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Broken Trust (Pacific Prep #1)
CHAPTER 1
Hadley
I readjust my duffel bag on my shoulder while I take in the towering wrought iron gates in front of me. Who knew a set of gates could hold such significance? Most of the students here probably don’t bat an eye as they pass through them, the cold iron representing nothing more than the start of a new school year. To someone like me, it symbolizes so much more. The opportunity for a private education. The chance at a new life, a future. Freedom.
Taking in the school crest branded on the gates, my eyes hover over the three words the school has chosen to embody everything they stand for.
Felicitatem. Patientiam Operatur. Dignitate.
Prosperity. Perseverance. Prestige.
No, I sure as hell do not speak Latin, but I do know how to do a google search. Only one of those words resonates with me. Perseverance. I’ve endured my fair share of shit so far in this reasonably short life. As for prosperity and prestige? Well, only the wealthy can afford that shit, and I’m sure as fuck not that.
Ignoring the judgmental eyes from the passing chauffeur-driven cars as they make their way through the gates and up the tree-lined drive, I trail after them, taking in the campus as I walk.
The campus is vast and fancy as hell, with its grandeur buildings, perfectly manicured lawns and trimmed hedges. I can just about make out a football field and tennis courts, as well as some sort of sports center in the distance.
I walk past a large building that is somehow even more prestigious looking than the others. It’s got more steps leading up to it than any normal building needs, meaning it towers above me, with its large glass windows and dramatic floor-to-ceiling columns.
Above the large wooden doors, a plaque reads ‘Davenport Hall’. Well, whoever the Davenports are, they have more money than they clearly know what to do with. What school needs a hall like that? I bet it’s only used a few times a year.What a waste!
Strolling on, I watch as cars stop in front of another building up ahead of me. Students climb out, most of them with their parents, looking around warily before following their parents up the steps—freshmen kids, I bet. As they disappear through the front entrance, uniformed men rush over to the cars and start lifting luggage out of their trunk, placing them on carts and, I’m assuming, taking them off to the students' accommodations.
Older students who have their own car—which appears to be everyone over the age of sixteen—climb out of their vehicles in the parking lot opposite the main building, greeting their friends, laughing and joking with one another as they slowly make their way toward the school. They all look perfectly presented in their school uniforms, not a crease to be seen or a hair out of place. With their white teeth, flawless makeup, and expensive haircuts, they look like models or celebrities, all of them oozing the sort of confidence that only comes with having money.
I cast a quick glance down the front of my white shirt. The school had it delivered to me for today, but, despite it being exactly the same as everyone else's, it doesn’t hug my slim frame or accentuate my boobs like it does on other girls.
I run my hand over the shirt, smoothing it out, pulling on the ends of my green, gray, and black tartan mini-skirt so it sits a little lower. I’m not used to wearing short skirts and it feels like a light breeze would give everyone a firsthand view of my basic white underwear.
Approaching the main school building, I follow behind a group of girls, only half listening to them as they catch up, ranting and raving about their summer vacations spent in far off exotic countries, while my eyes roam over the building.
It goes without saying that this is yet another fancy as fuck, ostentatious structure that resembles what I imagine a 17th century manor house would look like. I have to crane my neck back to see all the way up to the roof, the three stories looming over me. It’s built in the same fashion as the hall I just walked past, composed of dark stone and large windows.
Walking between two large columns, I ascend the stairs, making my way through the large entryway into the open foyer beyond. The atrium is the depth of the building, with large glass doors, providing an unobstructed view of an enormous courtyard beyond, lined with shrubs. There’s a massive marble fountain in the center, with picnic tables and benches placed around the open space.
Glancing around, I notice there are corridors branching to the left and right, and a staircase leading up to the second floor, with a balcony overlooking the atrium. Students and their parents are dispersed around the room, saying their final goodbyes, while others move out to the courtyard where I can see others milling around.
“Finally,” a tall girl with perfectly curled white-blonde hair, way too much makeup, and sky high heels snaps, striding toward me, her hips swaying seductively, her tartan skirt swishing against her thighs with every step she takes. “It’s about time you showed up.”
“Me?” I ask, looking behind me in case she’s talking to someone else.
“Yes. You. Who else would I be talking to?”
She casts her eyes over my appearance, her lips pursing in disapproval as she takes in my curly blonde hair that’s impossible to tame and face clear of makeup. Self-consciously, I run my hand through the mass of curls in a vain attempt to flatten them a bit. I don’t get a chance to say anything, not that I have any idea what to say to this weirdo who’s snapping at me, when her eyes fall on my worn duffel bag.
