Elite, p.2Part #1 of Eagle Elite series by Rachel Van Dyken
The two guys who had been standing back from us waved and then flipped me off.
“That’s how they say hello,” Nixon explained. “Alright, Chase, it seems our job here is done. Oh and, Farm Girl, don’t forget. Classes start tomorrow. Welcome to Hell.”
Four tears. I counted them. I only let four escape, which was pretty good considering the circumstances.
I left my suitcase outside and prayed it wouldn’t get stolen or run over or anything, and took the box from my grandma into the building with me.
My purse kept banging against the box, making the contents shift inside. I tried to put everything in one hand in order to use my finger to look at the map of the place. The United States room was on the third floor in the right wing.
I looked around for an elevator but didn’t see a sign or even a place to put one. Blowing the hair out of my face, I jimmied the door open to the stairs and made my very slow ascent to the third floor.
By the time I reached the third floor door I knew three things. One, I was horribly out of shape. Two, I should have eaten something this morning, and three, apparently I was the only one checking in right now. I didn’t see anyone else, which was weird. But then again, maybe they were already in their rooms.
I jerked the door open, again balancing everything in one hand, and walked down the hall to the right wing.
The door to the stairs slammed behind me, and slowly people began trickling out of their rooms. Girls who looked more like my Barbie than a real person openly stared at me. Some cursed in my direction, and others just smirked as if they knew a giant secret that I didn’t.
I kept my eyes focused ahead of me even though I knew I looked a mess. I was sweating, my hair was falling all over my dripping face, and my hands kept slipping on the box.
Finally, I saw the end of the hall and a sign that said The United States.
“Thank God,” I whispered under my breath.
I placed the box on the floor and dropped my purse next to it.
The girls had yet to say one word to me unless it was derogatory, and now they were watching me as if something terrible was about to happen.
Dear God please don’t let there be some scary clown hiding in my closet. I’d probably jump out the window and kill myself in the process.
I reached for the door and turned the handle. Nothing happened.
I pushed against it.
Again, nothing happened.
Finally, I used all the strength I had left in me and slammed my body against the door. It flew open before my body made full contact, sending me sailing onto the floor.
My head landed smack onto a pair of shiny expensive boots. Boy boots to be exact. I hated those boots, because for some reason I knew that they had to belong to a boy. And if any boy was waiting in my room, it had to be one of the Elect trying to make my life hell.
Speaking of, how in the heck did they make it up here so fast?
Girls giggled as I slowly pushed myself to my knees and looked up into Nixon’s perfect face.
Of course it was Nixon.
He offered his hand, but right before I took it, he put on a glove.
“Germs, you understand.” He winked.
Maybe it was because I was tired. Maybe it was because I was going insane with stress, but instead of taking his hand, I slapped it away and got to my feet on my own.
People gasped behind me.
Muscles twitched in Nixon’s jaw. “Leave us,” he barked.
The sound of doors slamming down the hall may as well have been nails in my social coffin. One, two, three, six… I closed my eyes and waited.
My door was the final one to close, but I hadn’t done the deed. No it was Nixon, and now he was behind me.
“You don’t like rules, do you, New Girl?” he whispered in my ear. He wasn’t touching me, but my body shivered involuntarily anyways. Treacherous hormones.
“There is one, final, rule.” Nixon moved from behind me and was now standing a foot away from me.
“What?” My voice sounded braver than I was feeling.
He closed the distance between us. I backed up, he pursued.
The cool metal door met my back making me shiver. My sweat had run cold and now I was completely terrified.
“You earn the right to use what we have. The elevators are locked. The Elect have copies of the key card. The pools, the weight rooms — everything you have access to, even your food — has a key card.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue key card and dangled it in front of me. “Say thank you.”
“For what?” I would not cry. I would not cry!
“Allowing you to eat, of course.”
“I’m not finished talking,” he said smoothly. “This key card gains you access into the elevator only once a week. It also gains you access into the cafeteria, twice a day. Not three times. We don’t want you gaining weight. Use it wisely and if you impress me with your ability to follow directions. I may just up your freedom. Until then…” He shrugged and cleared his throat. “Move aside.”
