Page 6 of Depraved Boys

The older woman covered the hallway with long, fast strides, and we both struggled, wheeling our oversized cases to keep up. She took the stairs two at a time, making me wonder if she was anything like Miss Trunchbull, the tyrannical headmistress in Roald Dahl’s book, Matilda. By the time we caught up with her halfway down the fourth-floor hallway, my breath had quickened, and sweat poured down my brow.

Miss Claymore stood at the doorway of a room twice the size of the one Mom and Dad shared in our cottage. Its windows overlooked the academy’s manicured gardens and the mountains beyond. Smaller buildings stood around the grassy campus, but I guessed that most of the teaching took place in this large mansion.

Ashley gasped, the first sign that she wasn’t completely disgruntled with our new living arrangements. “This is for us?”

Miss Claymore cleared her throat. “It’s not as spacious with the extra bed, but it was the best we could do at the last minute.”

“Thank you.” My gaze swung from the radiators beneath the double-glazed windows to the boarded-up fireplace. The part of me that pictured boarding schools with students toasting bread on roaring fires shriveled back to the recesses of my imagination. “It’s great.”

“Scholars have a separate common room in the east wing attic, where they may relax without disturbing the general population.” Miss Claymore pulled out a manilla file from the depths of her robes.

“She makes it sound like a prison, and you guys are in solitary,” whispered Ashley.

“Shhh!”

“And lastly, your schedules.” The deputy headmistress handed us sheets of printed paper.

Every single box in my schedule contained either a lesson or something called prep and each day started at eight in the morning and ended at nine at night. There were even things to do on Saturdays. I glanced over at Ashley’s schedule, which looked desolate compared to mine.

“Miss Claymore,” I said. “Why do I have twice as many classes as my sister?”

“Scholars have heavier schedules, but you also agreed to represent the school in swimming.”

“I could have done that,” said Ashley. “You can’t swim any better than me.”

“Take an hour to get settled in,” Miss Claymore said, not even acknowledging my sister. “I will send a prefect in your year to give you a proper welcome.” She disappeared down the hallway at that breakneck speed.

Swimming practice was twice a week, but getting rid of it would ease up my schedule. I turned to Ashley. “Do you want to take over—”

“Swimming was Mom and your thing, not mine. Dad and I only went along with it because you were so obsessed.”

“But you said—”

“You’re the one who’s making choices for us both.” She stuck her nose in the air and strode over to what she had decided would become her side of the room. “Now you can deal with them.”

After unpacking, we waited around for the prefect, but he or she didn’t arrive, so we decided to explore the campus by ourselves. The main building of Brittas Academy was a U-shaped structure with accommodation on the east and west wings and classrooms in the middle.

From the cutesy, hand-drawn pictures posted on the doors of the first floor, I guessed that the younger students occupied the lower levels, and the older students stayed at the top.

Ashley and I returned to the middle and were peering into an empty computer lab on the first floor, when a male voice purred from behind, “Who are you?”

I whirled around and stared into the aquamarine eyes of a tall boy with golden hair, tanned skin, and a wide, devilish grin of full lips and gleaming white teeth.

A breath caught in the back of my throat. Was he a student? The athletic, muscular body in the green uniform told me the answer was yes. A palpitation reverberated through my heart, heat bloomed on my cheeks, and I snatched my gaze away.

It landed on an equally as gorgeous, olive-skinned boy with hair that shone like polished jet and piercing eyes that were equally as dark.

My mouth dried, and I gulped hard. We didn’t get boys like this at Cummersdale Comprehensive. We didn’t get boys like this in Carlisle. They looked like they belonged somewhere fancy, like London or Paris or Milan.

The blond boy smirked, but the dark-haired boy scowled.

My sister was the first to speak. “Ashley Evergreen.” Her gaze lingered over their bodies.

I sucked in a breath, waiting for Ashley to introduce me to the boys, but she cocked out her hip and said, “And you are?”

“The one who’s going to light your fire.” The blond took Ashley’s hand and kissed her knuckles.

Disappointment made my shoulders droop, and I stared at my feet. Ashley was the party girl with more boyfriends than she had fingers, and I was the girl who spent my life in a textbook. Those were the roles we had fallen into since leaving London and settling into Carlisle. I’d hoped that things might be different in an elite academy dedicated to academic excellence, but I was awkward, even here.