Page 2 of Cruel Academy (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 2)

I freeze.Fuck.I should just keep going. Run out into the parking lot, get in my car, and get the hell out of dodge.

But it’s too late. I’ve been spotted.

“Haley Cochran, is that you?!” the girl repeats.

Sighing, I turn around and lower my sunglasses.

“No fucking way!” shrieks the girl—Anna McCauley—in a bastardized New York accent that is as fake as the long lashes she’s wearing. Anna always has her lashes on.

I give her a tight smile. “Hi.”

“Are you slumming or what?” She takes a long sip of whatever spiked drink is inside of her gas-station Styrofoam cup and smacks her lips. “I didn’t think you ran with us anymore.”

“I’ve been busy. We moved this summer and—”

“I know. Big castle on the hill. We’ve all seen it.”

My stomach flips. “You know where I live?”

She nods, looking dangerously unsteady on her high heels. “If you thought you could disappear after the way you left Public, you’re batshit crazy. Crazier than I thought, actually.”

Shit. No bueno. If Anna knows where I live, then John certainly does, too.

Hell, she’s probably the person who told him.

That’s not good. Not good at all.

Anna leans forward, eyes as wide as possible considering the weight of her lashes. “Is it true you tore his place to shit? I heard you trashed his house after he dumped you?”

“Afterhedumpedme?” I bark out a laugh. “I broke up with him.”

She purses her lips and nods, but I can tell she doesn’t buy it. No one does. Not a single one of the Public kids I used to call my friends.

Not that I care. If I had it my way, I’d never see any of those people again.

Anna shrugs, takes another long sip of her beverage, and then totters away without even bothering to say bye. I watch her go.

“Bitch,” I whisper under my breath.

She takes a seat amongst a cluster of Public girls on one of the front bleachers. They all start whispering and cackling. A few of them throw mean glances my way.

“Bitches,” I correct. Wouldn’t want any of my former so-called friends to feel left out of that term of endearment.

Even though it’s a bad idea, I let myself search their faces to see if Estefania is among them.

Estefania—my actual former best friend. Who is also the girl who hasn’t returned a single one of the many, many text messages I’ve sent since my family moved across town and I switched schools from Public to Ravenlake Academy.

I’m desperate to see her. To hear from her. For her to say something to me, anything at all. Even just a “hi” or a “fuck you.” She’s the only person left at Public that I care about.

But it seems the feeling is not at all mutual.

The crowd noise picks up. I look over to the ring to see what’s happening.

Between the ropes, Caleb is doing what he does best—pounding his opponent into a pulp. His back is facing me, so I can see how his muscles flex and shine under the spotlights.

Slicked with sweat.

Dangerous and deadly.

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