Delinquent (Academy of Misfits Book 1) Read online

  “You mean beautiful, with killer tits and arse? Yep, pretty much. Why, you bothered I picked her and not you?”

  “As if,” I retort, wondering if he really thinks that his knight in shining armour act will be a sure-fire way to get into my knickers. Not. Going. To. Happen. Glaring at him, I pick up my pace.

  “So, looks like we both got let off with a slap on the wrist then. Oceanside is a goddamn palace!” he remarks.

  “You call coming here a slap on the wrist?” I ask, pounding down the stairs two at a time.

  “Are you kidding me? Of course, I do! Have you seen this place? It’s got an Olympic sized swimming pool, games room and a fucking maze out the back. Plus, the dining hall is ridiculous. We get to choose from a buffet every time we eat. Can’t say we’d get the same in juvie, can you? And we get to mix with the opposite sex. A fucking bonus in my opinion.”

  I push through the door on the first floor, not bothering to keep it open for him. “How have you managed to look around this place and hook up with that bitch all in one afternoon?” I ask, changing the subject. I really don’t care about what Oceanside Academy has to offer. I won’t be swimming. I certainly won’t be spending time in the games room with the rest of these arseholes and I sure as hell won’t be getting lost in some maze so Bram and his bitchface of a girlfriend can jump me. I’ve got way more street smarts than that.

  “I arrived Saturday. Plenty of time to case the joint, and the residents,” he says, giving me a salacious wink.

  “Didn’t take her long to find a guy or two,” I smirk.

  “They’re both year two residents. Been going out since they started last year. Can’t help it that when I arrive, she’s all over me like a rash. ”

  “Right… and you thought you’d lay it on her?”

  “What?” Sonny questions, looking like butter wouldn’t melt as he follows me towards my room. “She offered herself on a platter, what was I supposed to do?”

  I just give him a scathing look. “I don’t actually give a shit.”

  “Fair enough,” he responds, not in the least bit bothered by my rudeness. In fact, given the shit eating grin that seems to be permanently plastered on his face, I think he kind of likes my attitude. Well, there’s more of that where it came from.

  “So, you’ve probably worked it out by now, but all the first years have their rooms on this floor, second year are on the floor above and the third years get the top floor. In the past they had gatherings up on the roof away from prying eyes,” he explains, still trying to make conversation even though I’ve made it clear I’m not interested in talking with him. Still, gatherings on the roof? Sounds interesting.

  “How? Doesn’t everyone have to be in bed by ten?” I laugh, rolling my eyes at that. I’ve had curfews before and never once stuck to them. So, unless they’re going to lock me in my bedroom, I’m going to do whatever the hell I want, so long as I don’t get caught.

  Sonny laughs, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “They check once. Then pretty much leave us to our own devices. This is not juvie and therefore they can’t enforce a curfew. We just get credits deducted if we’re caught out of our rooms after ten pm.”

  “Credits?”

  “Yep, gain them for good behaviour, doing well in class, being teacher’s pet, that kind of thing. Lose them for bad behaviour. If you get enough credits, you can buy time out of this place. Day trip on the weekend into Hastings, that kind of thing. Catch my drift?”

  “Yeah, I get it,” I sigh. Looks like I’m going to be stuck in this hellhole until the term break.

  “Any other questions? I’m like a walking encyclopaedia when it comes to Oceanside and all the rules. Hazard of living with the douchebags who fund the place.”

  “You live with the people who own this place?” I ask, my mouth agape.

  “Yep, it’s both a curse and a…. No, not a blessing, actually,” he says grimacing. “So, anything else you’d like to know?”

  “I do have one question actually,” I respond, stopping at the door of my room. “You lay Bram out with a punch and a guy like that doesn’t retaliate, what gives?”

  Sonny leans against the wall, crossing one foot over the other. He’s wearing drainpipe black denim jeans with a loose grey t-shirt and scuffed up leather boots. He’s put together in a way that implies he doesn’t really care about what he wears or his appearance, but it's too contrived. Sonny most definitely cares about what he looks like. The groomed hair, neat brows and bright white teeth tell me as much.

