The Pretender - Cora Brent Page 0,7
like soap and peppermint. I have to wonder if he possesses some kind of ‘She Wants Me’ radar that can sense the way my thighs press together at his touch. If Ben was a nicer person then I’d be excited about being this close to him but as far as I can tell he’s not a nice person. He ignores the teachers, he parties with the most obnoxious players in school and he treats the opportunity of an elite education like one big cosmic joke.
Unfortunately, he also shares most of my classes and this morning he has decided it’s a cute idea to trail half a step behind me. I’m a little off balance after treating myself to some bus ride mental masturbation and I just want him to go away.
I walk faster.
He keeps pace.
I veer to the side.
He does the same.
Ben Beltran is making me look like a race walking fool for no good reason. All of a sudden I stop and breathlessly explode at him.
“What the hell, Ben?”
And he…
Smiles.
The jerk smiles.
He just keeps on smiling while I simmer.
I don’t even know the rules of the game we are playing but apparently he’s proud of himself for winning.
I turn and stroll into the building as if he isn’t shadowing my footsteps.
Ms. Carmody is right in the middle of a sentence when we walk through the classroom door. She frowns, obviously thinking we’ve been off somewhere together and up to no good. But instead of telling us to go to the office and get a pass she sighs and motions that we ought to take our seats.
“And one of the prevailing themes of Great Expectations is of course the timeless class struggle that still resonates today.”
I copy down the words ‘Class Struggle’ in my spiral notebook but I’m not really paying much attention to the content of the lecture.
I’m too busy fighting all my own worst instincts as they beg to turn around and stare at a guy I can’t stand.
Ben
A definite perk of Black Mountain Academy is the lunch menu.
At Devil Valley High it was necessary to sprint down to a grubby cafeteria that always smelled like sweaty feet and snag a wedge of gummy reheated pizza before they ran out. But here at BMA the cafeteria has a salad bar and a stir fry station. There is sushi and charbroiled hamburgers. Instead of hard picnic benches attached to chipped laminate tables we get to sit on decent furniture that isn’t covered with obscene graffiti. If you can’t find anything to your liking there are also some off-campus options but my scholarship includes a daily trip to the cafeteria so cafeteria food it is. Since no one in my house enjoys cooking it’s always the best meal I get every day.
I’m making short work of a plate full of hamburgers while trying to tune out the obnoxious din of people cackling and squealing and yelling and flirting. I hate crowds and generally I try to stay out of the way on the far end of the jock quadrant of the cafeteria where the football bruisers are mixed in with the hockey tough guys and those of us baseball slobs who don’t have much to do in the off season. Mike Huntington stops by long enough to steal one of my burgers. He’s a teammate and buddy but lately he’s all about the new girl, Violet, and I don’t see him around as much.
“Asshole,” I accuse.
His answer is a grin followed by a middle finger.
Two seconds after Mike’s departure Kent Dresher drops into the seat across from mine. He’s got nothing on his plate but a gigantic steak that looks practically bloody.
I bite down on a burnt French fry. “Dresher, where the hell did you get a steak?”
He rips off a hunk of meat. “I can get whatever the fuck I want, Beltran.”
Kent eats, sleeps and breathes hockey, a sport I’ve never had much use for. But we pal around often these days because we both have no appetite for bullshit and because I appreciate that good manners are not required in his presence. Damn if I can explain how he’s involved with classy, high achieving Trina Jackson. At first glance those two seem as compatible as oil and water but they’ve been together for some crazy amount of time. Two years, I think. There are many days when Kent spends lunch with her and the two of them sit at a center table and drool all over each other,