Page 7 of Kings of Westbrook High

“Yes, well, your record is a little contradictive. You're a straight A student and yet you were suspended from your previous school three times in the last month alone, twice for smoking and once for fighting.”

“What can I say?” I shrug, grinning. “I'm a multitasker.”

She leans forward and folds her hands on her desk, not amused. “There's a routine admissions test I'd like you to take for me before I give you your schedule, just to make sure we've placed you in the right classes. Are you happy to do it now?”

I roll my eyes, laughing lightly because this isn't the first time I've been called a cheater, indirectly or otherwise, and I'm sure it won't be the last. “Gimme the damn test.”

She reaches into her top drawer to pull it out and places it on the desk in front of me, unapologetically sitting back to watch me while I take a pen and begin to work on it.

I could tell the second she met me twenty minutes ago she saw nothing but trouble - the same thing most people see when they look at me. I'm the bad girl with the big mouth and the bitchy attitude who smokes too much weed and prefers to use her fists over her words to express her feelings - something I learned from my father. But I'm also stubborn and I get off on proving people wrong, which is why when someone tells me I can't do something, I fucking do it.

Once I'm finished, I slide my test back to her and watch while she grades it, leaning back with a cocky ass grin on my face when her disbelieving frown intensifies to a whole new level of scalp pulling.

“I apologize, Callie.” She says sincerely, circling the perfect forty on the top of the first page. “It seems I underestimated you.”

“Most people do.”

She nods as if she gets me.

She doesn't.

“Can you explain the record?” She asks, tapping her finger on my long list of behavior issues and incidents, as they called them.

I frown, looking from it to her. “I think it's pretty self explanatory.”

She laughs lightly, handing me my class schedule. “Welcome to Westbrook High. I trust you'll consider this a fresh start.”

I ignore that and stand to leave, stopping in the doorway when she speaks again.

“Watch your back out there, Callie. You're not in Vegas anymore.”

Damn straight.

I offer fake smile at her cryptic tone and leave her office, passing the receptionist's desk and heading out to the hall filled with students milling about and chatting in their own little social groups.

This school is fucking weird.

The people are mostly dressed in designer clothes with perfectly made up faces and douchebag haircuts, the worth of all those fancy cars outside combined would probably be enough to buy a private island, and the building itself makes my shitty public school look like a maximum security prison.

To say I don't belong here is putting it lightly, and judging by the looks thrown my way while I walk down the hall, they damn well know it, too.

Too bad for them, I don't fucking care.

If I can survive three and a half years in a place where getting shot in homeroom is a very real possibility, three months of this shit should be a walk in the park.

Surrounded on all sides, I keep my head up and stay in the middle, doing my best to ignore their bullshit stares and whispers.

Just blend, Callie.

I keep walking and eye the numbers on the wall of lockers, almost at mine now, but I don’t make it there before a solid wall of muscle appears out of fucking nowhere and I face plant a hard chest, bouncing back with a squeal and landing flat on my ass in front of about thirty laughing teenagers. Leaning up on my hands, I ignore them all and keep my eyes on the dark haired prick who purposely blocked my path, not missing the twin boys who make it a point to step up either side of him, forming a solid line of pure hotness and power.

Well, I'll be damned.

I lick both corners of my lips, slowly moving my glare from left to right because it doesn't take a genius to figure out who they are. These are the Kingston brothers, and judging by the wicked smirk the twin one on the right hits me with, they know exactly who I am, as well.

“You should watch where you're going.” He teases, crouching down to level me with his baby blue eyes. “Pretty little thing like you could get hurt.”

I raise a brow at the obvious threat in his tone, noting the noise level in the hall has dropped significantly. “Is that right?”

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