Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Striding through the gates, I started to feel the stares, but I ignored them. Acted like I was too good to acknowledge them. It worked at my old school, and I had to hope rich kids were programmed the same way. I followed signs for reception, wondering what my mum and stepdad would think of me being here.
They’d be proud. Really proud.
My chest tightened with pain that had dulled but never left me since I was twelve years old.
A receptionist looked up as I wandered into the office.
“Callan Keen. This is my first day.”
It was going all right, I supposed. They’d assigned a pupil called Aaron to show me around because he was on the football team too. He spoke with the poshest Scottish accent I’d ever heard. But he seemed all right. Maybe a wee bit too eager to get to know me. I didn’t want anyone to know me. I just wanted to play football. Problem was, you had to gel with your teammates. So when Aaron peppered me with questions about my life, I found myself lying. Instead of telling him I lived with my waste-of-space dad and stepmum in Sighthill, I told him I lived with my mum and stepdad in Leith. My mum had been a risk analyst at a big financial institution in the city center and my stepdad, who had raised me so he was just Dad, had been a high school maths teacher. It was the life I wished I still had, so I lied and pretended I did.
Aaron didn’t question it.
Like my old school where all my real mates were, Aaron explained that fifth and sixth year pupils shared classes, depending on what key stage they were at.
That’s how I met her.
I’d gotten to the history class early. I wasn’t really academic, but I liked history. I was good at maths because it came easy, but I was shit at subjects like English and geography. Problem was, I had to keep my grades up to keep the football scholarship. And this football scholarship was going to put me in front of professional league football teams looking for under 18s to nurture.
Taking the first seat I saw, I slumped down at the table and pulled out the iPad the head teacher had handed me. She’d warned me I wouldn’t be assigned another. Then she’d shown me where to find the digital “jotters” on the device. I tapped on the screen with the pen it came with. I’d heard some of the wealthier schools were switching to digital, but at my old school, we still used paper jotters and ink pens.
The chair next to me stayed empty as the class filled up.
“Everyone here?” the bloke standing in front of the whiteboard asked. “Right, let’s get started.”
That’s when she came practically barreling into the room. “Sorry I’m late, Mr. Fisher. Mrs. Ellis asked me to help her pull out her old projector.”
The teacher said something, but I wasn’t paying attention to anything but her.
She was fit as fuck.
Like, I think I stopped breathing.
“Fine. Take a seat.”
“Or you could sit on my lap.” A lad near the front grinned cockily at her. “Give me a wee lap dance.”
“Oliver …,” the teacher warned.
The gorgeous girl grimaced. “I’d sit on a hornet’s nest before I’d sit on your lap.”
“I don’t know. I think you’d like what you found in my lap.”
“Considering I’d need a microscope to find what’s in your lap, I think I’ll pass.”
My lips twitched at her comeback as the class laughed, and she coolly searched the room for an empty seat. Her attention landed on the empty chair next to me.
“Don’t say another word, Olly, or you’re out of my class,” the teacher warned as the girl started coming toward me, her long legs eating up the distance. Like most of the other lassies, she wore a tight black miniskirt with black tights along with her school shirt, tie, and blazer.
Her long, dark blond hair spilled down her shoulders in waves.
I held my breath as she dumped her backpack and slid into the chair beside me. She smelled like flowers.
She turned to look at me, and her stunning catlike pale blue eyes widened ever so slightly. “Hi,” she whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Somehow I managed to force out a hi in return.
The girl seemed to shake herself as she leaned down to pull her iPad from her backpack, along with a textbook I did not have. She seemed to realize that and leaned in to whisper, “Are you new?”
I nodded.
Her hand shot straight up.
“Yes, Beth?”
Beth.
Her name was Beth.
“My tablemate here is new, Mr. Fisher, and doesn’t have a textbook.”
I dragged my eyes off her gorgeous face to meet the teacher’s gaze.
“Oh. Right.” He glanced down at the computer screen on his desk. “Callan Keen, is that right?”