With tired eyes, Jared plotted the route from one class to the next, forcing the journeys into his memory so by his second day at school, he’d be able to walk around like he’d always been there. Jared already knew that if he showed one ounce of vulnerability, the vultures around here would eat him alive.
Chapter 3
The next morning, Jared walked into his homeroom class two minutes before the bell rang. That was a tactical move.
The room was almost half-full, and he made his way through the desks, stopping at the third row from the back. There was a girl with pale hair and glasses sitting at one of the desks.
“Is it assigned seating in here?” he asked.
She blushed and ducked her head. “No. You can sit wherever.”
Jared nodded. “Thanks.”
He continued on to the back row, where there was one seat left. Right next to Clare.
“Morning,” he said with a nod.
Clare looked up, met his eyes, then went back to filing her nails. “Well observed,” she said drily.
Ignoring her, Jared slipped into the available seat and leaned back until the chair tipped up on its back two legs, pulling his phone from his pocket. With time to kill, he played Candy Crush until the sunlight spilling in through the window was blocked by someone large.
Jared looked up and grinned at Chris. He looked vaguely ridiculous in the uniform they all had to wear, his tie appearing almost noose-like around his thick neck.
“Yo, you’re in my seat, homie,” Chris said, his voice a thick drawl.
Jared let the chair fall back to all fours with a thunk. “You wanna sit on my lap, Big Poppa?” he said with a smirk.
Chris laughed, but there was a definite edge to his pose. Jared had ruffled him.
“Take a seat, Mr. Wallace,” Bowen said from the front of the room.
Jared rolled lazily to his feet and inclined his head with his hand on his chest, a respectful bow. Clare observed the entire exchange with interest. She obviously knew it was Chris’s seat and had let Jared sit down anyway. Probably so she could watch how it would play out.
By this time the class was full, or near enough, and the only seats free were at the front of the room. Jared tossed his bag over his shoulder and took a window seat, leaving Adam’s seat next to the door free. Adam slid into it as the bell finished ringing.
After the events of the day before, Jared had decided the only way he was going to survive this school was to play the game. He wasn’t sure yet what the rules were, or even who was playing, but losing was not an option. While Adam was surely going to be a very attractive distraction, Jared knew he was going to have to focus on more than just his calculus class.
Things were about to get interesting, and Jared had every intention of shaking it up.
“Military school, eh? Guess you’re good at sports, then, Mr. Rawell.”
Jared rolled his eyes. The gym teacher, whose name he hadn’t bothered to remember, was a walking cliché, right out of the cast of a Fox teen drama. Overweight, balding, clearly had absolutely no control whatsoever over the group of seniors who were lounging around the gym doing what appeared to be whatever the fuck they wanted.
“Sure,” Jared said. Bored. He was bored.
“What do you play, then?”
“Lacrosse, soccer, field hockey, and basketball, if I’m forced to,” he said evenly. “Put me on a football field, and I’ll run the wrong way. On purpose.”
Coach regarded Jared closely, his expression unreadable.
“Look, can I just go work out, please? I’m out of shape.”
“Sure,” Coach said. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Mr. Rawell.”
The gym was better equipped than most fee-charging places Jared had been to. The cardio kit was shiny and brand new, by the looks of it. All the girls in the class were currently on a line of treadmills, their headphones plugged into the TV screens that were tuned in to Gossip Girl or some shit.
It was like an invisible line had been drawn across the room: girls on one side, on the treadmills and ellipticals, and boys on the other with the weights. There was clearly some macho pissing contest going on to see who could lift the most weight.
After taking a look around, Jared muttered “fuck this” and crossed the invisible line to the girls’ side of the gym.
Clare and Mia weren’t in this class, but Ryder was, so Jared hopped onto the treadmill next to hers. Ryder’s dark eyes widened comically, and she almost fell out of step.
“What are you doing?” she hissed at him.
“Um, running,” Jared said. He immediately set a fairly quick pace and, while jogging, plugged his earbuds into his phone to play music.
“Boys don’t usually come over here.”
“No shit.”
“You’re strange,” Ryder said, and Jared slowed enough to answer her.
“I’m a lot of things, Ryder. I’m gay. I’m tall. I’m an avid reader of gay pulp fiction and eighteenth-century French literature. And yes, I’m probably strange, too.”
“Don’t you care what people think?”
Jared shook his head, pushed his earbuds into his ears and turned the speed up on the machine. “What people think means exactly shit to me,” Jared said, content that his music would drown out her reply.
He covered five miles at a decent pace, then slowed down and accepted a bottle of water from the girl on his right, chugging deeply and nodding his thanks. This period led straight into lunch, so even after the bell rang to signal the end of the hour, Jared stayed, wanting to push himself a little further.
The girls disappeared into their locker room, and Jared thought he’d been left alone until someone hopped onto the machine Ryder had just vacated. It almost made Jared jump, but he forced his reactions down and looked over.
Great. Hemlock.
Jared nodded and
