Butterflies & Vicious Lies (Fractured Rhymes Book 1)

FIFTEEN YEARS OLD

I’M SO proud of my dad for getting his dream job but switching schools in the middle of my freshman year of high school is less than ideal. With Dad’s newly-appointed title of police captain comes a lot of new connections. Like the Mayor. He himself pulled strings to get me enrolled in the best private school in Dad’s new district.

My dad is ecstatic about the opportunity while I’m still coming to grips with it. Henry Davenport has always lectured the importance of a good education, and I’m thankful I am lucky enough to receive a scholarship to Hemlock Hill Academy but walking into this school feels like I’m walking into a wolves’ den.

That is if the den were a state-of-the-art institute made of overpriced marble and glass.

We live a very comfortable life, and I’ve never wanted for anything, but compared to the affluent families who send their children to this school, my dad makes pennies.

Pulling up in my dad’s police-issued SUV makes me feel like I don’t belong. Every car in this parking lot is flashy and expensive. I’ll never understand why teenagers need to drive luxury imports. Many, if not all of them, drive newer and more luxurious cars than the teachers and staff.

A group of girls walks by our car, each of them with a high-end bag over their shoulder and red-soled heels on their feet. Everyone here wears variations of the same black, white, and navy-blue uniform, but it’s accessories like theirs that differentiate them from the scholarship kids like me.

“Dad,” I gripe, sinking lower into the leather of the passenger seat. “Why couldn’t I have just stayed at my school?”

He sighs, hand shifting on the steering wheel. “P, we’ve been talking about this for two weeks. This will be good for you and look amazing on your applications for college. It might also help your chances of getting into that fancy school in Massachusetts you want to attend.”

His last point is why I’d reluctantly agreed to transfer schools—not that I really had a choice in the matter.

My goal since I was in my very first ballet class was to attend Juilliard. I’ve dedicated my life to dance and have done everything in my power to boost my chances of achieving my dream. The performing arts boarding school located in Massachusetts has given many students just like me a leg up in being accepted to Juilliard. The application process is competitive, and my chances of getting in are slim, but I haven’t given up hope.

The director of my current ballet academy has gone as far as to reach out to her contacts in the industry in hopes of having them write recommendation letters for my application. Now it’s just a waiting game, and I could be waiting up to a year to hear from them.

“I just… I don’t know these people.” The students at the public high school I should be attending are the same students I went to elementary and middle school with. I may not have been extremely close to any of them, but there was at least mutual history between us.

Dad moves up in the drop-off line we’re waiting in. With each inch we move closer to the front of the impressive building, the harder my heart pounds with nerves. I can stand in front of a theater with hundreds in attendance and not blink an eye but walking into this new school is making my skin crawl.

“You’re not going to be alone.” Dad gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “The boys are here. They’ll show you around.”

I don’t know about that.

We’ve known the Blackwell family for as long as I can remember. I’m pretty sure Paxton and I took our first steps together. With Dad’s long shifts at the station, I’ve spent a lot of time at the Blackwells’ house. Hell, one of their spare bedrooms has practically been given to me since there are a lot of nights Dad can’t make it to pick me up. Their mother, Mollie, is the closest thing I’ve had to a mother since my own left when I was two.

Pax was more than excited when I told him I’d be transferring to his school. Rafferty got quiet and didn’t say anything. His cold blue eyes raked over me before he had silently left the room. I don’t think he liked the idea of me intruding on his world any more than I already do.

Sometimes, the look on his face makes me think he just barely tolerates my existence, that my just breathing the same air as him is somehow offensive. Other times, his intense blue stare examines me like he’s slowly uncovering every inch of me. Like he knows every secret and piece of my soul. It makes my heart thud and palms sweat. Sometimes, I don’t think he realizes that he’s looking at me in such a way. When he catches himself, the change is almost instant—like flipping a switch. If you blink, you could miss it entirely.

I wish I could read his mind and know what he’s thinking when he looks at me like that, but Rafferty Blackwell has always been good at keeping his emotions close to the vest.

“Yeah, I guess.”

We finally reach the front of the drop-off line and I undo my seat belt. Dad pipes up again just as my fingers brush against the door handle. “Don’t forget that I’m working late tonight. Mollie will be here to pick you guys up after school, and when my shift is over, I’ll pick you up from their house.”

I laugh at this. “By Mollie, you obviously mean her driver, right?” Mollie Wilde-Blackwell doesn’t drive herself. It’s just another mundane task she hires staff for. I’m not fully convinced she brushes her own teeth.

Dad’s face pinches behind his reflective sunglasses. “Yes, I suppose I mean her driver.”

My dad might be surrounded by crazy-rich families like the Blackwells, but he’s retained the hard-working, blue-collar views he was raised with. Their way of life is as foreign to him as this school is to me.

“Have a good first day, honey.” He waves at me while I climb from the car. “See you tonight.”

The Suburban drives away and I’m officially left to face this all alone. I have no idea where Paxton is, and I don’t want to look weak by texting him to meet me out here.

