Hannaford Prep: The Complete Series Read online

  A tingle runs down my spine at the thought of going back to my old school, and I turn back to my social worker. Huh, ex-social worker now. The tingle turns into a shiver and takes over me, despite the warmth still in the air.

  “I’m fine. I understand all of my rights, I've done the mandatory counseling, and I'm ready to be a big girl out in the world.”

  She snorts, then hands me my case files and the enrollment forms for the head office. She's a brusque sort of woman, not maternal at all, and I think that's why we get along so well. It's weird to think I won't see her again. I’ve gotten used to listening to the comforting Southern tones of her voice.

  “You ain't ready for shit, kid. I've left your emergency line on a card in your files if you get into trouble, but you're off my roster now. Try to do well at your fancy school and stay off the streets.”

  What a glowing statement of confidence. I think about giving her a hug but decide against it, and instead I give her a small wave. She gets back in the car and I watch as she drives away. For a second I feel a flare of panic in my chest, but I quickly push that away. It doesn't matter that I'm alone now. I don't need anyone but myself. If my life so far has proven anything to me, it is that I am strong enough to survive anything.

  Once the car is no longer in view, I grab the small satchel that holds all my belongings and head up the cobblestone path toward the main building. It’s like a fairy tale here, and if I believed in such things, it probably would have felt like a good omen.

  There are students everywhere. The entire grounds are teeming with teenagers, and I'm getting a ton of curious looks. I try not to let it get to me as I walk up to the office. When I make it, huffing and puffing under the weight of my bag, the door is being held open by a group of teenagers and it’s clear they're closely related. They're all dark-haired, blue-eyed, and their facial features look as though they were carved from marble by a master artist. The older boy is smirking at the front desk, and the other two, a boy and a girl, are looking at him despondently, glassy-eyed and utterly bored. None of them spare me so much as a glance.

  “Yvette, I really don't care what your policies are, I'm not sharing with Ash. Put Avery in with him. They're attached at the hip anyway.”

  The receptionist, a lush woman who is at the very least in her forties, gives him a firm look, but he clearly doesn't care. His shoulders are broad and tight under his blazer. He looks like he’s poised and ready to strike. I press my back against the wall out of habit, a lesson learned years ago. When there’s danger in the room, you don’t leave your back unguarded.

  “Mr. Beaumont, as you well know, it is against school policy for there to be co-ed rooms, even amongst siblings.”

  He sneers at her and spits out, “I am not sharing. Who do I have to write the check out to? You will give me a single room.”

  I scoff at that, but then Yvette is pulling out a ledger and he's handing over a shiny black credit card. This is my first clue at how truly messed up this school’s moral code is.

  “And who, exactly, are you?” the girl, Avery, says and I startle when I realize she's talking to me.

  “Lips. Lips Anderson. I'm a freshman.”

  A smile dances around the edge of her painted lips, but her eyes aren’t amused.

  “What sort of degenerate names their child Lips?” the boy drawls and, weirdly, it makes me feel kind of boneless. He turns to face me, and I’m struck dumb by the sight of him. That is until I see the disgust on his face. He looks at me like I'm a venereal disease. I choose not to answer him and push away from the wall. I brush past the group to pile all my paperwork up on the desk, feigning confidence, even though I'm kind of shaky. Is the whole school full of gorgeous, rich assholes? The older sibling looks down his nose at me as well before he turns on his heel and stalks out, presumably to go find his new single room. The receptionist ignores me and turns soft eyes onto the remaining boy.

  “I'm so sorry. I assumed you would want to share with your brother, Ash. Do you want a single too? I have a spare in the boys’ dorms.”

  He smiles, and his whole face changes. My breath catches in my chest and I take note. This boy can use his looks as a weapon, and he very clearly knows it.

  “Actually, I'd rather share with Mr. Arbour and Mr. Morrison, if that's possible? I know there's some triple rooms, and we’re probably the best candidates in our year to bunk together.”

