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In the next second I decide that I don’t care if she’s shivering because I’m thinking about what happened the first time I showed up at the bus stop with the unsightly Black Mountain Academy blazer stuffed under my arm.
She barreled right over like an unhappy, plaid-skirted bull. “Don’t tell me YOU are going to Black Mountain?” Her eyes were so wide I thought they’d fall out of her head. She’d said the word ‘YOU’ like ‘EWWW’.
And I grinned at her. I knew that I was better looking than most guys and I wanted to fuck with her prissy attitude a little. “That’s right. Looks like we’ll be sharing a ride every day. So play nice and maybe I’ll let you sit on my lap, Cammy.”
“No one calls me Cammy. And you can keep your lap, Ben. From what I hear it’s probably worn out.”
She was trying to be all haughty and superior but her voice cracked and a blush colored her cheeks. I could have easily kept up my end of that exchange of offenses but I let her have the last word. I wasn’t being nice. I just didn’t care enough to bother at the time.
That was last January and our interactions have not improved much since then. Our finest hour peaked this past fall at a BMA football home game. She’s in charge of the Black Mountain Academy Bulletin so she attended the game in order to get in everyone’s way, pestering them for quotable thoughts on ‘these waning days of our high school careers’. No kidding, those were her actual words. I was just there to watch some football and maybe get a handful of tit at one of the after parties so when Camden got to me I told her the honest truth. She got all fired up and called me a colossal prick. I acted like that was an invitation. I offered to drop my pants right there in the bleachers and give her a show. I wasn’t serious. But she yelped and scampered away as if the sight of a penis might blind her. Since then she pretends like she’s allergic to me.
Camden is a Devil Valley lifer. She’s undeniably cute but I never see her mixing with the local crowd. This isn’t a huge town so everyone knows who she is and is aware that she gets ferried off to exclusive Black Mountain Academy every day. She acts like she thinks she’s pretty special, skipping out of here each morning in her plaid skirt to go mingle in more pretentious circles. She’s a star in her own head, climbing out of the Devil Valley slums to be the special snowflake at BMA. She doesn’t want to share that role with me or anyone else.
Since Camden refuses to look in my direction again I’m free to keep staring at her legs while wishing for another breeze to lift her skirt. Camden’s got a great body. Unfortunately, it’s attached to her personality. She might be plenty of fun if she kept her mouth shut and took off her shirt. The stirring in my pants reminds me that I don’t have to like a girl to want to see her naked. The guys might be onto something with this hate sex idea. I probably wouldn’t turn that down.
The low growl of an engine puts an end to my pornographic thoughts. The aging green bus coughs and moans its way to the corner and then with a squeal of the brakes the doors open.
“IT’S A BEAUTIFUL MORNING!” The woman who sings out the greeting is somewhere around my mom’s age. She’s too irrationally happy about driving a decrepit municipal bus on a frigid morning.
I hustle up the steps, flash my pass and drop my backpack into the last seat on the left. Only a handful of other riders are yawning in their own seats and every one of them is alone. I watch Camden climb on and smile at the driver before sitting up front. I stare at the back of her head. It’s a familiar sight. She’s in most of my classes and always sits in the front row, back straight in the chair, pen at the ready to copy down whatever priceless wisdom rains from the teacher’s mouth.
The drive to Black Mountain takes twenty-four minutes. Sometimes I push my backpack against the window and use it as a pillow while the scenery flies past. But today I don’t feel like napping because I’m thinking of Camden’s skirt flying up. I don’t want to. I just can’t help it. If I thought I could get away with it I might spank one out real quick in my seat.
My hand brushes the rigid bulge in my pants. My mind pictures blinding white panties and the tantalizing V at the center. A groaning hiss escapes me and the old lady sitting two rows up pauses her knitting needles to swivel around and deliver a suspicious glare.
I glare right back. But I also take my hand off my dick and look out the window instead.
