Jaydon

Age 14…

One look at Ravenwood Private Academy, and I knew I was going to hate this place. Every fucker and their mum would know I didn’t belong here. So what if the school had personally selected me for their free scholarship program due to ‘academic excellence’. Charity was still fucking charity no matter how you tried to dress it up. The only reason schemes like this existed was to make the school look good. Golden opportunity, my arse, this place was going to be fucking hell.

By the time I arrived outside the wrought iron gate of Ravenwood Academy, I was well over three hours late because although the school had paid for my flights, they had neglected to send somebody to pick me up from the airport. Perks of being a scholarship student I guess, nobody actually gave a fuck if you arrived or not. And without a nickel to my name or credit on my phone, I’d had no choice but to walk.

Not that I had really cared at the time. Every second I got to spend outside of the academy was one more breath of freedom… That is until the rain started. Just another fuck you from the big man to remind me, I wasn’t shit.

It took twenty minutes alone to hike up the gravel driveway to the academy perched atop a steep hill, overlooking a forest of pine trees. Not that I was in the mood to appreciate the view when my clothes were plastered to my skin, and the only pair of knock-off converses I owned had worn through to the soles. It would be months before I would get the opportunity to replace them, and by ‘replace’, I mean steal. I didn’t know much about Ravenwood Private Academy, only that the students belong to some of the wealthiest families in the country. I wasn’t stupid enough to attempt stealing from them, even if there weren’t cameras trained in my direction the whole climb up the steep drive. It would be obvious to anyone that the rich kid's designer shoes didn’t belong to me.

Finally, after much groaning on my part, I reach the top of the hill and head toward the grand archway that looms over the front door, only I don't get much further as my eyes catch something luminous orange. I had to do a double-take, notice for the first time the rows of swanky looking cars lined up in the parking lot, each one worth enough to feed a small village. There were custom-designed Land Rovers, a Rolls Royce and even an orange Lamborghini. I snort, wondering how the fuck they managed to drive a Lambo up that steep hill without destroying the bodywork. The car was so low it was barely legal.

“It’s ridiculous, right? Kids barely older than you or me owning cars worth more than most people earn in a year,” Remarked a short kid with frosty blue eyes. Hidden in the shadows of a pillared walkway that marked the edge of the stone building, I hadn't seen him until now. “You want to know the worst part? Most of these cars sit here untouched for three quarters of the year without ever being driven. It’s a fucking waste.”

I run an assessing eye over the kid. Although his clothes were simple; black jeans, black t-shirt and a black zip-up hoodie, it was obvious he came from money. Everything he wore looked as if it was made specifically for him, and all held designer labels. He even smelled like money. It instantly made me hate him a little, if only because of my own stupid misfortune for being born on the wrong side of the tracks.

“Not surprised. Ritch people don’t buy cars to drive them,” I dismiss with board disinterest. Before pulling an unlit cigarette from the inside of my hoodie pocket and rolling it between my fingers. It was crushed and wet yet hopefully, it would still light.

“You like cars?” the guy considered, not seeming to pick up on my blatant dismissal.

“Do I have a dick and balls?” I state rather than ask, not expecting an actual fucking answer. Instead, I turn my head away from the wind, cupping my hands as I attempt to light the stick between my teeth.

“I’d fucking hope so, mate; otherwise your one ugly girl.” he jokes, causing a snicker to break past my lips. The balls on this guy.

Finally, the sparks from my lighter ignite a flame, earning me a cloud of nicotine before the bloody thing hisses out. I curse under my breath and start over.

“I’m Alexander J Karter, by the way, but you can just call me Alex. Everyone does.” He says, offering me his hand as if that was supposed to mean something to me. But, unless his daddy was a rapper or an actor, the likelihood I would have heard of him was close to none.

“Jaydon,” I nod, leaving his hand hanging between us. Then, after a moment when it’s obvious I’m not going to take it, Alex draws his arm back and rummages through his pockets.

“Here,” He offers a moment later, holding out a packet of cigarettes with a Zippo wedged into the box. I frown at the smokes, surprised.

Sure, where I was from, it wasn’t uncommon for kids to start smoking as young as eleven and become addicted to meth or coke by the time they turned sixteen. But me and Alex had grown up in very different parts of the world, and he didn’t strike me as a rebellious type at all.