  Yvette blushes and stumbles over her words. She's quick to take his bait, and it's hard not to roll my eyes.

  “Oh, the triple rooms aren't for boys of your breeding or stature. They're for the lower families.”

  Lower families? Sweet lord, here we go. I assume with just how low my family is, I'll be in the damn basement. That suits me just fine.

  “I insist. I need to keep a close eye on them both and make sure there isn't a repeat of last year.” He winks, and Yvette nearly swoons.

  I glance over and see Avery watching the entire exchange with molten fury in her eyes. I think for a minute that she's pissed at her brother, and then she reaches out gently and clasps his hand. He doesn't look back at his sister, but he gives her hand a quick squeeze. She doesn’t like that he’s being forced to flirt with this woman; she’s protective of him.

  “Are there singles available in the girls’ dorms?” His voice is back to the drawl. Yvette checks some papers in front of her and smiles.

  “Avery is already in one of the singles. There's two available, and I popped her straight in it. Your twin called me earlier and…expressed her desires.”

  Her hesitation seems totally out of place, and when she looks at Avery there's fear in her eyes. I make a note of that too and file the information away.

  “Lovely. Thank you, Yvette.”

  The twins leave with another look my way, and then Yvette turns to give me a once-over.

  “I'm assuming you’re the scholarship student?” Jeez, if only I looked like Ash, I might have gotten a better welcome. I smile despite her tone and offer her my hand to shake.

  “Eclipse Anderson. I prefer Lips, though.”

  She ignores my hand, gives me a hard look, and takes my paperwork.

  “Scholarship students are a handful already, and now we have an emancipated student? I'll warn you that this school is held to the highest standard of morals, and you will be expected to behave in an exemplary manner,” she says, like she wasn't just getting hot and heavy over a teenage boy.

  I make sure my face is a mask of polite obedience and nod along with her. You don't survive foster care as well as I have without being able to lie a little.

  “You are also being put in a single. There was some upset about your lodging amongst the other students.”

  “Upset?” I raise my eyebrows at her tone.

  “These are girls of very prestigious families, and they have some serious concerns about sharing with a girl with your…reputation.”

  What the hell? “What exactly is my reputation?”

  “We’ve had a few run-ins with Mounts Bay High girls before, which has led to strict rules about how our students spend their time outside of Hannaford. There are concerns for the safety of the students and their property.”

  I flush scarlet and clench my teeth together so hard I might crack them. I'm about to tell this woman where to shove her opinions when the door to the principal's office opens and Mr. Trevelen steps out. His eyes light up when he spots me, and he lets out a long exhale.

  Mr. Trevelen was responsible for awarding scholarships, and he personally interviewed me at the end of my last school year. He had sat in the care house I was stuck in, and listened to my entire life story like he actually gave a damn about helping me. Even with my great marks, I had been turned down for other scholarships because of my living situation and family history, so I knew he had gone out on a limb for me.

  “Miss Anderson, what a relief you've made it here safely! I had some concerns after the Academy car was declined by your guardian.”

  I smile an
d readjust the bag strap on my shoulder.

  “I think she just wanted to be nosey and see the school up close.”

  An extravagant fence surrounds the entire school property, and the ornate gate is electric. I'd been given a keycard to get in, which I now hand back to Mr. Trevelen.

  “I won't hold it against her,” he says with a wink, “I have cleared some time from my schedule this morning to walk you to your dorm, and then show you around a little. Most of your peers will already know where to go, as they have completed an orientation week here during the spring. I wouldn't want you to get lost.”

  Yvette gives me another look, but I smile at her sweetly and grab my bags to follow the principal out the door.

  At least I have someone on my side.

  My room is tiny.

  It's at the end of the hall in the girls’ dorm. I had to walk past all the other large and luxurious suites to get to it, so I know it must be a converted closet. Some of the other girls are lounging around the common areas and sniggering behind their hands as I walk past, like it's so funny I've got this room.

