At lunch, I slide my tray past the gourmet racks as usual, only to hear one of the lunch ladies call me by name.
“Miss Cooper.” A tan woman with a broad smile motions to me.
I stick a finger in my chest, stunned.
“Yes, you.” She unleashes another toothy grin. “Would you like some sushi?”
“Uh…” I shuffle my feet nervously. “I, um, no. Just a sandwich.”
She grabs my tray and slaps an expensive sushi wrap on it. It looks delicious, but my heart seizes when I think about the meal points. There’s no way I can afford this. Even if it’s the best sushi in the world, all I’ll be tasting is the price tag.
“What if she doesn’t like sushi?” Another lunch lady scolds the first.
My eyebrows jump in confusion.
“What you want,” she takes my tray and slides it in the opposite direction, “is a pizza, yes?”
I stare at the beautifully crispy crust and the cheese melting on top of thinly-sliced pepperoni. All hand-crafted. All delicious.
“Uh, no. Just… just the tuna sandwich.”
“Why can’t she have both?”
“Why can’t she have everything?”
To my surprise, the women start stacking food on my tray like this is a bank heist and they’re trying to stuff all the money in my suitcase.
I lift a hand, stammer and dart around for help.
I’m definitely holding up the line, but no one says anything.
Not even a peep of a complaint.
In fact, when I try to make eye contact, the people behind me all look down.
What is going on?
“Is this whoa…” When they shove the tray into my arms, I nearly buckle from the weight of all the food. “If this is about me playing the guitar for you, this isn’t necessary.”
“Oh no. Your guitar playing wasn’t worth all this.”
The first lunch lady smacks the second and gives her a warning look.
I chuckle. “Right. Well, the thing is, I can’t pay for this.”
“It’s been paid for.”
“By who?”
She arches a brow as if I should already know.
My heart catches on a breath. “Dutch?”
She smiles. “Enjoy your lunch, Miss Cooper. And, from now on, you can take anything you like. No need to worry.”
I turn around, utterly perplexed. Why would Dutch take care of my meals? Is this just another ploy to get into my pants? But why go this far?
I near the tree where I usually sit with Serena and find all the neighboring tables crawling with students.The sun is unbearably hot and the cafeteria, on top of being a literal five star buffet, is fully air-conditioned. Why is everyone out here?
I feel their eyes on my back and dig my fingers into the orange tray.
Don’t freak out, Cadence. Just keep walking.
“I didn’t think you’d show,” Serena says, sliding across and making room for me around the bench.
She stakes her elbow on the table and rests her chin against her fist, looking like a model with her long black hair, striking eyes, and the leather jacket over her Redwood Prep blouse.
“What is that supposed to mean? Why wouldn’t I meet you for lunch like I always do?” I set my tray on top of the picnic table, slide one leg and then the other over and sit down next to her. “Am I supposed to be doing something else?”
“Here’s the thing,” Serena says, offering a smile tinged with sadness. “You’re Dutch’s girl now. Like officially.”
“Come on, Serena. This again?”
“He walked you to class. Do you know what that means? It means you’re no longer one of us. You’re,” she raises a hand to the heavens, “elevated.”
I squint my eyes and look around at the other kids. They’re all watching me, waiting for some kind of show.
I have no idea what they expect. Am I supposed to get up and sprout wings because Dutch insisted on walking me to class?
Redwood’s interpretation is totally off. They have no idea just how much of a terror Dutch has been.
Has been?
No, is.
Currently.
Present tense.
There’s no escaping from his clutches.
I think about what he said in the practice room. ‘Just once. And I’ll get you out of my system.’
I’m some kind of virus to him.
And he’s the guy I abhor.
Just because we end up sticking our tongues down each other’s throats every now and then doesn’t mean I’m his.
Dutch’s girl.
Ha.
Maybe Dutch believes I am. But it’s definitely not in the sweet, romantic, relationship-y way that Redwood Prep is thinking. It’s in a controlling, vindictive way. Somewhere in his depraved little mind, fighting for control of me gets him excited.
Am I supposed to be flattered by that? By his ruthless need to prove he owns me? It’s not like he actually cares either way. Dutch has made it clear. Once he takes my virginity, I’m nothing to him.
And maybe I should see if he means it. Maybe I should wager the rest of my days at Redwood Prep on Dutch keeping his promise to leave me alone after he takes—correction, I give him what he wants.
Something deep in my body resists. Letting him have what he wants is akin to physical torture. There are only a few things I can control here at Redwood Prep.
The fact that I fooled Dutch Cross by wearing a wig and makeup is one of them.
Getting under Dutch Cross’s skin is a close second.
Across the way, Paris and her posse stride into view. They take the table usually reserved for the Cross brothers. Paris spears me with her dark gaze, but she doesn’t come over.
