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Oh, of course he got off on being a dick. That wasn’t surprising. What was a little surprising was the fact that he didn’t seem to be ashamed of it; he kept his midsection pressed firmly against me, which let me feel the growing hardness.
“The moment I’m tired of you, you’re gone. You and your mother. One snap of my fingers is all it’ll take,” Gareth whispered, the hand on my throat curling upward to grip the bottom of my jaw. His nose brushed against mine, his stare so close and so hateful it was blinding. “If I were you, I’d be thinking of ways to make me happy.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t stop myself from muttering, “I don’t think someone like you is ever happy.” No, people like Gareth were miserable twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and all they wanted to do was drag everyone around them down.
A puff of hot air left him, and his other hand lifted to my hip, pushing beneath my shirt. His fingertips dug into my skin, holding onto my side like he was trying to break me. It hurt, but I didn’t flinch.
Pain didn’t scare me.
“No, maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m never happy… but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try,” Gareth spoke, sounding calm as ever. Now, I could see what Rick had meant when he’d called him a little psychopath.
The hand on my jaw dropped, finally letting my face go. It didn’t go far, though. Down past my collarbone, hovering over my chest. It was almost like he wanted to touch me, wanted to slip that hand under my shirt, but he stopped himself—barely.
He took two steps away from me, scowling. “Don’t play games with me.” And then, without saying anything else, he stormed out of my room, leaving me against the wall, breathing hard, wondering what the hell I was going to do.
It was obvious to me then: I wasn’t safe with Gareth. If he did something, Alistair would cover it up. My mom would either not believe me or not care, not wanting to put her new marriage in jeopardy.
I was alone. I had to learn how to navigate Gareth and his craziness all by myself.
The next day was my first day at Eastcreek High. My mom barely said two words to me before I left, even though she’d be gone for her honeymoon by the time we got back from school. Alistair, at least, wished me luck.
A sad day when your semi-creepy and totally attractive new stepfather was more earnest in wishing you a good day than your own mom was.
Gareth said not a word to me as we drove to school, which was fine. It meant I didn’t have to think of any smart comebacks; it was too early for that shit, anyway.
Seriously. The sun hadn’t even risen yet, and we were going to school. Why did it have to start so freaking early? At least at my old school, the sky wasn’t black when you were getting to school.
Eastcreek High was very different from what I was used to. When we pulled into the parking lot, I saw a lot of older vehicles, none as nice as the sportscar Gareth drove—for obvious reasons. The school itself was a one-story building with hardly any windows, which meant it had to be old. Probably had AC problems and all the other shit that often came with older buildings, too.
Other students who’d driven themselves were walking inside the front door. Gareth parked the car in the back of the lot and didn’t even spare me a glance as he got out.
He didn’t even have a backpack. I’d bet anything he wasn’t trying in his classes, but his teachers all knew who he was, so they were more lenient on him than they would be on anyone else. Favoritism and nepotism, all rolled into one.
I got out of the car, slung my bag over my shoulder, and started the walk. When I pushed inside, I was greeted with a certain smell I couldn’t put my finger on. Maybe it was just old. Less wide-open space than my old school. Everything cramped, even the halls. With next to no windows, fresh air was something this building never had.
Plus, the walls were made from ugly red and orange bricks. The inside matched the outside in that respect. It was one ugly school, but I guess that’s all you got when you were in such a small town. I bet each graduating class had less than one hundred people.
The office sat directly across from the main door, so while everyone else made beelines for their lockers, I walked right over to it, pushing inside to see who must be the secretary making some copies. A short, stout, middle-aged woman wearing small glasses.
She looked up at me when I entered, and she turned away from the copier to say, “Good morning, honey. I don’t recognize you. You wouldn’t happen to be the new student I’ve heard starts today, would you?” She was trying to be nice. After being on guard with Gareth, I found it difficult to relax.
I gave her a smile. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m Brianna—”
An older man walked around the corner, spotting me and saying, “Brianna Montgomery.”
“Brianna Dent,” I corrected him instantly.
The man’s smile was tight, but maybe that was just because of all the wrinkles on his face. He must’ve been late sixties, or even in his seventies. He wore one of those suits that had elbow patches—shiver—like he thought he was the height of fashion. I assumed he was the principal.
“I can make a note of it to your teachers that you prefer Dent,” he said. “When Alistair set you up with us, he told us you would be changing your last name, but it’s no matter. Come, come.” He gestured for me to walk around the secretary’s desk. “I have your schedule in my office.”
I didn’t know why I had to follow him, why he couldn’t just get me the schedule and let me go, but I found he was rooted in place, unwilling to move until I went with him. So, I gave the secretary one last smile before walking toward him and going with him to his office.
His office was cramped, not very spacious at all. His desk looked old, like it was plucked from the eighties. Tall bookshelves lined the left and right sides of the room, the fluorescent lighting dim in the small, enclosed space—because one of the long bulbs above our heads was out.
“I am Principal Huckleberry,” he spoke, moving to sit at his desk. His chair creaked when he came down on it, the sound so jarring I felt it in my teeth. “Welcome to Eastcreek High. I know it might be a lot for you, everything changing all at once, but my staff and I will do whatever we can to make your transition here as easy as it can be.”
He sounded like he was sugarcoating everything, practically tripping over himself to be nice to me. And, I realized, it was all because I was a Montgomery to him. Just because I wasn’t born a Montgomery didn’t matter. To him, I was on the same level as Gareth.
