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  I wasn’t interested in getting pulled into the various social circles here. Emily had been the only reasonable person whom I had met at this school, and now she was gone. It was like having to live in the darkness, finally finding a light, then having it stomped out after a few minutes. I hated Bayside even more after that happened.

  I hurried down the cheaply made hallway toward my next class. I would have to be faster going this way because it was much longer. Bayside was a fairly large school, housing several states worth of criminal young adults who hadn’t finished high school. When you get caught up in the legal system, it makes it kind of difficult to do that. Everyone here was between 18 and 20 years old, including me.

  I finally arrived at my class, just a few seconds before the lecture started. I slipped into an unoccupied metal chair at the front of the classroom, one of the only ones free, and pulled out my notebook and pen. I was one of the only students at this school who took notes. Most people couldn’t be bothered to look at the teacher during class.

  The back rows of the classroom were mainly reserved for the people who would snap your neck if you took it from them. I had seen students fight over them before, but I never wanted to be back there. Sure, the teacher couldn’t see or hear you as well, but you’d also not be able to see or hear the teacher either. How could you finish school at Bayside if you flunked?

  I was starting to see the point in not paying attention, though. The more classes I went to, the more I realized how low quality the education I was receiving was. It was meant to get students up to a functional level, but nothing more. The standards were the lowest possible for a school catering to criminal youth. They weren’t interested in teaching you anything beyond the basics.

  I often wondered if the teachers were even qualified to teach. They dressed like prison guards and lectured us like they were reciting from a manual. Some of them even carried guns holstered on their hips, as though a student would lurch at then to attack during class. I had never seen it happen, but maybe the guns were the reason why I hadn’t.

  So, as I sat at the front of the class and began to write notes down in my thin spiral notebook, I let my mind wander from the lecture every so often. Trent had reminded me once again about Emily, and her untimely death. From everything I knew, it was a suicide, but the nibbling doubt in the back of my head wanted me to believe differently.

  After all, Emily never deserved the hand she had been dealt. She had opened up a lot to me in the short time that I had known her. Abusive foster homes, street life, and drugs had all pulled her toward a life that she was desperate to escape from. Bayside had been a step in the wrong direction, despite what the brochure said about it being a place of rehabilitation. Bayside Academy was a glorified prison, and nothing more.

  Emily wanted to escape from the life she was handed, but not like this. She had dreams and goals outside of Bayside, and it seemed so unreasonable for her to end her own life.

  Then again, she was depressed, and I knew it. Other people bullied her, and it made things so much worse. I knew it was suicide, but Trent’s suggestion otherwise brought back that glimmer of doubt that kept sitting in my head.

  I looked back up at the teacher, who was scribbling something with chalk on the board. I thought we were through using chalk in classrooms, but apparently not. Bayside wasn’t well funded, and it was glaringly obvious when I began to attend classes.

  I squinted. Fuck, even at the front of the classroom, I was having trouble seeing the board properly. I needed glasses, but bayside was strict about anything that could be sued as a weapon. Apparently, glasses fell into that category, so they provided their own. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing the thick, malleable plastic frames they provided.

  If I wanted to endure unbearable bullying, then I would wear those glasses. I would gain vision but lose everything else. It wasn’t worth it. Squinting would have to do for now.

  “Does anyone have any questions?” The teacher asked from the front of the room with a voice so dry you would have thought he was literally dying from boredom.

  Nobody answered, but I still wanted to know what he had written on the board. The letters were too small for me to see.

  I raised my hand.

  The teacher looked at me, giving me a smile that more closely resembled a grimace, and pointed at me to speak.

  “What’s that say on the board there?” I asked, pointing at the small words.

  He shook his head. “Not funny. Detention.”

  “What?” I asked, taken aback. That was a serious question. Did he think I was joking around?

  “Are you deaf too, ma’am? Detention. Go. Now,” he said, making a shoo motion toward the door.

  A few of the other students snickered as I gathered up my belongings, turning red in the face as I left. Even when I tried, things were getting worse. It was ridiculous that I was being sent to detention over not being able to see the board, but I was afraid to argue. The teacher would probably handcuff me and escort me to detention instead.

  I knew where the detention center was. There were bright red signs in the hallway pointing toward it. Getting sent to detention was a normal occurrence for the students here, and this wasn’t the first time for me. Right when I arrived, they had me escorted to detention over a jar of peanut butter in my bad. It was banned because of potential nut allergies, but I was never informed of this until I arrived at Bayside.

  I didn’t have an escort to detention this time, but the teacher probably assumed I would obey him. The punishment for skipping detention was solitary confinement, so most students didn’t risk it. This school was fucked up.

  Chapter 2

  I approached the sign-in desk for the detention center with my lips pursed. I stood awkwardly in front of the lady at the front until she acknowledged me.

  “Name?” She requested in a monotone voice.

  “Samantha Briar,” I answered.

  The woman typed it into her computer, the ancient tan keyboard clacking loudly with every keystroke. She looked up at me and squinted. “So, this isn’t your first time. I’m required to inform you that over three trips to detention in a month results in solitary confinement for two days.”

