Good Girls Never Rise: A Dark Boarding School Romance

I slowly swung my attention to Sloane, who had her lips pursed together in my direction, waiting for my answer. Her eyebrow suddenly cocked upward, and I appreciated how she didn’t bat her eyelashes at me. Sloane had been attending St. Mary’s since the time I had, so I knew her pretty well, but we’d never been alone in a closet together. She had never thrown herself at me like the rest of the female population, and I’d never pursued her because I didn’t need to pursue anyone, really.

I kept my gaze trained on Sloane even though I wanted to look at Gemma in the most agonizing way. “Sloane, did Gemma tell you about Ms. Glenburg?”

Everything around me ceased to exist as I kept staring down into Sloane’s hazel eyes. This was something that my father had instilled in me long, long ago: how to read people. Their mannerisms, their breathing, their eyes. I’d watch and then decipher the next words that came out of their mouth very closely. It was a quality that my father needed in his line of business, I supposed—and fuck him, but he taught me well. I could see through someone as if they were water in a glass cup.

The skin around Sloane’s eyes wrinkled as she threw her hands up. “What? What about Ms. Glenburg?”

She looked to Gemma, who had kept her face expressionless, and then back to me. “Stop trying to change the subject, Isaiah. You may be considered the top dog at this school, but you need to fix this for Gemma until—”

“Until what?” I inquired, suddenly even more interested.

“Nothing,” Gemma snapped at me. Her soft and hesitant expression morphed to anger as she locked onto me, and I felt a flame blaze within. “Let’s just go, Sloane.”

I didn’t want her to go, but just like that, Gemma had turned her back on all of us and began walking down the grassy hill toward St. Mary’s. My eyes trailed after her, following the smoke from the fire brewing inside of her.

Sloane narrowed her gaze on me. “Seriously, Isaiah. Not everyone likes attention. I know that’s hard for you Rebels to understand, but figure out a way to get her out of the spotlight before she gets in trouble.” Then, she growled at me like a rabid dog before ruffling her black hair in her hands with frustration. “Oh. And Gemma didn’t tell anyone about you and that teacher, whoever it was. She had only talked to me that night, and she didn’t say a word.”

I assumed as much, since there wasn’t even a flicker of recognition on Sloane’s face when I mentioned Ms. Glenburg a few seconds ago. Thankfully, the blog didn’t release any names, likely because they didn’t even know who it was. Teachers came and went at our school often—probably because of students like me who liked to cause trouble. Oops.

Before Sloane followed Gemma, who was already down to the side door of St. Mary’s, I asked, “Why would she get in trouble?”

“Just never mind. Get it taken care of. I’m done with letting my friends get walked all over by Rebels.” Sloane shifted her attention to Cade briefly before whipping around and running after Gemma.

I turned to see Cade’s face fall.

“Did she know...?” I asked, not wanting to dive too much further into choppy waters with his situation.

He pushed off the fence, sighing. “Probably. She and Journey were close. They were roommates.” Then, he shook his sweaty blond hair out. “But Sloane is right. Not everyone likes attention, even if we thought she deserved some payback.”

I heard Shiner in the distance as he walked beside Cade. “I like the attention.”

Cade grunted, “Shut up.”

Finally pushing myself off the fence and taking my eyes away from the door that Gemma had disappeared into, I realized the validity in Sloane’s statement. Not everyone liked attention, and even glancing at Gemma brought attention.

Chapter Eleven

Gemma

“There’s a party tonight, and we’re going.”

Well, with a statement like that... I warily looked over at Sloane who was shoving an Italian sub into her mouth. The dining hall was open pretty much all day on the weekends and didn’t close until curfew, which was 9:00 on Friday and Saturday. On Sunday, it went back to normal hours: curfew at 7:00 and no later.

Still gripping my cell phone in my hand, waiting for Richard to grace me with his nightmare of a voice, I began picking at the fruit salad on my plate and glanced down to a few other girls that Sloane had introduced me to last night before lights out.

“I can’t,” I whispered, feeling uncomfortable.

“Why?” one of the girls asked. Peeking up through a few strands of my hair, I saw that it was Mercedes, one of the girls I met last night. She lived just across the hall.

I shifted in my seat, unsure of how to answer the question. I’d never been in this situation before, sitting with other girls my age, having small talk about a party that was going on later in the evening. It was nice, don’t get me wrong. I’d thought of this exact moment and played it out in my head every night when I’d get home from Wellington Prep. I’d watch the girls during lunch, listen to their easy conversations, and wonder if I’d ever get that. And now that I was kind of living that dream and enjoying it, I knew it wouldn’t last forever. None of this would. But I still wanted it.

“Um…” I started.

Sloane placed her sub back down on her tray before wiping her fingers on a napkin. She swiped at a few stray crumbs stuck to her black shirt before taking her hands and placing them on my forearms, squeezing lightly. “Listen, I know you said your uncle is strict, but there is no way he will find out that you went to a party. I mean, we’re locked away in a boarding school, Gem.”

I lowered my head, not wanting anyone else to hear me. “But my uncle knows Headmaster Ellison. What if he catches us and then tells him?”

Mercedes giggled. “Trust us when we say the headmaster won’t tell your uncle. He knows so much stuff about me”—she glanced around the dining hall as if she were looking for someone in particular—“and he has yet to tell my parents, who, by the way, are on the committee.”