Charity: Black Mountain Academy/Fortuity Read online

  “Same here,” I mumbled, my stomach roiling at the memory from five years ago when I got my first period. I’d bled through a pair of white pants in the middle of class, and my teacher sent me to the nurse’s office. The school tried to call my mother to ask her to bring in a change of clothes, but she didn’t answer. My dad was a two-hour drive away at a work meeting, but he picked up the instant he saw the school’s number on his caller ID. Since he couldn’t come rescue me and my mother didn’t answer his call either, he sent Marta in his place.

  Seeing how devastated I was, she decided a skip day was in order. When my mom got home from her spa appointment and found me curled up on the couch, eating a box of chocolates while watching a chick flick, she went ballistic. I’d gotten a lecture about sucking it up when things didn’t go my way—as though the aging beauty queen had any personal experience with being embarrassed in front of her peers. Then she went off about how I needed to be careful what I ate so I wouldn’t gain a ton of weight now that I’d have hormones to contend with.

  Once my mother finished ripping me to shreds, she’d turned her ire on Marta. She’d gotten an epic dressing-down about overstepping—and that was before she’d learned that “the help” had dared to sign me out of school without express permission to do so. Luckily, my dad came home right as she was telling Marta to pack her bags and not to expect a letter of recommendation. Although he usually let my mother have her way, he’d stood firm when I started sobbing and begged him not to send Marta away. I’d waited on pins and needles when he’d taken my mother aside to talk, and I still wasn’t sure how he’d convinced her to let the matter drop. Neither Marta nor I ever wanted to go through something like that again, so we’d been extra careful around my mother ever since.

  “I came up to let you know I just pulled a batch of freshly baked, flourless fluffernutter thumbprint cookies out of the oven.” Her dark eyes gleamed with mischievousness as she added, “But I’m not sure if you deserve any since you’re being a big chicken about that boy.”

  “Am not,” I huffed, my mouth practically watering for a taste of the cookies that by all rights should be gross. After my mother had gone on a gluten-free kick last month—it was just her newest weight loss craze and not because she had celiac disease or anything—Marta had taken pity on me by trying a bunch of different recipes for baked treats until she hit on a crazy good one. They were jam-packed with peanut butter and marshmallows, and she knew darn well I was addicted to them. Widening my eyes and sticking out my bottom lip, I waited for her to cave.

  “Fine, you can have a couple before your mother gets home.” Marta shook her head and wrapped her fingers around my bicep. “But only because I’m still holding out hope that you’ll get up the nerve to talk to the boy tomorrow at school. As the new kid, I’m sure he’ll appreciate a friendly face. You know how your classmates can be.”

  Brutal was the word that came to mind, especially when dealing with scholarship students. The guy I had been drooling over all summer long wasn’t going to attend Black Mountain Academy on scholarship, but he’d probably have more in common with them than the rest of us. His situation was unusual—my neighbors, the Whitneys, were covering his tuition since they were his new foster parents.

  The whole setup was super strange. Eleanor Whitney didn’t have a maternal bone in her body, and her husband, William, spent more time in his office than at home. Like most families in my parents’ circle, they tended to write checks to charity rather than giving their time. I didn’t know what had prompted them to sign up to become foster parents to a senior in high school of all people, but I was certain it wasn’t because they were suddenly overwhelmed with the need to open their home to some random person. “There hasn’t been anything going around the grapevine about him?”

  The hired help for the homes in our community were tuned in to gossip more than anybody else. They heard all sorts of things when nobody thought they were listening, and Marta had asked around about him for me as soon as she caught on to my interest in him. “As a matter of fact, there is.”

  That wasn’t the answer I was expecting, but I was excited to learn more. “Ooh, tell me!”

  She let go of my arm and lifted both hands in the air, palms up. Moving them up and down opposite of each other, she teased, “Cookies or information about the boy. Which will you choose?”

  “Both!” I cried, tugging on her arm to lead her out of my room. “You can tell me everything while I wolf down those cookies. If I don’t grab them now, I’ll be limited to one after dinner.”

  “I see how it is.” She pretended to drag her feet and laughed. “Use me for my treats and the stories I hear when I’m at the store.”

  “Hey! The street goes both ways here,” I protested. “I share all my romance novels with you, plus my streaming logins so you can watch hours upon hours of shows and movies.”

  “True,” she conceded with a smile as we made our way downstairs. “But that’s as much for you as it is for me because you like talking to me about your favorite books and shows.”

  I paused in the foyer and scanned her expression for any sign she wasn’t just playing around. There was nothing there, but I never wanted Marta to feel as though she wasn’t important to me. It didn’t matter that my parents paid her salary—as far as I was concerned, she was family. “Our friendship isn’t dependent on cookies or gossip. I’d miss chatting with you about books and movies I’ve enjoyed, but I wouldn’t care if you said you never wanted to read or watch the same thing as me again. You’re important to me, Marta. I’ll take you in my life however you want to be there.”

  “You’re important to me, too.” She beamed a big smile my way. “And not just because you’re wise beyond your years and one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.”

  I blushed a little at her compliment. “Only because I’ve had you and my dad for role models.”