  “Nothing gets past you, does it?” he grins appreciatively, checking me out as much as I’m doing the same to him. I’m not sure if he’s taking the piss or not, but either way I can feel heat creeping up my neck at his steady perusal. I will myself not to blush. I’m not used to being looked at in this way. Eastern might have started a new trend recently, but I’m not happy about anyone else stepping into his footsteps and taking the baton at making me feel uncomfortable in my own skin. Most of my life I’ve been left alone by the lads on my estate, partly because I’m so unapproachable, but also because Eastern has been by my side every second of every day. Apart from a few heated kisses and a couple of one night stands at parties I’ve attended over the last year, I’ve not had a boyfriend. Never really wanted one.

  “Not if I can help it,” I retort, narrowing my eyes at him. “So, what gives?”

  Sonny swipes a hand through his hair. “You remember the dickhead I was with at the court?”

  “Yep. Armani suit, silver fox, beard, sexy.”

  Sonny scowls. “Yeah, him. Well, he’s one of the Freed brothers, rich as fuck with shedloads of properties and holiday resorts all over the world. They’re the dudes that fund this place.”

  “I’ve heard of them,” I say. They’re legends in our neck of the woods. Three foster kids from shitty backgrounds made good. “I thought he was your foster parent?”

  “He isn’t my foster parent, he’s my guardian. Bryce knew my dad when he was a kid. When my dad died, he stepped in and became my guardian. Like I said, I’ve been living with them for five months now.”

  “Them?”

  “Yes, Bryce and his family. Don’t ask, it’s a weird as fuck setup.”

  “But what’s that got to do with the fact that Bram didn’t get into a full-on brawl with you?”

  “Bram knows if he fucks with me, Bryce has the power to get him kicked out of Oceanside faster than you can say… Ah, fuck!”

  “Ah, fuck?!” I question, frowning. But when Sonny’s eyes widen at someone or something behind me, I realise he’s no longer talking about Bram.

  “There you are, you little sod!” a man says, approaching us both. There’s a light-heartedness to his words, affection even. In two seconds flat, I know he isn’t a teacher here. He’s way too groomed for that. This guy, though dressed down in a pair of dark blue jeans, black jumper and suede loafers, oozes money. As far as I know, teachers aren’t paid enough to wear Gucci and Ralph Lauren.

  “You were supposed to meet us out front before we head off. I should’ve known I’d find you chatting up the most beautiful girl in the building,” he says, swiping his blonde hair off his face. When I look a little closer, I can see that some of the blonde is grey, but man is he fit for an oldy. I frown as this complete stranger gives me a sincere smile that isn’t at all judgemental, which is a drastic change to what I usually encounter. Most of the men on my estate vary between lecherous to completely perverted. This guy seems genuine enough.

  “Max, give me a break. You guys told me to settle in. Well, that’s what I’m doing,” Sonny huffs.

  “And I suppose settling in consists of shimmying down the bloody drainpipe, does it? What were you doing climbing out of a second story window?”

  “You actually climbed down the drainpipe?” I snort, glancing at Sonny who just shrugs like it’s no big deal. The kid’s a bona fide lunatic.

  “On second thought, don’t tell me. I really don’t want to know,” he responds wit
h a shake of his head, before turning his attention fully to me and thrusting out his hand to shake.

  “Given Sonny isn’t going to introduce us properly, I’m going to. My name is Max Freed and this lad here is one to avoid unless you want your heart stolen,” he says, winking at Sonny who grumbles something along the lines of ‘arsehole’ and ‘cramping his style’ under his breath. My teeth find my lip ring in a gesture I always do when I feel uncomfortable and out of my depth. This guy seems nice, really nice, and I’m not used to it. His hand falls to his side when I don’t take it, a frown creasing his brow.

