Page 1 of His Brave Girl

CHAPTER 1

Presley

“Sorry I’m not there to see you off on your first day, kiddo. I know it’s hard being the new kid on the block.”

The guilt in his voice pains me. It’s not his fault he had to travel for work this week. Besides, this is my seventh school in the last five years; I don’t get nervous anymore.

“Dad, please stop apologizing. I’ve got this. You know I’m a pro at being the new kid.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wish I could suck them back in. Now, he’s going to feel guilty over that too. All I’m trying to do is get him to stop worrying about me. I’m not a little girl anymore. Besides, he has no idea how happy I am to be moving on from my last school. He doesn’t understand how much I need this fresh start.

“I know, sweetie. And I’m sorry,” he sighs, making my stomach sink even lower into the pit of guilt. “Well, you know what they say—what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

I wish I’d just kept my mouth shut. He didn’t need another reminder of what my life’s been like since the divorce. I need to fix my mistake.

“Yep, exactly, Dad. I’m one strong, badass bitch now.” I’m hoping the strength in my voice will ease his guilt.

When a low chuckle comes through the line it eases mine. “Language, Presley!”

“You know I am, Dad.” The smile is in my voice, but thankfully he’s not here to see it absent from my face. I wish I was badass. But it turns out I’m just a bitch.

“Yep, you’re a great kid. In spite of everything you’ve been dealt over the last few years, you’ve turned out to be an incredible young lady and I’m so proud of you, Pres.”

The emotion stings my eyes, catching me right in the chest. I wish I could’ve lived with him over the last five years. I would’ve actually had a parent in my life that cared about me. Now, that I’m eighteen, I get to choose who I live with, and I’m just happy I’m finally here. Where I should’ve been all along.

“Okay, Dad, you need to stop or you’ll mess up my makeup before school starts and then I’ll be late.”

“You don’t wear makeup, Presley. But I get the message: quit with the heavy. All right, kiddo, I’ll let you go. But call me later when you get home. I want to hear how your first day goes.”

“I will, Dad. Love you.”

“Love you, too, kiddo.”

When the line goes dead, the air rushes from my lungs. The storm of emotion is trying to move in, but I’m not going to let it. I check my reflection one last time, making sure the tears are gone from my cheeks; the pain absent from my eyes. It’s time to put on a brave face and head to school.

The parking lot is swarming with kids when I pull in. In one quick survey of the lot, I can already see the hierarchy of the students. It’s the same at every school. And front and centerare the Elites. The group of kids usually made up of the ones with money and good looks. The ones that are typically the top athletes and cheerleaders of the school. Yep, and here it’s no different. They’re all lingering by their expensive cars, looking powerful and perfect. The guys extremely good-looking and the girls all gorgeous and put together.

Everyone else is lingering around the outskirts, secretly wishing they were part of their clique. Wanting to be one of the “popular kids.” The ones invited to all the parties. The ones that look like they have all their shit perfectly together. But the onlookers, the wannabes, are wrong. In every school I’ve been to, I’ve always been part of that group. I’ve always been one of the Elite, and I’ve always seen the truth.

That’s why this time, I’m staying as far away from the fold as I possibly can. I plan on avoiding them like the plague. I’m here for four months and then I’m graduating and moving on past all this high school bullshit. I’m done with the drama and I’m done with the stupid hierarchy. And these self-proclaimed popular kids that feel like they’re entitled to do as they please just because they were born with certain perks and privilege are in for a rude awakening when their little bubble pops and they get out into the real world.

I pull my jeep into a space then do a quick check in the mirror before hopping out, feeling the eyes already burning into me as I grab my bag from the back seat. If I look over now, I know I’ll find the Elite girls narrowly assessing me. Their faces inevitably showing their curiosity until jealousy gets ahold of them. That’s when realization will hit and they’ll decide they need me as a friend and not their enemy— because to them I’m their competition. I have no intention of getting involved with any of the guys here, so these girls have nothing to worry about. But I’m sure they’ll make their attempt to invite me into theirgroup so they can control exactly who I do and don’t choose to date.

The guys are no doubt making their assessment too. But they’re not looking at me like I’m competition. They’re drinking me in from top to bottom, many of them making a mental note that I’ll be the next one on their “plan to fuck” list. They can look all they want, but none of them will be able to touch me. I’m not interested in dating right now. Guys, I’ve learned, are all assholes. At least, high school boys are.

Although, I really can’t blame them. They’re young and trying to have fun. They aren’t looking to get tied down at eighteen. They’re just looking to get laid and are driven by way too many hormones. But those hormones can turn them into manipulating monsters. And my barely beating heart won’t withstand another break.

I throw my bag over my shoulder, keeping my eyes trained on my phone and on the ground in front of me as I make my way to the front entrance. If I glance in their direction, they’ll pounce. They’ll take the eye contact as an invitation to come over and start the induction process. I plan on avoiding that too, for as long as I possibly can. Because once the girls learn I’m not interested in being part of their “cool group,” they’ll see me as an enemy, and I know exactly what will happen then.

I’m not afraid of what they’ll do to me. None of that scares me. It’s the drama I want to avoid at all costs. I’m exhausted. So, from now until graduation, I intend to go to class, study, and keep my head down and my grades up. That’s it. Having a social life can happen when I’m older. When people choose to be your friend because they like you, not because of some stupid hierarchy based around money and looks.

The lady in the front office hands me my schedule and asks if I’d like someone to show me around to my classes. It’s not necessary. I’m a pro at navigating through new schools. Besides,they usually always choose a cheerleader to do the tours, and that’s a hard pass. “No, thank you. I’m all set.”

I check my schedule as I exit the office, looking for the room number of my first period class.Room 149. I look up to get my bearings, but I don’t see any signs, numbers, or indicators on which way I should go. The only thing I see is… HIM.

A shiver rocks through me as if the building was just hit with a tremor from my past. A static charge clings to my nerves; my lungs struggling to release the air that’s trapped inside. He’s watching me from across the corridor. His dark brown eyes burning a slow path down my body, leaving a trail of goosebumps over every inch. The warning bells sound inside my head, telling me I need to keep my distance.

One look at his domineering frame and it’s clear he has power. His body is big and broad. Every line chiseled to perfection. Sculpted to entice and intimidate. If I had to put money on it, I’d say he’s the king of the Elite. I doubt there’s anyone better looking than him at this school. And the jersey he’s wearing says “Captain” on it, which is usually reserved for the one who holds the throne.

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