  Great. They had told me this the first time, but I had forgotten. I had better not get in trouble again this month, or I was screwed. Solitary was nothing to scoff at. I heard they didn’t even have beds in there.

  I nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

  She grunted, then looked back at her computer, pressing a few keys and then standing up from her seat. A keychain jingled on her hip as she retrieved the key to the detention cell. I followed her to the back of the lobby, where a large metal door separated the rest of the school from the detention area.

  Memories of my first day came flooding back as she turned the key and unlocked the door, ushering me into a sparsely populated room with nothing but a few metal tables and a single security camera mounted in the ceiling corner. This was where I had met Emily.

  “Samantha,” a deep voice said cheerfully as the metal door closed behind me.

  My heart sank when I heard the voice. It was Trent. I turned to see him walking toward me with outstretched arms, as though he intended to hug me. Gross. I took a step back as he came close to me.

  “What? No hugs?” He teased, putting his arms down.

  “Leave me alone,” I said, the realization that I would be spending the remainder of the day with him sinking in. I would have preferred solitary confinement over this. I was now in a psychological torture chamber with my worst enemy.

  “We are alone,” Trent replied, motioning behind himself at the two other people occupying the large room.

  “Technically not,” I corrected, growing tired of his antics.

  “Technically, I don’t give a fuck,” he replied. “I’ll get you alone eventually,” he said, raising his eyebrows a few rapid motions.

  “Not if I can help it,” I replied.

  “Too bad you can’t,” he said, h
is voice filled with glee. “Watch this.”

  Trent walked away, leaving me standing beside a cold metal table, somewhat curious as to what he was doing. There were only two other people in the room, and Trent heading straight for one of them.

  I sat down at the table and propped my head up with my hands, watching him as he approached a short, grumpy-looking young man who already seemed to be experiencing an alarming amount of hair loss. I guess the stress of Bayside was wearing him thin already.

  Trent leaned over to him and whispered something into his ear, shaking his head like he was saying something unfortunate. The short man suddenly turned his head to the other man in the room, a tall, skinny, blonde man with his hair thrown up in a bun. He looked pissed.

  Trent patted the man on the back, giving him a knowing look, then began to make his way back to me. He smiled at me triumphantly as he walked back toward me.

  The man behind Trent sprung into action when he left the table, rushing over to the blonde man who was minding his own business. He looked up, seemingly surprised that this short man was hurrying toward him angrily.

  “What did you say to him?” I asked Trent as he sat down at the table with me.

  “Nothing much,” he replied with a shrug.

  I watched in horror at the short man immediately threw a punch upon arriving at the tall man’s table. They began shouting and wrestling each other over the table, punching and kicking as though their lives depended on it. Perhaps it did, with the brutal way students fought here.

  Trent chuckled as the short man took a boot to his groin.

  The guards certainly took their time coming in to break up the fight. I had to watch the men bleed and bruise before anyone came to stop them from killing each other. Eventually, three guards came in to prevent permanent damage, but that wasn’t before they made a mess out of one another.

  “Holy shit,” I said as the guards dragged them out, undoubtedly taking them to solitary confinement.

  “I told you I would get you alone,” Trent said once the heavy metal door slammed shut.

  I looked around, finding that he was correct. There was nobody else left in here but us. For a brief moment, I considered starting a fight with him just to be dragged out too, but I thought better of it. That would likely have long-term consequences outside of detention. Trent might send his gang after me if I got physical with him.

  I sighed, putting my face in the palms of my hands. “What a nightmare,” I grumbled.

  “Hey, don’t be sad,” Trent replied mockingly, “You have me to keep you company.”

  “That’s exactly what I don’t need,” I countered.

  “Well, that’s what you have, so why don’t we talk?” he asked.

  I lifted my head, looking at his strikingly handsome face. It was so hard to be combative when I was staring right into his blue eyes. I would have thought he was innocent with eyes like those, but I knew the truth. He was terrible.

  “What brings you to Bayside?” he asked, cocking his head to the side and trying to sound casual.

  I didn’t want to tell him. He was probably sourcing information to use against me in the future. He wasn’t nice, and he couldn’t trick me into thinking that he was just trying to make conversation.

  “How about you tell me why you’re here first,” I said, tracing a finger along the small diamond-shaped holes in the table.

  Trent smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Sure,” he replied, probably happy that I had agreed to make conversation with him. “I broke into some old man’s house around three in the morning. You would think the bastard would be asleep by then, but apparently not. He took a few shots at me, and I barely escaped with my life. The cops picked me up half a mile from his house and took me in. The rest is history.”

  “Why did you want to rob an old man?” I asked.

  “They have more money, usually,” he said simply.

  “Yeah, but that money isn’t yours,” I replied, not approving of his behavior.

  “I don’t care,” he said. “I’d do it again if I had to.”

  “You don’t need to rob people, Trent. There are honest ways to make money.”