  “I don’t plan on letting anyone steal my heart, especially not by some kid who has really bad taste in women,” I retort, turning my back on them both and stepping inside my room before either can see the stupid arse blush rising up my neck and colouring my cheeks. When I lean against the closed door, I can hear Max cracking up with laughter and Sonny cussing him out with a few choice words. A smile plays around my lips, but I force myself to stop. I will not be drawn in by some bighead lothario who shags anything with a pulse, even if he does have really good hair and a nice smile. Nope. Nope. Nope.

  9

  Just after 6pm, I head down to the dining hall. My empty, grumbling stomach forces me out of my room and into the main building. Eastern still hasn’t responded to my text, and I haven’t managed to get hold of Tracy either. A tiny part of me thinks that something bad has happened to Braydon, but I push that thought aside. I’m sure they’d call me if that was the case. Following the sound of chatter and the delicious smell of home cooked food, I head towards the dining room entering through a set of double doors.

  Laughter erupts the moment I step into the room, a second before a cream cake comes flying towards me. I duck. The cake misses me and splats on the double doors. I watch as it slides to the floor. Anger bubbles in my stomach and I clench my fists, but instead of launching myself at the nearest person like I normally would, I cock my brow then bark out an unimpressed laugh. Besides, I’m not sure which of these arseholes threw the cake.

  “Next time use someone with a better aim,” I say to anyone who’s listening before striding into the room and nudging past a bunch of arseholes who are attempting to be intimidating but failing miserably. Bram and Red are sitting with them, which figures. I glare at them, baring my teeth. I don’t think they realise who they’re messing with. Dickwads.

  Picking up a tray from the counter, I start grabbing items. I’m suddenly not particularly hungry, but there’s absolutely no way I’m letting any of these arseholes think they’ve got the better of me. So, I pile my plate with curry and rice, a bowl of salad and some bread. It’s self-service, and as far as I can tell on my quick sweep of the room, there aren’t any adults or staff around at the moment. Figures. None of these arseholes would be ballsy enough to throw food at me were an adult in the room. At least, I don’t think they would.

  From the far corner of the dining hall, a group of about fifteen guys start to jeer and catcall. It’s the same group I came across earlier today. They’re all looking at me like I’m a nice juicy piece of meat that they want to chew up and spit out. Bunch of dicks. Actually, wait, three of them are chicks. A crew of dicks and chicks then.

  “What?!” I sneer. If they think they’re going to intimidate me, they’ve got another thing coming. I’ve dealt with bigger and badder men than these bunch of arseholes.

  “Well, if it isn’t the resident skank. You manage to shower yet?” Bram sneers, drawing my attention back to him and the group of fools he’s sitting with. He’s laughing loudly at his own weak as fuck cuss and I can’t help but respond. He’s walked right into this one.

  “You managed to get your dick up long enough to satisfy your girlfriend or did she find another victim to get her off whilst you whacked out a ten second jizz party?” The room erupts with laughter and more catcalling, this time aimed at Bram and Red.

  “Why you little…”

  “Bitch?” I ask before Red can finish her sentence. “Ever heard the saying ‘sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me?’ Call me every damn name under the sun, Bitch, but know this… I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck.”

  Her mouth pops open as her face flushes an angry shade of red. I make a point of looking at each of them, not dropping my gaze and not backing down. “Next time one of you attempts to decorate me with cream cake you better be ready, because this bitch ain’t a pushover.”

  With that I stride over to an empty table, place my food on top of it, and start to eat. I expect more backlash, but the room descends into silence. Even the jeering has quietened, and there isn’t any food being thrown at me, so I guess that’s a win?

  “Bram was right, you have got big balls for a girl,” a deep, almost melodic voice says from behind me. “If you wanna show me just how big, now’s your chance.”

  “Oh for fuck sake,” I mutter.

  What now? Don’t these dickheads have anyone else to mess with? I slam my fork down on the table making the water inside my drinking glass spill over the sides. Slowly I push my chair back then stand, turning to face whoever it is that’s trying to screw with me this time, only to come face to face with a god.

  A literal fucking god.

  He smirks because he knows it too. I blink a couple of times, swallowing heavily as I realise that isn’t a halo around his head but the afternoon sun shining through the window behind him, lightening his hair.

