What would he do if I just grabbed it and downed it? Nothing?
“So,” my uncle seethed. “They already fucking know you were caught with your hand up a teacher’s skirt! Who did you tell about Ms. Glenburg, Isaiah?”
My mouth opened slightly in shock. There was a dip in my cool facade that I wore like a second skin. My uncle interrupted my thoughts, slapping his hands down onto his desk in his usual frustrated manner. “Did you tell the rest of your alpha pack?” His face scrunched as if he was fed up with the entire situation. That made two of us. “The Rebel Boys?”
“It’s just the Rebels,” I clarified.
The group was born long ago—before I or my uncle attended here. It was a century-old society set within the t
hick, damp walls of this dark boarding school, originating from the Latin word, Rebellis. The history behind the group was that there needed to be order within the students. The students that came here in the far past were from two separate upbringings. Split right in half. Some were orphans—sent from an orphanage a few blocks over with no one to answer to and with no one to teach them right from wrong. The others were descendants from parents who did illegal shit but who were also prestigious in the outside world. It was still like that—with the students, I mean. I fell into the latter of the group. My last name was well-known. My family was wealthy, and we were considered high society. But that didn’t mean we were good. My father was a piece of shit. He dabbled in crime behind the scenes of his business investments and charitable dues. His bad side was elusive to many.
The walls of St. Mary’s were secure, though, like a completely different civilization breathed here rather than in the real world where there was true crime and death. The Rebels, at least a century ago, were the ones who ruled the school, set forth rules, and kept others in line, all while causing havoc in their own way. It wasn’t like that anymore. It was more or less a myth. The group had been dormant until Brantley, Cade and I came here. Our other friend, Shiner, knew all about the Rebels and their…traditions…and that was when the elite group had started up again.
And as the story stated in the old journal that we’d found, the Rebels changed and evolved over the years with the different generations. One group was like a family evolving, branching the students together like a giant tree. But others were more like a hierarchy. I’d like to think the current group of Rebels, the one I was a part of—which consisted of me, Brantley, Cade, and Shiner—was a mix of the two. Again, we were more of a myth, a fraternity of sorts, but for some reason, students still came to us if there was a problem. And we definitely ate up the fame because with fame came perks, and the perks were always hot.
My uncle’s voice rang out, “That’s right. The Rebels. Tell me, does Nash know what you, Cade, and Brantley know?”
My jaw flexed. “You know Shiner doesn’t go by Nash anymore.” He hated his first name. “And no, he doesn’t.” My jaw ticked again. “And to answer your question, I didn’t tell the boys.”
Yet.
It wasn’t that I planned to keep Ms. Glenburg a secret. I meant to tell the Rebels at some point, but if the SMC was as close to expelling me as my uncle said, then they’d likely cut me for good if they knew what had happened with me and Ms. Glenburg. I wanted to be on full lock-down when I spilled the dirty details, so there wasn’t a chance of loose ears lingering around.
Uncle Tate pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, the SMC knows, and I’m almost certain they will be going above me to call your father.” He sighed. “They are far beyond believing my excuses for you. I can’t be your alibi any longer.”
I swallowed roughly, a roll of anger flying down each and every vertebra in my spine.
My eyes locked with his, and we stayed like that until I broke the dense silence. “So, what are you saying? They’re expelling me? And then Dad will come up here to personally throw me into the Covens to control me even more? He won’t let that happen. He needs me here.”
There was once a time where I would have done anything to make my father proud. Now, though, it was the complete opposite.
My uncle’s face dropped for a moment, guilt covering each and every woven line on his forehead. “I—I don’t know. Just”—he took a moment before he glanced up at me—“get your shit together. I’ll call your father in a few and figure out what’s going on and see if he knows anything. I’ll deal with the committee and do everything I can to keep you here. You need to make better choices, though.” The lines of his face sharpened. “I’m being completely serious, Isaiah. You’re going to need to get your grades up. Stop fucking around. For the love of God, get an alibi—someone who can collaborate your excuses—and stop getting caught doing shit. I want you to have your freedom here, because God knows you’ve never had it before, but there’s only so much I can do for you.”
A heavy feeling weighed on my chest because I could sense the urgency in his voice. I could feel the trickle of fear in the back of my head when I thought of my father and how he’d react if I was expelled. If I didn’t stop rebelling, if I told him that I wouldn't be following in his footsteps, that I’d be taking the high road like Jacobi did...fuck. I wasn’t afraid for myself. I was afraid for Jack.
“Okay,” I finally said, and my uncle’s head snapped up, shocked.
I was shocked too, but when it came to Jack, things hit a little differently. There was a miniscule part of me that felt something when it came to him. A slight opening in my numbness.
“I have it under control,” I said, climbing to my feet.
His head tilted, and the shadows from the dim light on the edge of his desk clearly showed his skepticism.
“I don’t even want to know. Just…” He glanced away. “Figure out what path you’re going down, and stick to it. Yeah?”
I nodded, going toward the door, feeling all sorts of fucked up. Not only from the conversation with Uncle Tate but also from wondering how the hell the SMC could have known about me seducing—definitely using that word lightly here—Ms. Glenburg.
The only two people who knew, other than me and Ms. Glenburg herself, were the janitor and my uncle. And I knew that Mr. Clark hadn’t told anyone. He and my uncle went way back. Mr. Clark knew more about my family than anyone else at this school. In fact, he had turned his head many times at my questionable behavior. Hell, he’d even helped me sneak back into the school after I’d left to be my father’s errand boy in the middle of the night.
Then, it clicked.
There was one other person who could have known.
It didn’t hit me until I walked into the dining hall for breakfast, after Brantley and Cade continued to prod me about the gossip on the stupid fucking blog that couldn’t seem to talk about anything else other than me and the rest of the Rebels. Honestly, whoever filled their time with writing for the thing was desperate for my dick. Let’s just put it that way. But that was when I saw her.
She was a little ray of sunshine sitting there at the table with Sloane. She stood out contrastingly compared to everyone else. Fucking gorgeous, pure, all things good—but there was something dark about her too. I wasn’t sure if it was her features, where her skin was smooth and porcelain-like, completely flawless and angelic, but her eyes were sharp and vivid. They struck you when they latched on. Then, there was yesterday when she bit out a response to me but also blushed and clammed up afterwards. She was split down the middle. Soft but hard, light but dark. Looking at Gemma was like breathing in fresh air…but with black, murky lungs.
It was her, though.