I missed the days at Redwood Prep when I was completely invisible. Now, I can’t walk down the hallway without people gawking at me, waiting for the next ugly surprise from Dutch and his minions to unfold.
The Kings are as creative as they are cruel. This week alone—apart from getting carted over Dutch’s shoulder like a caveman’s dinner—my locker got hosed and my books were ruined, my practice keyboard got slathered in honey, and I was locked in the bathroom. Twice.
It’s all middle-school level pranking, but it’s frustrating as hell.
At this point, I’m looking forward to the weekend so I can have a break from this hellhole.
I shuffle to the music room, frowning at the substitute behind Mr. Mulliez’s desk. She’s an older woman with greying hair and bug eyes behind thick window glasses.
Most of the time, she seems scared of everyone in the classroom and doesn’t do much more than drone on about music theory while the rest of us doze off.
As usual, I take a seat at the back and start gazing out the window, dreading the moment when class is to begin.
It’s hard for me without Mr. Mulliez here. There’s still a burning in the bottom of my stomach because of how unfair his termination was. Every time I look at the substitute, I’m reminded of Dutch’s evil.
For the sake of my sanity, I have no choice but to tune out during class.
I’m counting clouds and trying to figure out how Redwood Prep pays for all that lawn maintenance when the door bangs open.
I glance up along with the rest of the class and then I hold my breath astheystroll into the room. Dutch, Zane and Finn are flanked by their groupies in cheer uniforms. Aren’t dancers supposed to be hanging on the arms of athletes? Why are they so obsessed with these rock stars?
“Excuse me,” the substitute adjusts her glasses, “do you students belong in this class?”
Zane steps forward. His raven hair is brushed back rather than flopping all over his forehead today. Blue eyes sparkle with an incandescent light.
“We’re not on the attendance sheet because we’ve been touring, but we have this class.”
“Ah, I see.” She adjusts her glasses and bites her bottom lip, clearly charmed.
Ugh. Even grannies fall for Zane’s smile. I guess I shouldn’t feel too foolish for following him straight into a trap that day in the Cross’s practice room.
Just ignore them, Cadence.
I’m trying my best to disappear into my chair when goosebumps start prickling on my skin and waves of awareness charge over me. I look up and notice Dutch glaring in my direction.
He’s in black pants and a dark vest today. The black ensemble against his ivory skin and golden-blonde hair is something close to poetry. Amber eyes slice through me, glinting like a predator’s.
He’s so dangerously beautiful that it’s impossible to believe he’s around my age. His eyes, his face, his confidence belongs to someone who’s experienced far more of the world than any regular eighteen-year-old.
He quirks an eyebrow at me and I know, instinctively, that he’s not here to follow the curriculum.
They’re here to terrorize me.
My fingers tighten around my pen. I glare at him, refusing to let him see me squirm.
Dutch has got some nerve showing up in Mulliez’s class after what he did. I’m sure if someone were to take an X-ray of this guy’s soul, they’d find nothing but sulfur and brimstone.
Dutch smirks when he sees me glowering at him. He’s taunting me without saying a word.
My heart churns with bitterness. It takes everything in me to stay seated. Storming over and slapping him would play right into his hands, which is why I refuse to give in to the impulse.
It’s a well-known secret that Jarod Cross, Dutch, Finn and Zane’s dad, has donated generously to the music program and to the school in general. To say the teachers are on the Cross payroll would not be an exaggeration.
The brothers are more powerful than ever now. If someone was going to do something about Dutch, Finn and Zane, they’ve certainly been scared back into their holes after what happened to Mulliez.
If I give Dutch the swift kick up the butt that he deserves, he’ll have me flying out of Redwood so fast my head spins. The only way to get back at them is to endure. And to do that, I can’t give in to my temper.
Time seems to stop while the brothers saunter to their desks. I lower my head, sure that they’re not going to sit beside me since all the seats in the back row are already taken.