I’m a little surprised by that.
Serena sees the line of my gaze and leans in. “She’s not going to bother you anymore.”
I arch an eyebrow at her.
“Anyone touches you, they’re touching Dutch. And no one at this school is stupid enough to do that.” She unwraps the plastic around her sandwich and takes a big chomp. “I’m glad something good happened to one of us on this awful day.”
Her words remind me of Miller’s ultimatum.
My discomfort with the stares is eclipsed by my guilt. It’s all my fault Serena is in this mess to begin with.
“Serena…” I’m at a loss for words.
How do I tell her that she’s collateral damage in a war that has nothing to do with her?
“Nearly three years.” She lifts her gaze to the sky and puffs out a sad breath. “I avoided those stupid rumors. Never once set foot in Harris’ office. And now it’s just…” She shakes her head. “Damnit.”
“Miller said something about your past. What did he mean by that?”
She shrugs. “There was something that happened before I came to Redwood Prep.”
Serena leaves it there. I see past her smile to the worry hidden deep within her eyes. For someone who wears all that dark makeup, leather, and sarcasm like a heavy armor, she appears so fragile today.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” I promise. “We’re not going to give Miller what he wants.”
Her eyes drop to her tray. “It’s okay. If anyone has to back out of the scholarship program—”
“It’s not going to be you,” I insist.
She watches me, hope flaring to life in her eyes. And then it outs like an errant flame. “You and Sol are under Dutch’s protection. You know what that means.” One of her shoulders lifts in a lifeless shrug. “No matter what, Dutch and his brothers are going to find a way out for you. It’s okay though. I’m used to duking it out on my own. My philosophy is to expect what’s coming is worse than I can imagine.”
“That’s a really sad philosophy,” I whisper.
Even with all the crap I’ve been through, I still have hope.
Hope that Vi will find her footing with her makeup channel and see all her goals achieved.
Hope that we can pay off mom’s debts and move to a better neighborhood.
Hope that having the Redwood Prep seal on my senior year will open doors that will take us to places Vi has only dreamed of.
I might not have any hope for myself, but for my sister… I have a world of them. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get us there.
But not at the expense of my friends.
“Miller didn’t call that meeting because he really has a problem with you or Sol,” I inform her. “He wanted to get back at me for what I did to Christa. Giving into his stupid demands is exactly what he wants, but we’re not going to do that. Even if it costs me everything, we’re going to stand our ground.”
“You heard what he said. We could all lose our music scholarships if we don’t comply.” She worries her bottom lip. “And I don’t know about you, but I can’t afford Redwood’s tuition on my own.”
“It’s not going to come to that,” I promise.
She doesn’t look convinced.
I swing around so I’m facing her fully. “From my first day at Redwood Prep, I knew that things worked differently here. These people,” I glance around, “care so much about appearances and net worth and fame that it blinds them to what really matters. They’re empty inside. They’d stab each other in the back in a heartbeat because that’s the only way they can make it to the top.”
Serena shakes her head. “Animals.”
“Exactly. They act like they’re better than the average person, but are they? To me, they’re just as ruthless. Just as dirty. Just as dangerous as the thugs in my neighborhood. It’s just a different kind of turf war here.”
“What are you saying?” Serena tilts her head.
“I’m saying we both deserve to be here. Unlike them, we didn’t get in on daddy’s credit card. We got in because of our talent and our hard work.”
Her lips curl up.
I pat her shoulder. “When I accepted the scholarship to Redwood Prep, I was determined to graduate, even if it meant graduating alone. But now, things have changed.” I hold her gaze. “I’m determined to graduate together.”
She snorts. “That’s so cheesy.”
But she looks touched.
“It’s okay to have a little hope, Serena. If you don’t, life is too painful.” I tilt my face to the sun. “We all have something worth fighting for.”
A thoughtful look crosses her face. I’ve seen that expression before. A quiet little worry that will snake into a conversation or a joke or just a moment of silence. It steals over her face, making her look older, wearier.
I’ve always hesitated to ask about it, and I don’t think today—with all that’s going on—is the best time.
She clears her throat. “Enough about that. We have a few days to come up with a plan and we still need to figure out where Sol’s head is at in all this.”
“Speaking of Sol, have you seen him?”
“No, he and Zane went tearing out of school during second period.”
I chew slowly. “It’s so weird to me. How did someone as sensitive as Sol ever get involved with a beast like Dutch?”
“Same way nice boys from bad neighborhoods get pulled into gangs, I guess.” She shrugs. “The promise of family, of belonging.” Serena sets her sandwich down and brushes the crumbs on her PE pants.
“Belonging,” I mull the word over. What does belonging to Dutch, like really belonging to him, feel like?
I can’t imagine his brand of loyalty. The ruthlessness. The cruelty.
