a functioning alcoholic—bloated and sallow. He’s definitely a guy who still lives with his mother…and the cats.
“I do have one more item, Mr. McCallister. The alumnae are recognizing your father at our booster event in October. I thought you’d like to prepare something to say.”
As I think about how to answer, my eyes drift around his office, spotting a framed picture of a much older gray-haired woman on the bookcase behind him. There’s Mommy. Jesus fucking Christ, it’s in a cat frame. I should leave him a loaded gun on his desk tomorrow.
I bring my eyes back to his worn face and shake my head. “Unnecessary. I won’t be attending. They’ll have to circle jerk alone.” Walking to the door, I glance back expectantly to his stunned face. “I assume we’re going to the front steps…? To meet our new friend? Or are you going to stand there all day?”
“Decorum, Mr. McCallister” is all he says, as he rounds his desk, walking toward the door.
“Right.” I half laugh. “After you, Dean Pritchett.” I smile wide, opening the door for him, and file out behind.
We walk past some secretarial desks and wind through the bland offices, taking a long hallway to a set of double doors that lead to the main entrance of the school.
Kids are milling about before classes, playing on their phones and socializing; the first day always starts with a late start. So the atmosphere is relaxed. Their eyes all dart to me as I walk past them, probably wondering what I’m doing and why I’m with the dean.
If this school had a royal court, I’d be the king. The reality is, this school is a snapshot of the world, and McCallister is my crown, even if it’s heavy on my head.
It’s not something I asked for or even worked for, just the natural order of things.
But to the victor go the spoils and all that shit. I pass one of those spoils and my eyes drift over her busty frame as she gives me a tiny wave. “Oh my God” is whispered by her friend as I exit the building, their giggles fading away.
The moment we exit, the sun makes my eyes squint, but the air is crisp, the way it always is at the beginning of September. I tip my face up, closing my eyes, wishing I was on the water, rowing. It’s the perfect weather for it. I should’ve blown off the Yale meeting yesterday and gone with Liam.
Dean Pritchett’s footsteps echo as he walks down the six or so steps to a circular drive to wait for the car that’s approaching, but I hang back. I haven’t any interest in making a good impression on his behalf. Anyone worth knowing already attends Hillcrest, so whoever this Darren is, is already unimpressive.
I rest my hip against the iron stair railing and bring my hand up to my forehead in an attempt to shield my eyes, watching the car getting closer. I can’t help but internally count the minutes. I want this little deed done and over.
The road that leads into the school is long and flanked by trees full of changing leaves. The crimsons, yellows, and burnt oranges that fill the backdrop heighten the beauty of the sky and add to the grandeur of the school.
It’s meant to set the tone for this institution, and it does.
I think back to my first ride in. It’s something we all remember—it feels as if the possibilities for your life are endless. Once you’re here, it’s only then that you realize all those “possibilities” are a lie. This institution breeds legacies, not dreamers.
“Hey,” Liam’s voice calls over my shoulder.
We clasp hands, bumping shoulders hello.
“Dean’s got you doing upkeep, huh? He needed a pretty face?” he jokes, poking at my cheek as I smack his hand, making him laugh.
I stare at the car, and Liam’s eyes follow my gaze.
“Don’t be jealous. I can’t help that I’m superior to you in every way. But now we get to demolish Red Oak. You’re welcome, dick.” Turning my head and raising my eyebrows, I’m waiting for the justifiable gratitude.
“No shit, boss. But we could’ve done it, anyway, go off-campus. Fuck the dean,” he counters, leaning against the opposite rail, looking arrogantly at me.
“Now we don’t have to. Instead of winning in secret, everyone gets to watch them lose.”
He might be my best friend, but he’s impulsive and a pain in the ass sometimes—just like a real brother would be. But that’s what