Laced Steel - M.J. Fields Page 0,1
physical harm, as well.
I was still training, just not at a school. I had a private instructor, Julie, who I met with three days a week for three hours before the move.
Justice was the only person, other than our parents, who knew my ugly truth.
But that’s all in the past, until moments like this when insecurity rears its ugly head again.
Back to The Seashore Sound …
The president of the student body, Tobias Easton, also HAF, but his scowl, even on a screen, was anything but inviting. He’s a senior, plays no sports, and when you click on the picture to get to his IG, you’ll see that it’s private. His profile picture was of him and a girl. I would have assumed it was his girlfriend, if they didn’t look similar.
Treasurer, Miles Jameson, good-looking. Dark brown hair and eyes, perfectly proportioned facial features—almost too perfect—and extremely preppy. He’s the debate and STEM team captain. His pictures were of family, travel, and food.
The last picture was the student government secretary, Kai Hatt. Tall, dark, handsome and, just like the others, hot. His IG pictures were all with the other boys that make up the student body government.
After getting past the face of the app, and having done enough swiping, I quickly realized that The Seashore Sound … was basically the equivalent of a gossip magazine or column. Nearly all the junior and seniors had a profile that, after reading, could not possibly have been of their own creation. Some were rude, so fucking rude it hurt my heart for the victims of the hate without even knowing them. It was a high-tech news rag. I’m assuming it’s mostly fake news used as the biggest bullying tool at Seashore.
The Sound also came equipped with a school and social event calendar, and if you’re one of “the chosen” to receive a special invitation code, via the app, which I have not been given, you get to unlock the members-only portion of The Sound, where you can give and receive all the info on last-minute parties, provided by the upper echelon, those who hold the power of the app and the highly coveted code.
My family is wealthy, just as wealthy as everyone else in that … school, but none of us carry a chip on our shoulders, drive Maseratis, or other vehicles with six-figure price tags, sport overpriced designer clothes just because we can, or look down our noses at anyone … undeserving. We don’t act like we are above everyone else. None of my crew were raised to act entitled and would quickly get our asses jacked by our parents, or any other member of the crew, if we started acting in such a way.
As miserable as I have been riding bitch for the past several months to a conniving snatch like Gabrielle Morales-Ortez, the “it” girl whose secret I am still keeping in my pocket in case I ever need to utilize it. Even after all the shit she’s pulled, I’m not capable of stooping so low as to expose her secret just to make myself feel better.
I’ve also since learned that Harrison Reeves is a self-absorbed ass who dates, or just sleeps with, Gabrielle Morales-Ortez yet ogles my ass every time we’re in the same vicinity, even in front of the girl he’s said to be banging.
The dirt I have on Gabrielle Morales-Ortez?
A few months ago, my cousin and best friend since birth, Kiki, was waiting in her little red BMW while I went into a local grocery store to grab snacks. While at the counter, checking out, I noticed the older gentleman clerk eyeing something behind me. Let me be honest here, I was expecting one of two things: a gunman or some hot MILF. Neither were what I saw when I glanced behind me.
What I got was a girl in a hoodie, starting to walk out the door with a loaf of bread and some peanut butter that, due to his reaction, I knew she hadn’t paid for.
“Hey, Karen”—I don’t know why I called her Karen; it was honestly the first name that popped in my head—“he’s gotta ring it up for me.” I looked back at the older man and told him, “She must have forgot.”
I paid for “Karen’s” shit and, as soon as we walked outside, I handed her the almost stolen goods. Instead of a simple thank you, or no words at all, she sneered, “Rot in hell” then took off.
Then, my first day at Seashore