  He laughed. “Really? Do you mean like your rich parents giving it to you? Here’s something you might not realize. I don’t have rich parents. I have an alcoholic mother and a run-away dad,” he said, his voice growing bitter as he spoke.

  Touchy subject. I felt bad for him, but that didn’t justify robbing innocent people. Plus, I wasn’t as clueless as he made me out to be. I knew that people were struggling out there in the world without money. I was one of them now that my father had been sent to prison.

  “You’re not clever, talking like that to me. You don’t know my story,” I said.

  “You won’t tell me,” he said, shaking his head. “But then again, I’m not sure I actually care.”

  “Either way, you’re not getting it,” I said, crossing my arms.

  Trent stood up and walked around to my side of the table, sitting down uncomfortably close to me. He placed a large hand on my back. I shuddered as the warmth of his touch leaked through my blouse and stained my skin underneath with an awfully intense feeling. It wasn’t just a touch. His body communicated with mine.

  I pulled away slightly, but he didn’t remove his hand. Instead, he leaned in more, lowering his voice. “Samantha. You can’t run from me. You can’t hide the truth. I want to know everything about you,” he whispered, his voice smooth and deep.

  “Why?” I managed to ask, my voice cracking in the process. I didn’t know why, but I was afraid of his touch, for more reasons than how dangerous he was.

  “So that I can destroy you, darling,” he answered, his face breaking out in a crook grin.

  “I won’t let you do that,” I said quietly, unable to regain my composure just yet.

  “You will,” he said, leaning back. “You’ll do anything I say.”

  I could finally breathe once he got out of my personal space. The air had been intoxicating and too thick to breathe with him there. It felt risky to be that close to him. There was no telling what he would do. There was no telling what I would allow him to do either. It was difficult to think when he was that close to me.

  “Was that I threat?” I asked him once he was far enough away again that I could talk at full volume.

  “It’s whatever you want it to be,” Trent replied, “but it’s the truth.”

  I scoffed at him. Did he really think that I was going to let him walk all over me like this without any consequences? He may have had his gang of thugs to do his bidding, but that didn’t mean he would rule over me. My father had taught me to be independent and never to trust a man. The meaning of his words was much deeper now that I knew his true history as a mafia boss.

  Part of me wanted to tell that to Trent. Maybe he would leave me alone if he knew that I had mafia ties. My father said that once I got out, his people would make sure I was safe. Even from prison, it wasn’t like he couldn’t help me. He had enough connections to pull some strings if need be.

  On the other hand, Trent might laugh at me, thinking that I was a liar. He might find a way to use what I said to him against me. There was no way for me to know. He was clever, but I was more so.

  Trent drummed his large fingers against the cold metal table, looking into the distance. “I would like to warn you, Samantha, that you’re walking on thin ice without my protection.”

  This again? He didn’t want to give it up. I didn’t have money to pay him with even if I wanted to. He was out of his mind thinking that I would accept his gang’s protection. I didn’t need it, and I certainly didn’t want it.

  I looked over at him as he continued to stare toward the opposite side of the room, his eyes unfocused. I shook my head and chuckled. “You just won’t give up, will you?”

  “You’ll see what happens when you don’t pay,” he said.

  “What, are you going to send your goons after me?” I said, taunting him. />
  “No,” he replied dryly. “I don’t need to. The whole school will know what an uppity rich girl you are in due time. You’re screwed out there on your own.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Except for, I’m not rich.”

  “You’re so stupid, it’s not even funny,” he said, finally looking at me.

  “I’m not stupid, asshole,” I said. He was such a prick.

  “You are,” he said casually. “You’ll get what’s coming to you.”

  “Stop it,” I said, heat rising to my face. I stood up and glared at him. “You have no right to talk to me like that.”

  He let out an evil laugh. “The world doesn’t work in your prissy little rich-girl way, Samantha. I’ll talk to you in whatever way that I want.”

  “Fuck you,” I said, throwing my hands up. I couldn’t win an argument with Trent. He would just keep digging in and antagonizing me like he was doing now. There was no point in getting heated with him. He even seemed to enjoy it, but it stressed me the fuck out.

  I stormed away from the table, wanting to get as far from him as I could. While I couldn’t completely escape his presence because we were in detention, I could at least get far enough away so that he wouldn’t be able to speak to me. I was through with Trent.

  I made it to the opposite end of the room and threw my ass down on the hard bench connected to the table. The detention room was large enough to separate Trent and me from one another successfully, but I remained suspicious that he would attempt to follow me. Surely, security would grab him if he did that. Maybe that was wishful thinking.

  I looked up at the large clock that hung from the wall, calculating how much longer I would have to watch its cheap plastic hands tick until the final bell rang, and I was free to go.

  5 hours, and I would be eating lunch in detention as well. Fuck.

  I glance in the direction of Trent, checking to see if he had moved. He hadn’t. He sat with his hands clasped together, staring off into space like he was zoned out entirely. I envied his ability to do that, but he probably had plenty of experience in detention. He seemed like the type of person to come here a lot. It really didn’t take much if I was used as an example.