  “I’m Ford,” he states, and it is a statement, not an introduction.

  He stares at me from beneath hooded eyelids, giving off the impression of someone who’s both distinctly unimpressed and nonchalant, but it’s all an act. Beneath the half-mast of his facade, his eyes are sharp, focused and calculating.

  “And?” I retort. His grey-green eyes rove over my skin, making it prickle… with fear? I’m not sure. I guess that would be a yes if I was fearful of what this guy could do to my heart. Just as well I’m not afraid of that. No, I’m really not.

  “Yeah. I like it,” he states, running his assessing eyes over me. I’m not sure if he’s talking about my name, or some other aspect of me. Either way, I feel weirded out by my immediate reaction to him.

  “Such a tiny girl with so much fire,” he mutters, running his knuckles over my cheek. The second they graze my skin my stomach tightens and my heart flip-flops. What is wrong with me? I need to get my shit together and fast!

  He smirks, his gaze travelling from my eyes to my lips that have parted of their own accord. There’s an edge of superiority in his gaze, like he really doesn’t give a shit about what anyone thinks of him, least of all me. Some people will say they don’t care about what others think when really, they do. But this guy he really, really doesn’t. He’s the type of guy to play chicken with cars on a motorway. The kind of guy who’ll lead you to war without you even questioning why, then stand over the dead and the dying without so much as a shred of guilt.

  If I want to survive Oceanside, this guy is the one I need to keep an eye on. Not Bram, not Red and not the mob of dumb arses who think throwing a cake at me will force me into submission. Least of all the other residents I haven’t even had time to consider just yet.

  Ford’s the kingpin and so far, the most dangerous person of all. At least to me.

  “So easily breakable…”

  “What the fuck do you mean by that?” I retort, pushing aside my growing... desire? And drawing out the hardened me.

  His tall six-foot frame crowds me beyond the point I’m comfortable with. I stiffen feeling both acutely annoyed, a little intimidated and turned on, to be honest. The whole room has fallen deadly silent telling me two things; I was right about him, and they want to see how I’m going to react next.

  “I’m not breakable…” I insist.

  He cocks his head to the side, sliding his tongue along his bottom lip. “The best things generally are,” he mutters. I literally have no idea what he’s talking about. It doesn’t seem to matter though, because
my body seems to be reacting to him of its own free will.

  Honestly, when looking at him you wouldn’t immediately assume ‘danger’. He isn’t an obvious threat, and if he smiled, I’m pretty certain he’d be a heartbreaker. But I reckon smiles from him are as rare as a total eclipse of the sun. This guy isn’t built like Bram, he has a wiry kind of physical strength. More like a runner than a heavyweight boxer, and yet I already know he gets into more scraps than the most bloodthirsty fighters I’ve come across on my estate. His nose is a little crooked, and there are a few tiny white scars scattered across his face. One slices through his top lip, another his eyebrow, and the third across his cheekbone. A mop of ash blonde hair hangs over his forehead, partly covering a deep purple bruise blooming there. For some unknown reason, I have the sudden urge to sweep it off his face. Stupid.

  “What do you want?” I growl, stepping towards him, rather than away. I never back off. No matter what I might be feeling. No matter that my head is screaming for me to run this time.

  The room sucks in a collective breath.

  “Bram, Red, and those guys over there,” he says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, “Are my crew here at Oceanside. I want you with us,” he adds, his voice lowering as he gazes at me.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumble under my breath. What is it with me and getting into shit with gang leaders? First Camden, now Ford.

  “No, I’m deadly fucking serious.”

  “And what if I choose not to join your motley crew of misfits,” I sneer, glancing at them all with distaste whilst simultaneously trying not to pay any attention to the fact that I feel a strange pull towards this guy. I’m like a spaceship caught in the gravitational pull of the sun. It’s not a feeling I like or want.

  “Then I can’t protect you from them,” he says, dropping his hand away from my cheek. The spot where his knuckles once touched now burns.