It’s just school, Posie. You made it through Mrs. Vasilisa’s advanced pointe class and her harsh critiques unscathed. You can make it through a basic day of school.

Forcing myself to fake the same level of confidence I have while I’m on stage, I lift my chin and start up the front steps of my new school.

The entire time I walk down the main corridor to the wing where my locker is, I feel eyes on me. People look at me and whisper to their friends. The students that attend this school come from families that all know each other. It’s not very often that ‘outsiders’ like myself become new students here.

The same group of girls that walked past our car are leaning against a set of blue lockers. Their judgmental gazes rake over me, looking for flaws or evidence that I don’t belong here. I know they’ve found something when the gorgeous redhead in the middle smirks and whispers something to the girl next to her.

Grinding my teeth together so I don’t turn around and say something I’ll regret, I force myself to keep walking. My only goal for today is to stay as far under the radar as possible and confronting them is a surefire way to obliterate that plan.

It’s not until I reach my locker that I relax a little. Stashing my canvas backpack inside, I grab my class schedule I printed out last night and the books I’ll need for my first class. Of course, it’s math. I suck at math. The idea of writing three back-to-back essays for English is more appealing than taking one algebra final. I’ll never understand why they felt the need to put the alphabet in math. It was an unnecessary and rude move if you ask me.

With the things I need in hand, I begin to close the metal door, but my hand retracts almost instantly when it’s shoved closed by the person who’s appeared at my side.

Startled, I step back from them. This action only makes the cocky smile on the blond guy’s face grow.

“A little skittish, huh?” he muses, dark brown eyes exploring my face. “Don’t worry, fresh-meat, we’ll make you feel welcome here in no time.” The cluster of his friends that stand behind him laughs at this, only further boosting his clearly out-of-control ego. Fucking rich pricks. “Where’s your next class? I’ll show you the way.”

He reaches for the printed schedule in my hand, but I tuck it behind my back before he can grab it.

“That’s okay.” If he’d bothered to look closer, he’d find how unimpressed I am by his behavior, but I don’t think this dude often looks past himself. “I can find my own way. Thank you for offering…” I trail off, not knowing his name.

“Bryce Fitzgibbons.” He says his name with such pride, and his eyes examine me as if they’re waiting for me to have some kind of reaction to hearing it. Like I should automatically fall all over myself at this information.

Meanwhile, all I can think is Bryce sounds like a name perfectly suited for an absolute douche. Which means his parents really manifested their son’s attitude when they put it on his birth certificate. Let’s be real, it’s almost as unflattering as Chad.

Not about to further assist his inflated ego, I keep my indifferent expression firmly in place. “Cool.” I nod once. “Well, Bryce, I’m going to go find my class now.” My attempt to walk past him is halted when he slides in front of me again.

“I didn’t catch your name.” The grin on his face reminds me of one a slimy politician would wear. Disgust bubbles in my stomach at the sight of it. “And I’m very interested in knowing it, seeing as you’re the goddamn prettiest scholarship kid that’s ever walked through those doors. I bet your name is as pretty as the rest of you.”

Like a storm moving in, a dark shadow falls over us. The postures of the students standing about instantly stiffen and the energy becomes tense, like they’re bracing for impact.

“You don’t need to know her name.” A voice comes from behind me—one I would recognize anywhere. “You don’t need to concern yourself with a fucking thing when it comes to her, Fitzgibbons.”

While everyone else around us is shying away, I step closer to his body but don’t dare touch him. It doesn’t matter how long I’ve known him, it doesn’t feel like it’s something that’s allowed. He put an invisible boundary between us, and I definitely won’t be the first one to cross it.

Bryce holds his hands up in mock-surrender. “Hey, I was just trying to welcome her to the school.” That stupid cheeky smile remains in place. “Just consider me Hemlock Hill’s very own welcome wagon.”

“Go welcome someone else. Your services aren’t needed here.”

The preppy douchebag’s face hardens. “I just wanted to be nice and lend a helping hand to our newest student. I don’t see why you felt you needed to interfere, Rafferty.” Frankly, I’m not sure why Raff is interfering either. I was under the impression he’d feed me to the wolves the first chance he got. “Had I known I’d be stepping on toes, I never would have approached her. If you want the poor scholarship girl for yourself, just say so.”

My dad has raised me to be compassionate but to also have a backbone. I don’t let people talk to me or about me like that. I begin to step forward, prepared to put this asshole in his fucking place, but I barely get my foot off the ground before Rafferty shifts around me, putting himself between us.

He’s sixteen, but Rafferty holds himself in a way that makes him appear bigger and older. I’ve seen grown men look at him with caution in their eyes.

When I said that Rafferty holds his emotion close to the vest, I meant it, but on the rare occasion he decides to show how he feels, it’s never in a good way. It’s always anger. He never shows the good, only the bad and ugly.

The smiles that have graced his handsome face as of late haven’t been genuine ones. The ones I have seen have been cruel or taunting. He’s always had a chip on his shoulder, but it’s started to grow over the past year.