The landscape gets prettier as we leave Devil Valley behind. Not everyone in the town of Black Mountain is wealthy or famous. There are plenty of regular folks mixed in. However, Devil Valley is considered a distant poor cousin and some people turn this into a rivalry. The sports teams don’t often play each other, which is a good thing because when they do, Black Mountain always wins. Then there’s a fight because some jackass will inevitably shoot off his mouth and Devil Valley kids don’t take kindly to being crapped on.
Black Mountain’s snowy peak looms closer. There were no mountains in sight where I grew up. Instead we had endless miles of pristine beaches lined with multi million dollar homes. We had surfing and yacht clubs and ocean breezes. We had girls in bikinis and sunshine and decadence.
But scratch that glittering surface and you’ll find depravity and violence. At least in my family. Those are the things I choose to think of when nostalgia for my old life threatens to make me bitter about this one.
Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever admit the truth to anyone or if I’ll live my whole life as Ben Beltran. I also wonder if there’s anyone on earth who asks what the hell happened to Bennet Drexler. I had plenty of friends in Coral Beach. I had lots of girls who liked me. I had teachers and neighbors. I also had relatives. But where blood relations are concerned I try to have faith that out of sight means out of mind. Most of the time I hope to never see those bastards again. And sometimes I hope I do see them again so I can beat the living shit out of them. It’s a foolish wish. They aren’t the types to fight fair.
While I’m brooding, the dull gray winter sky lightens just a little. The town of Black Mountain is just ahead in the shadow of the real mountain that gave it a name. Hardly any of the Academy kids are bussed in and most of them live in the surrounding gated neighborhoods because the school isn’t cheap. BMA is full of the spawn of the upper crust. A few of them are genuine celebrity stock but most are just plain super rich. They’d be shocked to hear that I was one of them for most of my life. Now my participation in their world is a technicality. I’m just on the periphery, an extra that adds to the noise of their lives.
Even without access to a clock I know the late bell has already rung. The first bus stop in town is at the south end of campus and I can see that the grassy quad is already clear except for a few lingering slackers. The bus hasn’t even stopped yet and Camden is already standing up and waiting for the doors to open. Waves of uptight angst roll off her as she clutches her book bag and agonizes over every precious second that the classroom misses out on her presence. I take my time making my way up from the back and when the driver hits the brakes a little too hard the bus pitches to a halt. I could have stopped myself from lurching forward but I don’t. I pretend like it’s an accident when I roll right against Camden’s back and get my hands around her waist to keep us both steady. Camden is one of the taller girls in our class, maybe only four or five inches below my six foot two height. That means when she turns to give me the stink eye she doesn’t have to crane her neck. Her hair smells like strawberries and bubble gum. I have a weird urge to bury my face in it.
Instead I take my hands off her waist and try out a polite act. “Gosh, so sorry about that.”
She clears her throat and whips her hair around so that a chunk of it smacks me on the cheek. I want that hair fanned out in my lap. I want to do appalling things to it even though I would guess that the very thought of a guy’s dick sliding into Camden’s neurotic rosebud mouth would probably make her pass the fuck out.
The door opens, Camden huffs out the word “Jackass” and then hurries moodily down the steps.
The driver only has one voice volume. “HAVE A MIRACULOUS DAY!” She waves a purple gloved hand at us.
Camden is already taking long strides toward the quad. If she’s trying to escape me then she’ll have to try harder. I deliberately keep pace two feet behind her. We’re halfway to the imposing double door entrance when she stops, spins and scowls.
“What the hell, Ben?”
She thinks I’m screwing with her on purpose.
Of course I am.
But we also have the same first class so I have every reason to travel in the exact same direction.
We’re now in the middle of the quad and highly visible to all the unseen eyes behind the many windows of the main building. I don’t know what it says about me that I enjoy pissing her off but I remain silent, smile my best Fuck You grin, and wait for her to turn around and keep walking. A few tense seconds pass while Camden tries to decide if I’m worth the effort of more shouting.
