raine scrabbling around to pick up all her shit, and then she fled, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
D. Fuck.
“Let me help you with that.”
Standing next to one of the honey-coloured stone pillars outside the front entrance of Alstone High, I paused in the process of picking up my backpack. My stomach flipped at the low drawl, and not in a good way. I turned my head to see Carter Blackthorne, self-proclaimed king of the school, eyeing me with arrogant disdain. The football god with a muscled body that shouldn’t be allowed on an eighteen-year-old, expressive eyes that reminded me of autumn leaves, all browns and golds, depending on the light, and mussed, chocolatey hair falling across his forehead. He was undeniably hot, and he knew it.
Looks weren’t everything, though, especially as far as I was concerned. As well as his general arrogance, lately he seemed to get some kind of sick pleasure from tormenting me when no one else was around to witness it, and I had no idea why. I kept my head down and tried to stay out of his way, other than Mondays, when it was unavoidable.