  Not that he was around all that much. My mom was purposely neglectful, and he was schedule-challenged. But the household staff was for all that, as far as my mom was concerned. Raising me from a distance couldn’t possibly be wrong if so many of her peers were doing it too. It was the Black Mountain way of life; a sacrifice us kids made for all the material things our parents gave us instead of their time.

  “I guess you not taking after your mother is one good thing about her being so busy.” She gestured toward the new artwork my mom just had hung in the formal sitting room as we walked past. I’d long since grown used to the environment around me changing because every month, she liked to refresh a room. “But we really do need to find you more friends closer to your age.”

  “Yeah, that’s not going to happen until I get to college.” A lot of the girls at my school were busy competing for queen bee. I didn’t want to have anything to do with them—and they couldn’t care less about someone who wasn’t perfect. A quiet bookworm like me who wasn’t a size zero and didn’t care about the latest fashions didn’t fit in with that crowd. Being stuck with my mother tended to mess up my friendships with the less popular girls. As soon as their moms figured out who I was—or more accurately, whose daughter I was—hanging out became more difficult. Their moms were worried about being forced to spend time with mine—either because they were higher up on the social ladder and didn’t want to deal with her attempts to suck up to them or my mom considered them beneath her and they didn’t want to deal with her less than subtle insults.

  I had spent a lot of time wishing that those moms knew that would never happen. My mother hadn’t done girl stuff with me or even picked me up from anything in longer than I could remember. But I’d given up trying to explain the situation with her to anyone back in my freshman year after I realized it wasn’t worth the effort. Nobody ever really listened. Luckily, my two best friends from kindergarten had stuck with me.

  “Thank goodness you only have one more year to go,” Marta sighed, marching across the kitchen to place two cookies on a plate and hand it to me.

  I was so excite
d about leaving for college that I’d already started working on my applications even though the first one wasn’t due for another four months. Most of the schools I was looking at were least half a country away from home, and my hope was to move onto campus early. I couldn’t wait to get out from under my mother’s thumb, but I sure would miss some of the advantages of home—like Marta’s kitchen skills.

  I bit into one of the cookies she gave me and stared at her expectantly, waiting to find out what she’d learned.

  “His name is Corby.”

  With how she was acting, I expected more than just his name. “What? That’s it?”

  She threw her hands up and laughed. “It’s more than you’ve learned about the boy without my help, and you’ve been watching him for two months.”

  “You make an excellent point.” Munching on my cookie, I grinned and shrugged.

  Dropping an extra cookie on my plate, she wagged her finger at me. “Your senior year is the perfect time to take risks. Talking to a boy you like is a great place to start.”

  She was probably right, but I couldn’t imagine a situation where I’d stick my neck out like that. Especially not with the rest of the students at Black Mountain Academy looking on.

  2

  Corby

  “Are you looking forward to your first day at BMA?” William asked, striding into the dining room dressed in one of the three-piece suits he wore practically around-the-clock. It wasn’t even seven in the morning, but he was ready to head to his office. Not that I was surprised since the guy tended to spend twelve-plus hours there on weekdays, and somehow still had work to do on the weekends. After living with him and his wife for the past two months, I still wasn’t sure if he spent so much time away from his home because making millions of dollars required that or if he just wanted a break from the aging supermodel who tried to cling to him like a barnacle. Or maybe some of those hours in the office were a cover for the mistress I suspected he kept on the side. I had a feeling Eleanor was holding on tight because she feared her time as Mrs. Whitney was coming to an end.

  “Nah, but I’m not dreading it, so I’m calling this morning a win.” Starting my senior year at a new school—let alone a fancy private academy full of kids who had nothing in common with me—would have been a fuck of a lot more intimidating if I hadn’t gotten to know the guys on the team already. The Cougars had a club team that played over the summer until regular season practices picked up a few weeks ago, and William had signed me up for it the day after I’d moved to Black Mountain. The hockey world around here was pretty small, so I’d played against—and even on the same team in a few cases—pretty much all of my new teammates at some point over the years. I wouldn’t say I was close friends with any of them yet, but at least they hadn’t been dicks. Hazing the new kid was pretty standard in hockey locker rooms, but they didn't try to pull anything with me.

  Their welcome probably had to do with the fact that Coach Clark was thrilled to have me on the team. He was a former pro player, and the guys knew he brought a fuck of a lot more than his excellent coaching skills to the table. Playing for the Cougars meant getting looked at by a lot of scouts because of his connections, which was one of the reasons I’d jumped at the chance to move in with the Whitneys. If this season was as good as my last, I had a decent chance at getting drafted before I started college. If I could make it another four years without any serious injuries, this foster placement could be the key to my chance to play professional hockey. I was willing to put up with just about anything for that opportunity—not that being waited on hand and foot in a mansion was a fucking hardship.

  William sat down on the chair at the head of the table. “Coach Clark tells me that you're playing even better than last year.”

  “Yeah, it's amazing what a difference top-of-the-line equipment can make.” I shoveled another bite of my omelet into my mouth, thinking that the organic, well-balanced diet I’ve been eating lately must have helped too. I was in better shape than I’d ever been in my life. My wrist and slap shots had definitely benefited from the ten pounds of muscle I’d packed on.

