Good Girls Never Rise: A Dark Boarding School Romance

Which only made me hate him more.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Gemma

After spending most of my day in the art room, I was feeling better than before. The week had been interesting. I was finally getting in the groove of my classes and finding myself more relaxed than ever with Sloane and Mercedes, whereas before, I was a little nervous to be hanging out with them in fear that I’d act too suspicious or say the wrong thing, but things were becoming easier for me. Everything seemed to be looking up, except for my tutoring sessions with Isaiah, which were nothing more than a nerve-wracking ending to my day.

I wasn’t afraid to be around him, but I found myself glancing up at him every few minutes as we’d work silently in a room that seemed to have an even eerier feel since Tuesday night. I was also a little perturbed with myself, because even though I was half-angry with him that he still hadn’t given me any information on Bain and the vague threats or even answer my question about who was in the library that night with Cade, I still found my breath faltering when we’d lock eyes for the briefest of seconds. It lit me on fire each and every time, and then after I cooled down, I would berate myself for even looking up in the first place.

It was maddening.

He was maddening, and I didn’t even think he meant to be. It was just my body’s reaction to him. I kept blaming it on curiosity that came with never being alone with a boy, or feeling hands on me that belonged versus hands on me that were forced, but whatever it was, I couldn't seem to get it to stop. The thoughts that were put into my head like tiny little seeds were fed and watered by Isaiah’s icy eyes and perfect, arrogant mouth. I couldn’t avoid him—or the wicked thoughts that made my skin itch.

And tonight, there was another claiming party that Sloane and Mercedes were dragging me to—something that Isaiah was well aware of. It was made known at the breakfast table yesterday morning when Sloane had very loudly demanded that I go. Even despite the whole incident that happened last time, she wouldn’t hear of me staying in our room. Once it was decided that I’d go, which I really only agreed to because she was making such a scene, Isaiah’s gaze slid right to mine and then ripped right past me, as if he were looking at someone from afar.

“I can’t believe Isaiah gave you a phone.” Sloane was doing her makeup in the bathroom, but she’d kept the door open so Mercedes and I could still chat with her.

“That is really odd.” Mercedes glanced up before looking back at her nails that she was painting red polish onto. “Why did he even get you a phone? Don’t you have one already?”

Unease settled in. I really liked Mercedes and Sloane, and I truly did hate that I was keeping them in the dark, because what a contradiction that was. But in order to keep things in line, I had to evade the truth some. “Yeah, well…” I glanced away, unable to look either of them in the eye. “He wanted to be able to get a hold of me about our tutoring sessions. Sometimes he runs late because of lacrosse and...” The hole in my chest was getting bigger as I forced a little bit of the truth out. “My uncle is pretty strict, and he checks my phone records. He wouldn’t be happy about me texting someone that he had never met—especially if it were someone like Isaiah.” That was definitely putting it mildly.

Mercedes let out a loud laugh. “My dad would lose his shit if he knew I was even talking about Isaiah. My father doesn’t even want me to look in his direction.”

“Isn’t your dad on the SMC?” I asked as she glanced back at her nails.

She blew out a breath, her blush-covered cheeks puffing. “Yep, so he really doesn’t like Isaiah since he knows of everything that he’s done.” A light laugh left her. “Well…the things he’s been caught for.”

There was a question at the tip of my tongue that caused it to burn. “Why are you at St. Mary’s, Mercedes?”

Sloane was sent here because her parents were in the military and deployed often, but I wasn’t sure why Mercedes was. She was nice. Really nice. And if her parents were on the SMC, that meant that she actually had parents, and well…something didn’t quite add up. Sloane said everyone at St. Mary’s was a little messed up, but I didn’t get that from Mercedes. I didn’t really get that from Sloane, either. But then again, did people get that from me?

“Because Mercedes’ parents want her to get into Harvard or some ritzy school like that.”

I shifted on the bed. “And you can get into one of those schools by going here?”

Mercedes shrugged. “St. Mary’s has an excellent reputation for getting students into the Ivy Leagues—or at least a well-credited college. It was the closest high-end school to my hometown, so they decided to send me here instead of allowing me to

attend regular high school with fewer chances at getting a good education. Or so they say.”

I began picking at the threads on my blanket. “So, St. Mary’s is considered to be a high-end school?” I thought back to Wellington Prep. It was absolutely the type of school that could get you into an Ivy League college—or at least that was what mostly everyone had talked about when I attended for those brief two months. The curriculum there was on-par with what it was here, but of course, nothing like what Auntie used to make me do.

Sloane laughed. “I’d say so. It’s expensive to go here if you’re not on a scholarship. My parents had the same thought that Mercedes’ did. It is one of the only boarding schools in the nation that produces Ivy-League-destined graduates, even despite some of our shitty upbringings. It’s like the SMC thought we had nothing else to do but study, so they made the coursework hard as shit.” She rolled her eyes at the last part of her sentence but quickly changed her tune as she gave me a pointed look.

“I have a question for you, Gemma.”

My attention bounced to Mercedes and then back to Sloane, my fingers now basically tearing the blanket apart. “Okay?”

“Where do you keep sneaking off to in the middle of the night?”

My heart halted as my fingers stilled.

Mercedes’ voice squeaked. “She’s sneaking off? What? To where?”

“Is it to see Isaiah?”

I sucked in a breath, sitting up taller. “What? No!”

“Is that why he’s always looking at her?” I snapped my attention back over to Mercedes. Wait, what? When does he do that?