“Do you really want to piss me off?” Rafferty’s voice is so low and steady it sends chills down my spine. But not in fear. It’s something … else. “You and I both know what an unwise choice that is, but if you really feel like going there, that’s fine with me.”

Bryce laughs at this, and he shrugs it off like he’s not nervous. The way his eyes dart around, looking for a teacher or administrator to help gives away his false bravado though.

Rafferty laughs at this blatant move. A cold, menacing sound. “You think they’ll come to your rescue and stop me? No one will stop me. They wouldn’t fucking dare. Know why?” Bryce’s friends have all dispersed and taken several steps away as a precaution. “Because when I say my name, it fucking means something. You think you’re someone because your car-salesman daddy came into a little money when your grandma croaked? That name you’re so goddamn proud of means nothing. No one here gives a shit about the Fitzgibbons.” His chin nods ever so slightly in my direction. “And she certainly doesn’t give a fuck who you are or what your name is.”

Still not backing down, Bryce forces a smirk to stay on his face. “Yeah? Had you not interfered, I’m sure I could have made her care. Would have been easy enough. Girls like her are easily impressed.”

Under his school-issued black button-down, the one he wears with the sleeves rolled up and his required tie and blazer nowhere in sight, Rafferty’s spine stiffens. I’ve seen this happen before and expect him to charge Bryce, but he remains firmly placed in front of me.

“The next time I catch you prancing around her, boasting like a fucking peacock, I will remind you just how inconsequential you really are. Like an ant under my shoe, you’ll remember where you stand on the food chain.”

Point expertly made, Rafferty decides he’s done here. Without looking at me, his hand reaches back and locks around my wrist. With a harsh yank, he pulls me away from the gawking students and faculty and past a now-pale Bryce. The look on his face would be funny if Raff hadn’t just ruined my plans. This isn’t how I wanted to start my first day at this new school. My wish for a low profile has effectively gone out the goddamn window. Before the end of this period, everyone in the building will know that Rafferty Blackwell stood up for the new scholarship kid.

And they’ll be just as confused as I am.

Rafferty charges through the hallways, not bothering to get out of anyone’s way. Like an incoming bullet train, people jump out of his way to not get run over. My attempts to yank my wrist free are futile and I’m forced to jog awkwardly behind him.

“Raff…” I try to get his attention, but my soft call to him goes unheard in the bustle of the hallway. People stare at us as we pass, brows furrowed and mouths slightly agape. All he’s doing is furthering the whispers and rumors that will be said about me. Needing to put a stop to this, and try and do some damage control, I yank harder against his grip. “Rafferty.”

Finally, he comes to a stop and whirls around toward me.

“What the hell was that?” I try to ask, but the harshness I find on his face tells me that I won’t be getting an answer.

The iciness in his eyes isn’t new to me. It reminds me of the glaciers in the arctic. They’re just as cold and uninhabitable. “You need to stay away from him.”

Wrist now free of his bruising hold, I coddle it in my other hand and hold it against my chest.

“I’ll try my hardest, but I make no promises. You know that polo shirt and boat shoe-wearing douchebags are totally my type.” My attempt to lighten the mood completely fails and Raff’s face only grows darker. More threatening.

“You think I’m joking?” He takes a step toward me and his chin tips toward his chest so he can continue to hold my gaze captive. “Stay the fuck away from him, Posie. Actually, stay away from all of them.”

Irritation flares in my chest, and the lighthearted smile I’d been wearing falls and a scowl takes its place. “From all of them? So, what, Raff? You don’t want me to make any friends while I’m here?”

“You have Paxton.”

I hide the slight flinch that he’s only including Pax and not himself. It should be something I’m used to by now, but somehow it still hurts. I don’t know what I ever did to make Rafferty so standoffish and bitter toward me.

“Pax and I only have two classes together. We don’t even share a lunch period.” The idea of sitting alone in the lunchroom makes my stomach drop.

There isn’t a glimmer of sympathy on his face. His expression remains completely passive and his posture rigid. “Do what I say and go to class, Butterfly.”

Rafferty has no idea what kind of reaction my body has when he calls me that. It’s like by simply speaking the word into existence, he summons a swarm of them to erupt in my stomach. Their wings beat violently against my ribs, demanding I acknowledge them. He’s the only one who calls me Butterfly, and even if he only uses the moniker on rare occasions, the intensity of my reaction is always the same.

Feeling ballsy, I lift my chin and plant my feet. “Why do I have to do what you say?”

I don’t know if it’s the lingering agitation from the confrontation with Bryce or the fact that I just challenged him, but something flickers in his eyes. Without a word, he takes another step forward and claims more of my personal space as his own. The boldness I’d been feeling just seconds ago evaporates into thin air from his nearness.

His voice lowers as he challenges, “Do you really want to find out what happens if you don’t listen to me?”

One question is all it takes for me to lose the ability to speak. My stunned silence is precisely the answer he wanted, and with one last lingering examination of my face, the corner of his mouth lifts in the faintest hint of a smirk.

“That’s what I thought.”

With that, he spins on his heel and stalks down the hallway with his usual arrogant nonchalance. He walks away like what just happened was normal when it was anything but.