A Rose to Keep (The Society 1)

No punishments were ever given. No one could prove what drove the girl to breaking down. She didn’t belong, and most people here made sure she knew it. I didn’t play into their games. Another reason I was well and truly hated.

We walked into my building, and I got my key ready, going into my room on the second floor. It was like a mini apartment. There was a sitting room, bedroom, small bathroom, and even a tiny kitchen. It was the only part of this academy experience I liked. This school had everything, including a gym as well as a pool for anyone to use providing they alerted someone to their being there.

As per my parents’ request, everything was put away for me. My clothes were neatly folded in drawers. My wardrobe full of cute little outfits because they wanted me to have a social life here.

Not happening.

I stuck to the school uniform most of the time. The small skirts were offensive. I often wore mine with tights. The pristine white shirts for the female uniform were also sheer, so most of the time, bras or lack of them could be seen. Again, a nice crop top underneath took care of that.

The school colors were a dark-forest green and gold. There had to be gold somewhere.

“What are you talking about?”

“The selection!”

“Oh, please, give me a break. That stuff cannot be real.”

Every senior year, the main four Saintly Devils picked one female from the year to belong to them. There was so much rumor and gossip about this. Personally, I didn’t believe it. One girl belonged to four guys, and they could do whatever the hell they wanted with her. She was theirs in every single sense of the word, but it also made her off-limits to everyone else. If someone so much as looked at her, they were screwed. She was highly protected. There were a lot of members of the Saintly Devils, also referred to as the Hot Devils or the Dirty Devils. They were four of the wealthiest guys in each year. From the moment they stepped foot into this school, Gideon Flores, William Martin, Mateo Robinson, and Dante Jones were the Saintly Devils. The strongest, hardest, most egotistical people I’d ever had the misfortune to meet. They were assholes.

I couldn’t stand them. Let’s start with Gideon. He was flawless. Tall, muscular, the kind of guy who knew he was hot, and the girls just fell into line. Short black hair that never looked greasy or unkempt. I couldn’t imagine for a second him getting out of bed and not looking perfect. The guy screamed it. Then, of course, he had pretty blue eyes. At times, they seemed to be as cold as the ocean near the poles, sharp, almost as if you got too close they’d strike you down. Yeah, I had seen him, but that didn’t mean I liked everything I saw.

William was a different guy from the rest of them. I thought of him as the playful one. The jokester. In class, he was always driving teachers crazy with his need to not take life seriously. I didn’t know how he fit in with the other three. I was guessing he helped to balance them all out. Brown hair, slightly longer, and often looking windswept, like he constantly ran his fingers through it. Green eyes, but I didn’t know how green. Like an emerald, but not as bright.

Bringing me to Mateo. I liked his name, and he was the blond-haired of the group. Slightly longer hair as well, but not enough to put it into a ponytail. I wondered if this was his rebellion of being the perfectly kept son. The out-of-place hair, the attitude, it all called to a guy trying to find his place in the world. Like Gideon and William, his body was rock-solid. The school uniform’s blazer was a little tight across his arms and shoulders, showing the expanse of his build.

Last but not least, Dante, the seemingly quiet one of the group. More often than not, I saw him scribbling away in his notebook. The artist or the tortured soul of All Saints. I wanted to snort at the title. It was laughable. As if this guy could be tortured. For three years, I’d seen girls throw themselves at him as if he was some kind of trophy. Brown hair, slightly darker than mine, brown eyes, and he often had smudged fingers from using pencils. I didn’t know why I’d noticed that about him, I just had.

“It is,” Heather said. “I researched this, and there are pictures all over social media of every girl who was chosen being seen with them. It happens.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, if the rumors are true, it’s going to be Chloe. They only pick the hot, popular ones. I think you should get picked.”