And yet it invigorates me to think that someone like me could tame a monster like him.
Damn, I’m insane.
Serena looks out over the bench. “Everyone wants to belong somewhere, you know.”
“Everyone except you?” I tease.
“I’m fine being lonely.”
“Is anyone?” I challenge. “Don’t we all want to fit in somewhere?”
She shakes her head. “The thing with loneliness is that you don’t expect it to be as powerful as it is. Once it has you in its clutches, it holds on for good. With no intentions of letting go. And then it follows you around, digging its claws in deeper and deeper.” Her smile is flat. “I’m okay with that, but people like Sol weren’t built like me. Sol won’t ever turn his back on The Kings. And they won’t turn their backs on him either. That much, everyone knows.”
In the distance, I see Paris and her crew of pompoms get up from the table and head our way.
My shoulders tighten as I prepare for a fight.
“The Wicked Witch of the West is approaching,” Serena mumbles.
“I saw her.”
The cheerleader saunters to a stop in front of the picnic bench.
Serena holds up a hand. “Sweetie, you’re blocking my light.”
“I thought vampires didn’t like the sun,” Paris shoots back.
Serena fakes a sneeze and then glances up. “I think I’m allergic to fake spray tan. Cadence, I’ll see you later. This environment isn’t good for me.”
“Try not to set any more fires while you’re gone,” Paris calls.
Serena’s face goes dark. She reaches into her pocket and her eyes widen. “Where’s my lighter?”
“Did you lose it?”
“Yeah.” She frowns.
I get to my feet and fumble my way out of the picnic bench. Eyes on the ground, I search around for her lighter.
Paris steps in my way. “Cadence, I need to talk to you.”
At least she’s asking respectfully this time, instead of throwing soda on my freshly mopped floors and acting like I’m her personal slave.
“I don’t think we have anything more to discuss, Paris. Excuse me,” I snarl out.
“Wait.” She places a hand on my shoulder.
I glance over at her, irritated.
She licks her lips. “When did you and Dutch start dating? Was it from that night at the party?”
“That’s none of your business,” I snap.
Sure, Dutch and I aren’t really dating, but am I going to admit that and give vermin like Paris any hope?
No, I’m not.
Turning dramatically, I do my best model-walk into the cafeteria.
Serena gives me an approving nod and a thumbs-up.
I shove her playfully. “Need some help finding the lighter?”
Just then, the musical bells chime.
“I must have left it in my locker. I’ll check there before class.” Serena waves. “Later.”
I nod and separate from her.
In the hallway, I look for Dutch. I don’t even realize it’s him that I’m looking for at first. It’s like my eyes are scanning and my heart is yearning before I’ve given either permission to do so.
When I realize what I’m doing, I quickly squelch the feeling and try to walk faster.
That’s when I spot Miss Jamieson. She’s wearing a blue blouse and a sharp white pencil skirt that contrasts her dark skin. Her hair is long and curly, reaching down her back. She motions to me.
I hurry toward her, clutching my books to my chest. Since Miller’s backstabbing, my faith in authority has seriously been shaken but, somehow, I haven’t lost my faith in Miss Jamieson.
She’s Mulliez’s friend and the teacher he entrusted me to after he left. Plus, she helped me out the last time Dutch tried to get me expelled from Redwood.
Miss Jamieson leads me into the stairwell and I fight back the memories of Dutch that’s rising up. It’s infuriating the way he’s gotten under my skin. It’s like he’s in my head, invading every pore, clawing down my neck, suffocating me with his invisible presence.
“Cadence.” Miss Jamieson’s voice snaps me out of it.
I glance up.
“I just heard from admin. Principal Harris is following Mr. Miller around like a schoolgirl.” She rolls her eyes as if she’d want nothing more than to punch both men.
“I’m handling it,” I tell her confidently, even though I feel no such thing.
Her gaze whips up. “No, no you do not handle this. You let the adults cut in. Jarod Cross should be finished with his tour soon. I’ll have Mulliez contact him. Get him to sort this ridiculous situation out.”
Dutch’s warning—that I shouldn’t owe his father any favors—rings through my head. It’s enough to make me think that Jarod Cross shouldn’t be my ticket out of every situation.
“I really appreciate you looking out for me, Miss Jamieson.” I smile at her. “But I can’t afford to trust anyone else right now.”
“Cadence—”
“Don’t worry. I’m not leaving Redwood.”
The bell chimes again. The last warning to get to class.
“I have to go,” I say.
On the way down the hallway, I pull out my phone and text Jinx.
Do you still sell secrets?
Jinx: Do you have secrets left to trade, New Girl?
I suck in a sharp breath.
There’s no way I can get out of this without fighting fire with fire.
Me: I need all the dirt you have on the chairman of the board.
