Page 53 of Cruel Academy (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 2)

“Where’d this come from, then?” Noah asks, holding up the joint with a curious brow.

J.C. grins. “The bottom of Finn’s dad’s underwear drawer.”

Noah’s nose wrinkles, and he holds the joint out for J.C. “You could have told me that before.”

“Relax. It was in a plastic bag. It’s not like he rubbed it on his balls.” J.C.’s cheeks puff out comically large as he takes a hit.

Noah shakes his head. “I’m not smoking a dead man’s pot. That’s how you get haunted.”

I stop running numbers in my head, trying to figure out how I’m going to pay for my portion of the weekend, and turn to Noah. “You believe in ghosts?”

His face is perfectly straight when he nods.

Noah has always been the quiet one. Without all of the other guys clamoring to talk over each other and drawing all of the attention, I’ve been able to see how much Noah likes fucking with people.

He sits back, seemingly quiet and uninterested, but he’s always looking for an opportunity to stir the pot. So, I have no idea if he is being serious or not, but if it’s part of a plan, I suspect I’ll find out soon enough.

“More for me then.” J.C. toasts the joint in the air before bringing it back to his lips. “I’m not afraid of ghosts. Especially bitch-ass ghosts like Mr. Foster.”

Noah shakes his head. “You shouldn’t say shit like that, man.”

“Whatever.” J.C. rolls his eyes and then turns to me. “I’m making the drug run and Noah is buying hot dogs—”

“I never agreed to pack the picnic baskets,” Noah interrupts.

J.C. continues without paying him any mind. “So, if you give me fifty bucks for the weed, we’ll be square.”

Fifty bucks is nothing. I should roll my eyes at fifty dollars and hand it over without question. Except, I know my wallet is empty.

Worse, I know my drawer at home and my bank account is empty, too.

I can’t afford aspirin, let alone marijuana.

I’m flat broke and flat screwed.

“Why are you the one who picks it up?” I ask. “I can do it.”

J.C. raises a brow. “You want to go out to Public? Are you looking to start a riot?”

“He’s right,” Noah says, though he seems annoyed about being forced to agree with J.C. “You can’t go to Public by yourself. The Hell Princes will be on your shit faster than flies.”

“Then we’ll all go together.”

“It’s a drug deal, notHigh School Musical. Only one of us needs to go.”

“And I’m not doing it,” Noah says, putting his finger on his nose.

“He won’t,” J.C. says, nodding towards Noah. “And you can’t. So, the task falls to me and, lucky you, all you have to do is pay for it.”

That’sall I have to do. Like it’s that easy.

“Why don’t we all just bring our own shit?” I growl. “This doesn’t need to be a pot luck. We don’t need to have communal weed. You both smoke way more than I do, so I don’t know why I should pay for you to get high.”

“Because we’ve both paid for you to get high.” Noah is usually the last one to willingly join a conversation, but he is sitting up now and watching me. “Why is this a big deal?”

Because I have nothing in common with my friends if I’m not rich.

Because they’ll look down on me. Or worse, they’ll try to help.

---