A crash against the wooden surface of Mr. Donati’s desk has me jumping in my seat before his voice follows. “Listen up, students, when you’re in my class,” Mr. Donati says with his seething gaze locked on me, slamming me right to the back of the chair. “I want your focus on me. On the blackboard. Not on your phone. Not on your friends. Am I understood?” He poses the question to the class, but he doesn’t look away.
“Yes, sir,” I find myself responding as if he were shouting. I don’t even have my phone. Auntie Midge said to leave it at home so I can focus on my first day. Thankfully, I listened to her.
“Now, when you think about history, I know most of you consider it old bullshit you don’t want to know about,” he informs us, earning a few gasps and sniggers from the students. I’m shocked as well. I’ve never had a teacher who was so open about cursing in his class. “For those who are new to my class, I run a tight ship, and I expect you to put the work in, but I do want you to learn when you’re in this room.”
One of the girls a few desks over raises her hand. And for a moment, I think he’s going to ignore her, but instead, he nods toward her.
“I’d like to know if you’re single, Mr. Donati,” she muses, a grin plastered on her face. Her long, blonde hair is pinned in a ponytail, and her perfectly manicured hands are folded on the desk as if she didn’t just flirt with our teacher.
“My personal life has nothing to do with any of you,” Donati bites out. He doesn’t seem perturbed by her question, and I wonder briefly if he’s had students coming on to him before.
“It’s a shame. I may need a date for the prom,” blondie tells him, teasing a pen over her plump, glossy lips. The rest of the class laughs, but I don’t. My fingers tighten around my pen, and my stomach drops at the thought of him with her. She’s the type of girl he’d go for if he were so inclined. She’s gorgeous with a perfect figure, and she looks like she could be a runway model.
Whereas I try to play coy, unless there’s someone I want to impress. Or catch the attention of. I’ve spent my life being the center of attention, especially when it comes to guys. Most girls back home would call me a slut, and they did, for a long while. Where I’m from, shaming women for being into sex is one insult the girls loved to throw around if you weren’t shy to dress up.
But right now, I’m thankful that we have to wear this god-awful uniform because I dressed it up—black skirt, the white shirt which fits a little too tight shows off the black bra I’m wearing underneath. The unwelcome noose of a tie which chokes me, along with the blazer sporting the school crest on the breast pocket. At least nobody truly stands out too much, and nobody can assume you’re trying to get attention, unless you’re me where I’ve intentionally shortened the skirt from the frumpy length to mid-thigh.
“When you’re in my class, you will respect me. You will also focus on your schoolwork. So, Miss …?” he says, looking directly at blondie as he waits for her to tell him her name.
“Oh, it’s Melody Vanderbilt,” she tells him. “But you can call me Melody, sir.” Her tone lowers into a seductive purr at the word sir. But with a glance at Mr. Donati, he doesn’t seem at all affected.
“Miss Vanderbilt, I trust you’ll behave in my class. If not, you’re welcome to visit the principal’s office.” The cold tone of his voice sends a shiver down my spine, causing me to tremble. “And that goes for anyone else in my class. Here, we learn to be professional, to ensure that when we step out of this class into the big, shitty world beyond, we know how to conduct ourselves.”
His gaze once again roves over the class, and I hold my breath. I can’t explain it, but I want his eyes on me. I’m sorely disappointed when he doesn’t even look my way. It’s stupid. I feel like a child, crushing on a man way out of my league.
But that’s never stopped me before.
And I have a feeling Mr. Donati will become my new favorite teacher.
The sinking sun is still warm as I make my way home from my first day of school. Walking up the street from Black Mountain Academy in my short skirt and knee-high leggings causes attention to skitter my way. Ignoring the stares, the whispers, and the snickers from the other students, I make my way up the road.
I haven’t been the new girl before, and it’s uncomfortable. Everyone seems to speak in hushed tones when I walk past as I head up the hill toward the road which will take me to my aunt’s multi-million-dollar mansion.
I grew up around wealth and false promises that were made to show off how perfect my family was. Nothing lasts forever—either it’s taken from you, or you die. Either way, I’m no longer holding onto hope, and I’m certainly not believing of people who offer promises and bullshit wrapped up in a neat little bow.
Overnight, my life was flipped on its head when the cop cars pulled up to the house and they raided the party. I shouldn’t have been there, but I was. Caught on camera by a paparazzi asshole with my panties in hand, sandwiched between two of my best guy friends. It looked worse than it was.
I stop for a moment to take in the academy from my viewpoint. It’s an impressive building
