“Don’t hog them!” Leon interrupts her aggressive embrace, tugging my arm. “Oh my God, Ken, your hair!” He eyes my botched attempt at a balayage. “It doesn’t look too bad!”
I roll my eyes. “That’s because I went to a salon and paid $500 for them tofix it.That YouTube video you sent me was completely useless.”
Leon’s jaw drops. “Brad Mondo is a guru! You probably just didn’t follow his instructions correctly.”
Max snorts. “If anyone can follow instructions, it’s Kenny. I’m with her on this one.”
“See!” I cross my arms. “Maybe you should dye your own hair and show me how it’s done.”
Leon tilts his head, his eyes alight with humor. “If I bleached my hair, I’d look like Chris Brown circa 2011—that’s not a good look, for anyone.”
Leon and I glare at each other for a second before Felicity sighs. “Okay, enough children. We have more important things to discuss, like Kennedy losing her mind half an hour ago.”
“What’re you talking about?” I ask her slowly, side-eyeing Maxine.
“Maxie sent us a video of you devouring that leather jacket-wearing stud!” Felicity exclaims, shoving her phone in my face. “You almost look feral!”
“Max!” I whine. “You said you didn’t post it anywhere! What the hell?”
Max purses her lips, sheepishly kicking her foot against the wall. “I didn’t post it. I just sent it to Leon and Fel.”
Leon smirks, watching the video on Fel’s phone. “My soul almost left my body when I watched it for the first time. Who knew our little Ken-Ken has such a high libido?”
“Guys! Will you stop? Please! It’s not what you think.” I crane my neck over my shoulder and sneak a peek at the newIt Couple. “I thought maybe I could make Sawyer jealous,” I admit timidly. “And then he’d realize how much he loves me.”
“Seeing as his tongue is so far down Corrine’s throat that he could probably touch her tonsils, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that it didn’t work,” Leon notes casually.
Felicity’s elbow flies into his ribs. “Leon! Don’t be such a dick. She’s still fragile!”
I laugh nervously, trying to cover the gut-wrenching pain in the pit of my stomach. “It’s fine, Leon’s right. It was...stupid.”
The loud clicking of orthopedic high heels echoes through the hallway. Oh, thank God, Mrs. Patella is here. We part like the Red Sea to make room for our sixty-one-year-old teacher.
“Alright, everyone.” Mrs. Patella unlocks the door. “Take a seat. Quickly now.”
Max, Felicity, Leon, and I rush to the far end of the classroom and sit down. Max always chooses to sit behind me in every single class we share so she can text behind my back, or cheat off of me during tests—both reasons have merit.
“Alright, welcome back, everybody,” Mrs. Patella begins, pacing back and forth in the front of the classroom. “I take it everyone had a relaxing vacation?” A sea of nods and yeses fills the room. “Excellent. Let’s start with some housekeeping, then.”
Mrs. Patella drones on about this year’s schedule, academic clubs, and social events; emphasizing the importance of extracurriculars on our college application forms. When she’s just about finished listing off every club available at Hilton, the classroom door springs open and Oliver comes sauntering in, holding a note in his hand.
Despite my hatred for the boy, I’d be lying if I said he doesn’t clean up well. Even though his tie is haphazardly looped around his neck and his button-up shirt isnottucked into his pants, he looks tamer and more approachable now than he did an hour ago. I don’t know why he even bothered showing up this late. Homeroom is only for thirty minutes.
“Apologies,” Oliver says lazily to Mrs. Patella, handing her the folded piece of paper. “I hadmechanicalproblems.” I turn my head away, hoping he doesn’t see me.
Max pinches my side. “Oh my God! Isn’t that the guy?” she whispers.
Leon and Felicity both lean toward me like the nosy fucks they are. “That’s him, right?” Leon murmurs.
“Will you guysshut up!” I sneer under my breath, waving them away, my heart racing. Shit! He’s in our grade! A sheen of sweat forms on my palms when Oliver’s eyes flicker in my direction, cold and calculating. He tosses me a wink before sitting down at an empty desk in the back of the classroom.
Mrs. Patella places his note on the table. “It seems as though we have a new student joining us from overseas.” She gestures toward British-boy. “Why don’t you give us an introduction and tell the class an interesting fact about yourself?”
Most of us have been going to school together since we were six years old, so a new student is a rarity, especially since Hilton is an exclusive prep school. A part of me wonders how he even got accepted. Every head turns toward the new kid with the shitty attitude, an air of curiosity permeates the room. The only person not looking at him is Sawyer; instead, he’s scrolling through his phone under the desk.
Oliver runs a hand through his messy hair and sighs. “I’d rather not."
Mrs. Patella smiles, an action that outsiders would interpret as friendly, but Hilton students know better. “That was not a request,” she states. “Introduce yourself. Right now.”
