Page 111 of Cruel Academy (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 2)

Haley jogs around me and tries to cut me off, but before I can even think about what I’m doing, I shove her aside with my shoulder

It’s a small bump, nothing more than a jostle in my mind, but Haley loses her footing and lands on her hip on the concrete driveway. She winces, checking the scrapes on her hands, and I almost stop and help her up—more out of habit than any real concern for her.

Then I think better of it.

“You’re a violent coward, Caleb,” Haley yells from behind me. “You hide behind your strength and your ego, and at the end of the day, you’re not alone because of anything I did or said. You’re alone becauseyouchose it. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

She stands in the driveway as I pull away, watching me go.

41

Caleb

I pull into my usual space in the senior parking lot on Monday morning. J.C. and Noah are standing next to their cars a few spaces away.

I grab my bag out of the passenger seat and get out, hoping simple forward motion will be enough to propel me through this day.

But I don’t get more than a few feet away from my truck before I hear J.C. yelling at me.

“Hey, asshole! Over here!”

I turn to him, and he waves me over with a dramatic flailing of his arms.

I hesitate. It only makes him wave his arms even harder.

“Come. Here,” he says, enunciating each word.

Noah beckons me nonchalantly with his head. That is what finally makes me change course and move towards them.

J.C. narrows his eyes when I’m within earshot. “Were you going to walk by us without saying anything?”

I shrug. “I didn’t see you.”

“Liar.” He crosses his arms and leans against Noah’s car. Immediately, Noah pushes him off. “I told Noah about your suicide mission this weekend.”

“He means the alcohol poisoning you were obviously after,” Noah says.

“You threw up in Haley’s car.” J.C. holds up two fingers. “Twice.”

That’s not ideal. She didn’t mention it yesterday, but then again, she was a bit too busy calling me a violent coward.

“You should pay her for the cleaning cost.”

“If you can afford it, that is,” Noah adds.

They both stare at me, expression flat, and I study them, anger rising in my chest.

Before my defenses can rise too high, they both grin.

“We’ll lend you the money if you can’t, of course,” J.C. says. “I’ve been meaning to donate more to charity, anyway.”

Noah shakes his head. “I don’t do charity. If you want any money from me, you’re going to have to earn it. My car needs washing if you’re short on cash.”

I’m still not sure how to respond, but they both seem to be joking. “Never going to happen.”

“Your car is spotless, Noah.” J.C. cups his hands around his eyes to peek through the tinted back window. “It looks like you just drove it off the lot. Do you get it detailed?”

He nods. “I have to, so my mom doesn’t notice the pot smell.”

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