  “I wouldn’t know,” he chuckled. “In my day, we had wooden sticks. None of that fancy composite stuff you boys use today.”

  I’d played my fair share of games with a cheap wooden stick, too. Once I’d outgrown my teammates a couple of years ago, none of them could give me their old ones anymore. When Coach Clark had gotten a look at my equipment the first time I showed up for club team practice, he’d shoved a new stick at me and growled something about needing to replace everything. The next morning when I was getting ready to head to the rink, I found a new bag with top-of-the-line skates, pads, gloves, and a helmet. I had no clue where it had come from or how all that stuff was in the right sizes for me to use, but I hadn’t asked any questions because I didn’t want to rock the boat. And sure as fuck not over something that was a bonus for me.

  One of the maids came in and poured William a cup of coffee while I wolfed down the egg white and veggie omelet the chef had made for me. When she left to get him his breakfast, he slid a car key fob across the table toward me. “What’s this for?”

  William smiled at me over his coffee cup. “Consider it another notch in the win column for today.”

  I glanced down at the emblem on the fob. “I didn’t know you had a Jeep. Is there another garage around this place that I missed?”

  It was a fair question since the six-car garage was packed with vehicles, but William laughed and shook his head. “No, but I figured you could park on the driveway.”

  “You’re letting me drive it?” Picking up the fob, I clenched it in my fist. I’d gotten my driver’s license a little more than a year ago, but only because my foster parents needed my help with toting the other kids around sometimes. I hadn’t been behind the wheel since I’d moved to Black Mountain, but it wasn’t a problem since the only place I’d really gone by myself over the past two months was the rink. There was no reason to leave—not when my new home had a workout room, pool, hot tub, home theater, putting green, full-time chef, and even a fucking bowling alley in the basement. And Coach Clark had arranged for one of the guys who lived nearby, Chuck, to pick me up after the first week of club hockey when he found me waiting around for the Whitney’s chauffeur an hour after everyone else had left the rink. It turned out that Eleanor had decided she didn’t want to drive herself to the spa that day, so the driver had been running way behind since it was all the way on the other side of town. I didn’t mind catching rides from Chuck, but access to a vehicle would be a serious improvement since Black Mountain didn’t have many public transportation options.

  “That’s why I got the Jeep.” He set his coffee cup down and tapped his fingers against the gleaming surface of the wood table. “The dealership took longer to get the model I wanted. I bought the vehicle more than a month ago, but they didn’t deliver it until last night. You shouldn’t have been without a car this long, but I didn’t feel as though any of mine were a good fit for you.”

  Damn straight, they weren’t. The cheapest vehicle he owned was an S-class Mercedes that came with a low six-figure price tag. I hadn’t gotten to know William all that well in the time I’d lived under his roof, but I’d quickly figured out two things: he was obsessed with hockey and cars. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to judge him for his passions since I’d gained a lot because of them. “Thank you doesn’t seem like enough. Not with everything you’ve done for me.”

  The maid returned and placed a plate with eggs Benedict in front of him. He waited until she stepped back to wave off my gratitude. “Things are bound to get hectic with your schedule between school, practices, and games. The Jeep will make everyone’s lives easier, not just yours.”

  “I’m sure it will,” I agreed, not about to argue with William and risk him changing his mind. Driving myself to school sounded a hell of a lot better than hitching a ride with Chuck. I didn’t have much control over my life for the past four years. I’d been
forced to depend on strangers for everything from the roof over my head to the food in my belly. It might sound strange to others since William was lending me the Jeep, but being able to drive myself places gave me some of that control back.

  William tapped the face of his Patek Philippe watch. “You’d better get going, or you’ll be late. It’s my understanding that your guidance counselor arranged for someone to show you where each of your classes are before the first bell.”

  Shit. I’d forgotten I needed to be there early today since I’d already gotten a tour of the school when we’d gone in to meet with the guidance counselor about my schedule. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I finished my glass of orange juice and headed up to my room to grab my stuff. It still felt weird to leave my dirty dishes on the table, but I had already been reminded many times that the staff was there to take care of shit like that for me. After changing out of the athletic shorts and T-shirt I’d worn to bed, I stared at myself in the mirror in the bathroom I had all to myself—another luxury I’d quickly grown used to after sharing with other people in every foster home I’d lived in. The preppy-looking guy—dressed in khaki pants and a white polo with the BMA crest stitched on the left side in red—staring back at me seemed like a stranger. The only time I usually dressed up was for hockey games, and that was because it had been a team requirement. I was much more comfortable in casual clothes, but the school had a dress code. At least it would allow me to blend in a little; being the new guy as a senior was bound to make me stand out like a sore thumb. Especially since I didn’t come from money like everyone else.

  Shaking off my broody thoughts, I grabbed my backpack and jogged down the stairs and out the door. When I spotted the shiny, firecracker red Jeep Wrangler Unlimited parked out front, I stopped dead in my tracks. “Holy fuck.”