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The campus is big,but this school is selective. Or that’s what Prim was going on and on about this morning when I was nursing my second coffee. Mount Crest is one of the top schools in the nation. So, the fact that I’m even here, much less on a scholarship, is impressive. I exit the old arched building as I make my way to the cafeteria for lunch. I grab a cheeseburger and fries—I’m not on a diet nor do I ever care to be on one. I sit my food down on an empty table by the expanse of windows. Prim plops down a second later, grilled chicken and rice on her plate. She wears a white sundress, almost the exact shade of her hair. She looks like an angel in all her white, innocent glory. She peeks at me through glossy black lashes. “Hi.”
“What’s up, Prim? How has your day been?”
She sticks her fork in her chicken, using a knife to slowly cut her food into pieces, and shrugs. “Okay.”
I sit up a little straighter at her sad tone. “No, what is wrong?”
She looks around the cafeteria before she leans in closer. “Vance is in all of my classes. And I do mean all of them. He snapped some guy’s pen in half for trying to ask me a question.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Stalker much?”
“Exactly.” She points her fork at me before lowering it down to her plate. “But other than that, it’s been fine.”
I search for something to say to cheer her up, to wipe the concerned look off her face, when a girl approaches. A beautiful girl. Her skin is rich and tan, high cheekbones and dark hair enhancing her Native American heritage. She’s bold. Her presence screams for you to stop and pay attention.
“Hello.” She takes a seat next to me and Prim, her smile wide.
“Hi,” Primrose says, quickly breaking eye contact. She’s extremely shy unless she warms up to you is what I’ve gathered.
“Hey,” I say, deciding I should probably introduce myself. “I’m Brixley.”
She tilts her head. “And do you know who I am?”
I frown. “No, should I?”
She nods. “Interesting.” And then she turns to Prim, “And you are?”
“Oh,” Prim blushes, “I’m sorry. I’m Primrose Thatcher.”
“Amiyah Keller.” Amiyah begins to cut her baked fish as I watch her. Something about her makes me feel uneasy. “So, I see you caught the eyes of The Misfits.”
I have no clue what she’s talking about or why that would warrant her to come sit at our table. “The who?” I deadpan.
She points, and I follow her direction until my eyes clash with familiar hazel eyes. “Those four boys over there? The leaders? It’s a small group. Only hand-selected people get chosen to join them.”
I shrug. “Okay, and why should we care if they have noticed us or not?”
Amiyah stares at me for a moment as if calculating something. “Because when you’re in that group, the world is basically at your fingertips. Any job, opportunity, hell, anything you can think of, is yours. Is that not something everyone would want?”
Any and everything I could ever want has a beautiful ring to it. With my past and how hard I’ve had to hustle to get to this point, I should want that, but because of my past, I know nothing comes for free. I’m willing to sell my body, but my soul is another thing. I shrug. “Sounds nice.”
Amiyah continues as if Prim and I are her audience and she’s the star on stage. “They should be picking new members soon. You know how you’ll know? They’ll leave a bandana in your room.”
No one is questioning how they get in their rooms? Red flag. Fuck that. No thanks. I lean on my elbows, resting my head in my hands as I hold Amiyah’s gaze. “And how do you know so much?”
Amayah’s plush lips curl into something wicked as she says, “Because I am one.”
I shoot up from my seat, grabbing a hold of Primrose’s arm. “Let’s go, Prim.”
“It was nice to meet you.” Amiyah chuckles behind our backs.
Once we’re out of the cafeteria, Prim pulls me to a stop. “Why are we running, Brix?”
I shake my head, my heart pounding. “I… Do you ever get a gut feeling that tells you to get the hell out of there?”
Prim purses her lips. “Sometimes.”
“That,” I point to my stomach, “is why we’re running.”
