Page 2 of Filthy Elites

An angry retort bubbles up my throat, but I swallow it down. I have to fly under the radar of the popular students here. In my experience, the higher they stand in the school hierarchy, the worse human beings they are.

Someone chuckles. A guy.

I turn with a frown, ready to ask what he finds so funny. Shit, reining in my nature will be hard. He’s leaning against the wall with one foot propped against it. He’s the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. A little on the pale side for a person living in coastal California, but it suits him. His aquamarine-blue eyes are framed by ridiculously long lashes, but it’s his full lips, curled into a grin, that make my heart flutter.

His tie hangs loose around his neck, and his shirt could use some ironing. That carelessly put together look paired with his messy hair and cocky smile raises alarms in my head. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s the top dog here, and I just caught his attention.

Crap.

His eyes widen as if he’s surprised about something, but then his gaze sharpens, turning dark.

“Fresh meat and already creating trouble.” He pushes off the wall and walks over.

“I’m not.”

He tilts his head. “You’re not fresh meat, or you’re not creating trouble?”

I let out a sigh. I can’t let him rope me into mind games. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m late to see the headmaster,” I lie.

“I’ll walk with you.”

“Why?” The question escapes my lips before I can stop it. Damn it.

He gives me a lopsided grin, showing a hint of teeth. He’s like a wolf who’s toying with his prey before he pounces. My pulse accelerates, but I’m not sure if it’s from fear, excitement, or both.

Isabelle, if you fall for another asshole, then you’re seriously messed up in the head.

He smirks. “I don’t need a reason.”

Of course, he doesn’t. He has the attitude of the king of school.

“Jason, babe. I’ve been looking all over for you.” A tall brunette sashays toward us, flanked by two friends in a perfectly executed Beyonce squad formation.

“We just saw each other,” he replies in a bored tone.

I step aside, knowing this chick will become territorial in the blink of an eye.

Her fake smile falters, and then she cuts her cold stare in my direction. I pretend I don’t notice her and keep walking. It’s a struggle to maintain a normal pace and not sprint down the hallway.

“Who was that weirdo?” she asks loud enough for me to hear.

“Don’t know. Some new girl.”

“What’s with her hair? She looks like a Black Veil Brides reject,” another girl pipes up.

“Is that a bad thing?” Jason asks with a hint of annoyance.

I turn a corner, and the cacophony of several people speaking at once makes it impossible to keep eavesdropping on their conversation. Not that I care to know what they think about how I look. My jet-black hair and brown contact lenses were some of the changes I had to make, besides using a fake name.

I find my locker and then go straight to my first period class. Unfortunately, it’s Advanced Spanish, and I couldn’t get out of it. The monster who tried to kill me was from Spain, and every time I hear the language, it makes my skin crawl.

There’s an empty chair in the back corner, and that’s where I park my butt. Hopefully, no one will notice me. I pull out my cellphone to appear busy and avoid making eye contact with anyone.

I’m not allowed to keep in touch with my old friends or follow them on social media, because it’s too risky. But no one can stop me from keeping up with the classical music scene. Before Juan came into my life, I was on the path to becoming one of the greatest violinists in the world—according to my tutors, that is. Now, thanks to needing to keep a low profile, I had to give up my dream. Of all the sacrifices I had to make, that was the hardest.

Glutton for punishment that I am, I decide to watch Seo-Jun Kim’s latest performance. She was my biggest competition, and since I was forced to abandon my career, there’s no one stopping her from claiming the throne of violin prodigy.

Tears of frustration gather in my eyes, and I’m lost in my pain.

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