“What you thought only poor kids were allowed to break the rules?” Alex smirks, clearly amused by something I wasn’t understanding. He takes a cigarette and pops it between his teeth before flipping the zippo back and lighting up. “For the record, rich kids do more drugs than anyone else because they can afford it,” Alex explains, through a cloud of smoke, then holding out the packet to me again in silent offering. I consider him for a long moment wondering why he was telling me all this when he had no reason to be nice to me; hell, he didn't even know my last name. But I was in no position to turn down an ally. I had a feeling in a place like this, I would need all the friends I could get.

“Where did you get them,” I consider, tossing the old cigarette into the hedges and trading it for one Alex’s extends to me.

“There is a guy that sells them on campus, but I snatched this packet from mum’s secret stash.” Alex grins, taking another tug on his cigarette. “She doesn’t know I smoke, so do me a favour and keep it on the lowdown.”

“What does she do for work, your mom?” I consider, noticing he hadn’t meant his dad yet. Was he still in the picture?

“Honestly, I have no clue. She’s really hush-hush about her work. All I know is she has a lot of connections. But my guess it’s not exactly legal,” Alex grins, seeming oddly proud of that fact. “My dad, on the other hand, is from a long line of businessmen; he’s on the board of directors for some big oil company. What about you?” I stiffen at his question, looking down at my shoes as I suck on the end of my cigarette. Usually, I changed the subject when people asked where my parents were like I should be embarrassed about where I came from, but for some reason, I felt like Alex wasn’t the type of person to hold judgment.

“Not much to say. My dad’s in jail, and my Moms left me the first chance she got. I’ve been skating around in foster care ever since,” I admit, not meeting his gaze, instead I flick the end of my cigarette into the bushes. I didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes. The truth was I had never really been in one place long enough to make any real friends. People marked me as trouble before they even got to know me, so I played into what they saw; it was safer that way.

A car horn blares, startling us both. I turn around to find a cherry red 1967 ford mustang convertible pulling up the drive. A car I had been obsessed with thanks to the little toy one my dad brought me when I was a boy. It was the only thing he had ever given me—my jaw dropped.

“Awh shit,” Alex curses, stepping around me and quickly dropping the butt of his cigarette out of sight. “Hey, mom,” He calls out as the car rolls to a stop in front of me.

“Hey baby,” the driver beams, blowing air kisses to him. “Who’s your friend?” After a seconds delay, I snap my jaw shut, blinking several times as I take in the MILTF sitting in the driving seat. Not quite believing my eyes.

Mrs Karter, or Mia as she’s introduced herself, had the most beautiful smile I had ever fucking seen. Everything from her plump lips to her flimsy satin top and her fingernails were red—my new favourite colour.

I didn’t usually care about a girl’s hair, but something about her long silky waves begged me to run my hands through them. Her breasts were full and juice. What little I could see of her denim-clad thighs looked good enough to eat. Never before had my junk been so fucking hard so quickly.

I’d not been able to form a dam word as Alex introduced me to his mom, explaining that I was a new Scholarship student, even though I wish he hadn’t. But shockingly, Mrs Karter didn’t look down her nose at me.

“It was nice meeting you, Jaydon. I’m glad you decided to join the school’s program. Let us know if anyone gives you trouble. I know from experience how welcoming these people can be,” Mrs Karter offers with a wink. Having my name on her lips almost made me cum in my pants. Were all the moms in this school like her? God, I hope so.

“Thank you… Mrs Karter,” I reply in a rush, my voice breaking mid-sentence. What the hell was wrong with me? Stumbling over my words, being polite and shit? Mrs Karter’s attention was enough to make my palms sweat and a knot form in my stomach. Was it becoming harder to breathe? Was this what it felt like to fall in love? Wait, what was she saying?

“-Alex doesn’t board like the rest of the kids here, I’m afraid, what with us living so close to campus. But I’m sure we will see each other again soon. Alex is always bringing friends around at one time or another.”

I file that little bit of information away. Knowing I was going to make dam fucking sure I’d see her again, even if I had to sell my soul to become friends with Alex to summon her.