  It's the first time in my life I've got a room to myself.

  These spoiled brats have no clue what I've survived and having a room that barely fits my bed in it is not hard. The bed is a double, which is another first, and there's a small closet that would still fit ten times the clothes I own. I can feel a silly smile tugging at my lips, and I fight the urge to squeal.

  I have my own room at the best school in the country.

  I am going to nail this year, and then every other year until I graduate. I'm going to go to an Ivy League college on another scholarship, and then I'm going to become… actually, I haven't figured that out yet. I'm still researching what the highest paid industry is and whether I could work there for forty years without wanting to kill myself.

  I unpack and stash my bags away. I get down on my hands and knees and tap away quietly until I find a suitable wooden board to pull up. It’s easy enough work with my knife, and once it’s out, I slide the tiny safe I’ve brought with me into the gap. I use some old shirts to stuff the space and hide the hollow crevice from others who would think to tap around, then I slide the wood back over it. What the safe holds is worth more than my life.

  I've got a text waiting on my phone, and I don't have to look at it to see it's Matteo. He's the only person who has my number and, really, he's the last piece of my old life I have left. The same icy fingers of fear crawl up my spine as I read his text.

  This town doesn't feel the same without you. Come home soon.

  I snort, but there isn't much I can say to him without some sort of consequences.

  Matteo D’Ardo was another foster kid, and four years older than me. We met at school, and he had taken me under his wing even before my mom died and I wound up in the system. He was dangerous. More dangerous than any of these rich kids could ever be. They play pretend in their safe little bubble, but Matteo was the Jackal. He owned more than my home city; he owned the entire state. In a lot of ways, he owned me too.

  Keep me in the loop. I'll be back for the party and trials next summer.

  When the scholarship offer had arrived at the care home I was living in, I had made the decision to put aside my life in Mounts Bay, California, and to take a chance on a better life. The public school I had left behind had a reputation for churning out drug dealers, gangsters, and single mothers. If I didn’t make it at Hannaford Prep, my options were limited. I didn’t want to follow Matteo. I didn’t want to settle for a desperate life.

  I shove the phone into my back pocket and head down to the dining hall. The whispers follow me and it's creepy as fuck. It's pretty clear that not only am I not welcome but the other students actively resent me being here. I wonder what exactly the other Mounts Bay students have done to leave this kind of impression.

  The dining hall is a long room that resembles a wide corridor. It’s in the center of the building, so there’re no windows and the room is lit only by massive chandeliers. There’s only room for a single, stretched wooden table that could easily seat two hundred people. Hannaford is very exclusive, but I know there must be more students attending than that. At the far end there are teachers already eating, but there's gaps everywhere. I only spare the logistics of mealtimes a moment's thought before I go to stand in line. I get to hear more of the crap that's being said about me. One girl even says I slept with Mr. Trevelen to get the scholarship, and I turn to give her a proper glare. The arrogance in this room is astounding. I need to build up a shield to it all. I need to become immune, so I can make it through my time here.

  The food looks incredible, and I heap it onto my plate. I'm way too skinny, the type of skinny that only happens after years of food scarcity, and I'm licking my lips at the thought of eating three big meals a day.

  Once my tray is full, I start to look for a seat that isn't surrounded by glaring students. I end up at the far end, close to the teachers, with no other students within ten chairs of me. It's actually perfect.

  Until the far door opens and they walk in.

  The twins are flanked by a guy so gorgeous I’m stunned, and it takes me a second to realize it's the guy from the courthouse last month. He looks absolutely devastating in his uniform, and there are girls frothing left, right and center over both him and Ash. Avery is looking down her nose at them all. I notice again that the teachers all eye her like she's a ticking time bomb with their name on it. Interesting.

