Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Chapter 9
RJ
It’s a sick joke. I survived this long without getting trapped in a team jersey or club T-shirt, stayed one step ahead of an orange jumpsuit, only to get led down a blind alley and straight into a blazer and striped tie. When David first mentioned Sandover, I hadn’t realized I’d end up wearing a school uniform with loafers and fucking button-downs every day. If I’d known that, I would’ve skipped town without so much as a note on my pillow.
“Screw this thing.” I yank the blue and green tie from around my neck and chuck it at the floor. “If I wanted to dress like a flight attendant, I’d go as my mom for Halloween.”
“Dude, it’s not that hard.” Fenn picks up the tie and tries to wrap it around my neck as I lean away out of pure spite. “Come here, ya big baby.”
Biting my tongue, I stand still while he ties it loosely.
“See? Easy. When you take it off, just loosen it and pull it over your head. I’m not doing this every morning.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
He flips me off. “Eat my ass.”
Nothing has ever felt so defeating as staring at myself in the mirror in this stupid navy-blue uniform with the gaudy gold crest on the pocket. It’s like someone’s reached in and plucked my soul from my chest while I stand there a hollow husk, dead-eyed and slack.
“Don’t worry, you should have plenty of time to learn to tie it while you’re hiding in here every weekend.”
“Being alone is not the same as hiding,” I tell him while we put on our socks and shoes.
“We got here three days ago and I haven’t seen you leave this place once except to go to the dining hall, and then you won’t even stick around to sit with us. All you do is sit on the computer. I get it, bro, porn can be fun—like that MILF stuff? Where the young stud walks into the kitchen after baseball practice and his cougar stepmother is all like, I’m so lonely, Jonathan. Your father doesn’t fulfill my needs. Please give me your dick.”
I stare at him. “Are you speaking from personal experience here? Do you moonlight as some dude named Jonathan who serves old broads?”
“I fucking wish. Anyway, how much jerking can you do before your dick rots and falls off?”
“You let me know when you figure that out,” I shoot back on our way out the door.
“Seriously, man. If you crawled out of your hole occasionally, you might realize there’s an excellent talent pool out there. Could give lefty a break now and then.”
“God, I can’t imagine how gut-achingly boring sex is with New England townies and stuck-up prep-school girls.”
“Not with that attitude.”
We swing by the dining hall to grab a muffin and coffee then head to our first class Monday morning. Fenn hasn’t stopped giving me shit about turning down invites over the weekend. He keeps hounding me to make friends, but I don’t see the point. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t associate with these people, and vice versa. Why pretend otherwise?
While we walk, Fenn gets a text, grinning at his phone before showing it to me. “See that? This is what I’m talking about.”
I take a quick look. It’s a headless girl in a burgundy school uniform flashing an upshot of some under boob.
“A friend of yours?” I ask in amusement.
“For a night. But I don’t do seconds.”
Shrugging, he deletes the text and shoves his phone back in his pocket. I do hope those tits find their Prince Charming someday.
“So if you’re not some sick niche porn addict, what are you doing on that computer all day?” he asks, still sounding frustrated by my total disinterest in hanging out with him, his friends, and his random nudes-sending townie chicks.
“Research,” I answer vaguely.
Lots of guys nod and say hi to Fenn as we cross campus toward class. Clearly he’s considered popular in this tiny, privileged bubble. Me, I’ve never had much use for the cool kids and their admirers. I can’t think of much else more embarrassing than high school hero-worship.
“Research for what?”
“Personal projects.”
“Ooh,” he says, mocking me. “How mysterious. What, are you selling organs on the black market? Running a shady crypto empire?”
“Sure, if you like.”
“You’re really going to keep secrets? From your own brother?” he says, feigning outrage.
I just shrug, hiding a grin. Truth is, secrets are my superpower. And while he’s been nagging me about going out and getting to know each other, I’ve been learning everything I need to know about my new stepbrother and the other inhabitants of Sandover Prep.
It took me no time at all to hack Fenn’s Sandover transcripts and have a look in his DMs. He sure spends a lot of time talking to that Casey chick. And it’s like he’s two different people. There’s some downright raunchy shit in there with random hookup chicks, and then he and Casey are talking about TikTok musicals or some dumb thing. If he’s playing a long con on her, it seems like a ton of effort for minimal reward. I’m almost tempted to warn the poor girl. She seems sweet. But I’m not about to get that involved in someone else’s life.