“What do you mean?” Jared asked, laughing.
“Oh, his parents have always spoiled him, so he got all of the toys all of us wanted when we were little. He got a red bike when we were about seven, I think, and I cried to my mom for a week solid until she got me one too.”
“You little brat.” Jared poked his finger at Adam’s ribs, making him squirm.
“He was the first of us to get his driver’s license, the first one to sneak us booze, then weed, then coke.”
“I’m sure he’s been a great influence on you,” Jared said drily.
Adam laughed. “I suppose you could see it like that. He’s always been there for me. He’s like the brother I never had, you know?”
“Yeah.”
“I know people look at us and wonder what either of us get out of this.”
“Your friendship?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re so different. I guess that matters to some people.”
“People suck,” Jared said philosophically.
“Wallace won’t ever fit in in this town. His family isn’t like mine—Hemlocks have been going to Harbor Academy pretty much since it opened, and he’s the first person from his family to go there.”
“Does that even matter?”
“Here it does,” Adam said, stretching his arms over his head, revealing soft tufts of dark hair under them.
“That’s stupid.”
“I know,” Adam said lightly. “Doesn’t make it less real, though. I spent a lot of time with my mom in Paris over the summer and she made me think about Chris a lot. Like… whether he’s really a friend, or just some hangover from childhood. A metaphorical stuffed animal I was scared to throw away.” He laughed. “My mom likes metaphors.”
He reached down and rubbed his hands up and down Jared’s thighs. “He’s not, though, you know,” Adam continued. “He’s this one constant in my life. He gets it.”
“Gets what?”
“The revolving door of bitches and hoes and backstabbing cunts in this town.”
Jared laughed.
“And that’s just the guys,” Adam said with a dramatic sigh.
“You don’t think much of them, do you?”
“Who, the Academy kids? Fuck, no. I mean, there’s a few of them I can actually stand for more than five minutes at a time. You don’t really have to look hard to see who that is.”
“I get that,” Jared said, catching Adam’s wrists as he tried to push his hands into the waistband of Jared’s pajama pants. “What about next year?”
“What about it?”
“Are you going to go to the same college?”
“Probably not. That doesn’t matter to me. Chris is my brother.”
“Y’all have one fucked-up family,” Jared said, teasing.
“Preach, sister.”
“I like Chris a lot.”
“It’s hard to not like Chris,” Adam said.
“So, what’s with his family? His real family, not the brother-from-another-mother deal you both have going on.”
Adam snorted with amusement. “He had some grandpa leave him a ton of money. Chris is the eldest child, and he’s only got sisters younger than him. Apparently a big chunk of the inheritance was put aside for his education, so the only way Chris could get at it was to go to a good school and a good college.”
“Come on. His family isn’t loaded in the same way other folks are around here, though.”
“Naw. Not everyone in this town is rolling in it, you know.” Adam sounded amused and ran his hands over Jared’s legs again. “Who do you think works in Starbucks? Or cleans our enormous houses?”
Jared huffed a laugh. “I suppose so.”
“Not that Chris’s mom is a cleaner. She works in insurance, I think.”
Jared still didn’t get the friendship, not really, but he let the subject drop. It didn’t matter how long he stayed in New Harbor, he was never going to understand the history of all the families here. Plus, he had Adam pinned beneath his strong thighs, and there were far better things for them to be doing than simply talking.
Chapter 7
Parties on the weekend or not, school still happened on Monday morning. And party people or not, they were expected to show up with their homework. Jared had stayed up late again on Sunday, his hangover a distant memory, desperately trying to finish all his assignments for the week ahead. He wasn’t sure how the other kids managed to throw massive parties and still get the best grades in the school, have social lives, and go shopping and out to dinner and on vacation every other weekend. Maybe it was a learned thing, something he’d missed out on growing up between Michigan and Texas. Maybe someone else completed their assignments for them. Either way, Jared was behind.
By Monday he was tired, not so much that he was unproductive, just feeling the early start and a certain inability to function. It would go by lunch, he was sure, but the rain-streaked glass in homeroom provided the perfect window to daydream through.
The bell rang, and Jared rolled lazily to his feet, only to be stopped by Ms. Bowen as he headed for the door.
“Do you have a moment, Mr. Rawell?” she said in a low voice.
“I sorta have to get to class,” he said, vaguely gesturing but knowing already it was useless. He waited for the room to empty, then sat in the desk opposite hers.
“It has been brought to my attention that your grades have… suffered somewhat in the past year,” Bowen said. Jared guessed she was trying to be tactful.
“Am I failing already?”
“No. Most of your teachers have reported that you’re bright and intelligent. However, a year spent in a less rigorous academic environment has set you back and the work you’re turning in is notably below the standard we expect of students here.” Bowen sat back and folded her hands. “We want you to succeed, Jared, which is why I’m bringing this to your attention this early in the academic year. If you want to graduate with the rest of the class, I suggest you consider a private tutor.”
Jared nodded. “I don’t think my father is going to like that much.”
“I could contact him on your behalf?”
“No. No,