  I watch them discreetly as I eat, the subtle art of surveillance being something I picked up from my time with the Jackal. Ash is holding two plates, and as Avery picks out food, he's filling one up for her. It's kind of sweet how close they are, how effortlessly they're taking care of each other. The other boy is laughing and joking with them both, but his laugh is dark and twisted, like he's making fun of everything around him.

  When they're done, they head to the table and a hush falls over the room. I can practically see students praying they decide to sit with them, like it'll somehow boost their social status. This school is so weird.

  Avery leads the boys to sit across the table and a few seats down from me. The stunning guy pulls out a chair for her. I know they have no intention of speaking to me, so it makes it easier to duck my head and eat, listening to the scraps of conversations around me.

  “Morrison is going to start mid-semester; he's still in Europe doing his thing.”

  “Lucky us, we get a reprieve from all of the little shit’s revelers. If I have to find one more pair of lacy panties stuffed in his door frame, I will retire on the spot.”

  The explicit language from a teacher makes me smile, but I don't look to see which one said it. What kind of a school is this? I shake my head and try to focus on my dinner. I've never eaten such delicious food in my life, and I'm looking forward to the next four years for that alone.

  “I can see the hole from across the table. I'm ordering you a new one, so swallow your useless pride,” Avery says, and even with the harshness of the words, her voice is much nicer when it's not directed at me.

  “I don't fucking need a new one. It's a design statement. Leave it be, Floss,” the other boy says, and even though he's swearing at her I can hear the affection. I can also feel Avery seething.

  “Don't call me that here. And the only statement you’re making is ‘too poor to care’. Do you want a repeat of last year?”

  That's the second reference to something happening last year I've heard, and now I'm interested to find out what they're going on about. I glance up and make eye contact with the hot boy by accident. I hold it for a second, and then glance away because I don't want to look like I'm scared of his attention, even though I'm beginning to sweat in his general proximity. Get ahold of yourself.

  “Who's the new kid?”

  “Lips.” Avery stretches my name out, and it sounds so juvenile coming from her. Both boys snigger, and I roll my eyes where they can't see. Ash sums up the opinion of me that the whole ro
om has already come to.

  “Who gives a fuck, she's Mounty trash.”

  If only that were true.

  Chapter Two

  If you’re in the top classes at Hannaford, they start at 7 a.m., which seems to be cruel and unusual torture to me. Why punish the high achievers?

  I sleep like the dead, and still I want to pitch my alarm at the wall.

  I manage to get up and look human in my crisp uniform. I even squeeze in the time to put on a little makeup to try and hide the dark marks under my eyes. I don't need to give the other kids any more ammo.

  My scholarship pays for exactly three daily uniforms, two sets of sporting tracksuits, and a formal uniform for representing the school at social functions. This means I have to be very mindful of what happens to these clothes, because the school skirt alone costs more than a month’s worth of groceries.

  The dining hall is basically empty, so I get to sit close to the door and stuff my breakfast into my mouth. I wish I had the time to savor the fluffy scrambled eggs and crispy bacon, but I'm on a serious time crunch. I hoover it down, and then grab an apple on the way out.

  My first class is history, and I'm relieved to see a seating plan posted on the door. I'm at the back and sharing with a male student, Harley Arbour. Avery is at the desk in front of us, and Ash isn't in the class, which is great because I don't want to be called trash this early in the morning. It’s harder to rein my temper in.

  It's like a gut punch when I realize the super hot guy’s name is Harley, and I now have to share a desk with him three times a week. He smells incredible, like bergamot and cloves, and I find myself angry at him for it. I have never really taken much notice of guys. I’m not interested in being knocked up and abandoned like my mom was. It was easy enough in Mounts Bay. All the guys in my grade had that air of desperation that comes with teenage hormones and poverty. Everyone at that school was living below the poverty line, and everyone was going hungry. I couldn’t look at any guy without getting the distinct feeling they just wanted an escape from the bleak hole that was their life. Plus, they all knew I was associated with Matteo. They all steered clear of me.