Page 10 of Cruel Legacy

Thankfully, when the custom fitting and tailoring was over, and she’d dressed me up like socialite Barbie to her satisfaction, she let me buy normal clothes. FYI I have way too many of them too.

Sasha would freak if she saw all of this. Hell, I’m freaking out because of it. I tried to tell Moira not to waste her money, but she didn’t listen. She said it wasn’t a waste, and she always wanted someone to shop for other than herself. Then she ran for the door after telling me to have fun and enjoy this time at school, because it was about learning and self-discovery.

Uncle Scott didn’t give a huge speech when he left. He just shoved an envelope at me with a wad of cash and three different credit cards inside and told me to talk to Sourpuss if I needed more. At the car, they both told me to call them if I needed anything.

The words sounded nice. I guess it’s what you’re supposed to say, but they kept staring up at the dorm building with these apprehensive looks on their faces. When I mentioned to Sasha that I think they’re already regretting the decision to take me in, she said it probably wasn’t regret I saw, but worry. An emotion I hardly recognize because it’s been so damn long since anyone gave a shit about me.

I stashed the money and credit cards, I won’t be using, in the wall safe hidden behind a panel in my closet. I’ve still got a bit of money in my checking and savings accounts, and as soon as I get situated with my classes, I’ll be getting a job. I meant what I told them in the kitchen at breakfast. I believe in paying my own way.

Moving into the dorm didn’t take long since Moira insisted on helping me unpack and decorate, while Scott went to make a final payment at the business office. Now, I’ve got nothing to do on my last day before I start classes.

ScottsuggestedI tour the campus, read the school handbook, have an early dinner and be back in my room before the sun goes down so I can get a good night’s sleep. What am I, twelve? Iwillbe taking a tour, but of the town just outside the campus gates and a little beyond.

This place seems nice and all, but it’s not me. I need to find out where people like myself hang out, because there’s no way I’ll be able to tolerate partying with these proper, pretentious folks. I’m not throwing shade. The observation is built on years of experience.

Sasha and I have crashed plenty of college parties and I’ve learned one thing. They have the good booze and anything you want to smoke, snort, mainline, or swallow, but when the cops show up or shit goes sideways, people like me are always the first people questioned.

That shit gets old real quick, so I prefer to party where we’re all considered menaces to society and nobody’s pointing fingers at anyone else.

We don’t call the cops. If there’s a dispute, we handle it between us and keep the party going. Things get scary sometimes and the minute I see a gun, I haul ass, but the fights, I stick around for those. Even when I’m not the one throwing punches.

With one last look around the room, I grab my new phone and the key fob for my door. The electronic lock is coded to the fob programmed with a pin number I selected. I thought it was a bit much when a regular key works just fine, but Moira seemed happy with the added security layer. I ride the elevator alone and walk past the lounge area towards the sliding doors. Once outside, I take a moment to bask in the sun, letting it warm my skin.

I take off towards my right, which leads to the middle of campus. Canyon Falls’ University is huge. The campus grounds are bigger than Nags Creek community college and its satellite centers combined. I’m loosely following the campus map, just so I know where all my classes are, and to get a feel for my surroundings. I won’t tell Uncle Scott, but his suggestion was spot on. I always make sure I know several ways to get to and from the same place.

It’s the middle of the day, and the campus is bustling with more activity than I expected. I know everyone has their own schedules and they don’t all match up, but I figured if no one’s in class, they’d be in bed sleeping, or watching tv. Doing something other than hanging around like sitting ducks, with all their sparkly shit, just waiting to be robbed. I shake my head, reminding myself things are different here, and I’m not in Nags Creek anymore. Flashing your valuables might be safe to do around here, but it’s still obnoxious as hell.

It’s been a little less than an hour on my tour. I’ve scoped out the longest and shortest routes from to and from my dorm to my classes and Rockford Dining Hall. The brochure I picked up from the Welcome Center says everyone calls it The Rock. A second dining hall with grab and go meals is over by the gym. I give The Rock a cursory glance, and head towards the hiking trail on the back half of campus. That’s where I’ll probably be spending most of my free time. According to what I’ve read, this trail runs from campus to the neighboring town.

There used to be another part of the hiking path that went to Canyon Falls, where my aunt and uncle live, and down through the valley between the cliffs and into the Santa Monica Mountains, dropping you off at Brunson Canyon. From there, you could make your way to the Hollywood sign.

That’s a long ass hike. One I’d be happy to attempt; camping out along the way. The problem is, I keep coming across the same articles and blog posts, which say the old hiking trail was closed over forty years ago. None of the articles mention where the entrance to the trail was located. I love nature and a good mystery, so it’s safe to say the only thing I’m excited about since coming here is finding that damn trail.

Chapter4

Holden Sullivan

Itune out the conversations around me, focusing on Paxton’s movements and facial expressions. I’m trying to get an idea of what might be going through his head. He’s never been big on sharing his feelings and is always careful about what he says out in public. The vein in his jaw is throbbing the way it does when he’s clenching his teeth. Whatever he’s thinking can’t be good.

We won our challenge and so far there’s been no mention of Finn’s almost hit and run, so I’m betting the accident isn’t the source of his anger. Only one other thing stresses him out, his father, Malcolm Cox. He’s probably not ready to talk about it, but that doesn’t stop me from trying to get him to open up. “Did you see the old man this weekend?”

Pax is leaning against the wall outside of the school store, staring across The Circle. The area on campus that branches out to five different directions. “Thursday night, after the job.”

That’s not unusual. His dad usually touches base with him after a job. “And?”

He pushes off the wall. “I’m going to the gym.”

I let him walk away, knowing that’s about as much as I’m going to get out of him, but it gives me some insight into how he’s feeling. He’s going to the gym, which means whatever his dad said was just an annoyance. If he would’ve said he was going for a drive, that means he’s trying to outrun whatever’s on his mind.

Pax and I have been friends for so long I don’t even remember a time in my life when we weren’t. Finley came along when we were in junior high. He’s from a legacy family, but they didn’t live here when we were in elementary school. Something to do with his father’s job overseas. They moved back right before seventh grade.

Finn thought he was a big deal because he spoke French, Italian, and Japanese. The girls loved it, but Paxton and I thought he was a pussy. We got the shock of our lives when he showed up at one of the legacy families’ mini vacations.

That weekend was a camping excursion with a bit of wilderness survival training and obstacle courses. We just knew his scrawny, sonnet reading ass wouldn’t make it through the first obstacle on the course. Not only did he make it, but he came in a fraction of a second behind Pax. Until then, Pax and I had always flipped between first and second place, and nobody ever came close to matching our scores.

We were ready to call it a fluke, but when Galen Prescott went to square off with Finn in our makeshift wrestling ring, we learned Finn had so much more to him than a love of languages and poetry. He was quick and strong and had Galen on his ass in the third round.

Finn won. That should have been the end of it. But Galen had always been a sore fucking loser.

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