I couldn’t move. It felt like a nightmare. Who the hell was this guy, and seriously, who made him the president of the school? I was afraid to talk to anyone. Afraid to do anything except stand there and stare at the card in my hand. It said E. E., but it may as well have said Nixon’s.
“Move aside,” Nixon repeated, this time his teeth were clenched together. I jerked up my head and looked at him. I mean, really looked at him. His eyes were a crystal blue, like the fires of hell had frozen over and the ice staring back at me was the result of orange flames dying slowly. His entire face was symmetrically perfect. As if some famous supermodel and actor decided they should create a love child and programmed perfection in a computer. His hair fell over his forehead haphazardly.
Nixon slammed his hand on the door above my head.
Okay, that was it.
I could take someone talking down to me. I could take someone making fun of me… I mean, hello? I knew I wasn’t anything important, but for someone to threaten me with violence? To my face? Especially some guy souped up on steroids? Hell. No.
Something snapped. I pushed against his chest. He stumbled backward, the look on his face changed from complete anger to disbelief.
“Did you just touch me?”
“You threatened me.”
“I threaten everyone.”
“Then you’re a bully.”
He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut again. A wicked smile played across his lips. “So you wanted to touch me?”
“No, I want you to leave me the hell alone.”
“Please?” I begged looking directly into the depths of his soulless eyes.
“Hell. No,” he whispered and then moved past me and jerked open the door. A girl was waiting outside. He backed into my room and slammed the door again.
“I thought you were leaving.”
“Change of plans,” he muttered and then went over to the window and flung it open.
“What, you’re going to shimmy down the drain pipe?” I joked nervously. If this guy stayed any longer in here I was going to kill him myself.
“Nixon, open the damn door!” the girl screamed from the other side.
He laughed and stepped out of the window onto the ledge.
“Are you insane?” I yelled at him and grabbed his shirt. I would not be witness to his death, even as deserving as it may be.
“Hands off,” he barked, and then he was flying through the air. Holy hell, I’ve made him commit suicide.
“Nixon!” I yelled and looked over the ledge. On the grass, was a giant blown up tarp. Nixon landed on his back and then jumped off of it. He blew me a kiss and jogged off. Several tents and tarps were set up outside the dorm. It almost looked like a carnival.
The girl was still banging on my door. I rushed over to open it. She breezed
“I like you,” I said out loud.
“Did he hurt you?” The girl swallowed nervously and examined me head to toe, looking at my neck, and my arms.
“He’s the spawn of Satan,” she grumbled.
“And you are?”
She grinned and held out her hand. “Monroe. I’m Satan’s sister.”
Monroe could be a supermodel. No, I take that back. She should be the girl that tells supermodels how to be supermodels. She was ridiculously beautiful, making my mind immediately transport to every single book I’d read in the past year that warned me against girls who looked like her.
This girl was like a walking advertisement to horny guys. For one thing, the dress she was wearing was so short I found myself gaping and then blushing when she leaned over to pick up a box to take to my room. Wasn’t there a dress code at this school?
“So, that’s all you have?”
She flipped her jet black hair back and pulled some lip gloss out of her bra. Her black dress inched higher again. Oh gosh, I was so completely out of my element.
“I… have a suitcase downstairs, but Nixon said—”
“—Screw Nixon. last time I checked, he wasn’t God, nor would he be wanted by Him. Now, let’s go grab your suitcase and I’ll show you where the elevator is.”
She linked her arm within mine and skipped down the hall. Somehow I had trouble keeping up with her even though she was the one in six-inch heels. We walked into the main corridor and then through a door facing the brick wall. As soon as we went through the door, I saw a row of elevators.
“Any reason they keep these hidden?” I asked.
Monroe nodded and then pointed up to the ceiling, several security screens showed each elevator. “Added security since last year someone tried to bomb the school. Thus all the access cards and secrecy about the elevator. Last year someone was able to make it to the top floor before security caught wind of it.”
“So it really is like prison?” I gulped.
Monroe laughed. “No, it’s not that bad. But I mean, when you have the type of students that Elite has, you can’t be too cautious.”
I didn’t ask what she meant, because everyone knew what type of people went here. Children of diplomats, celebrities, and even some of the presidents’ kids had attended.
Once we reached the bottom floor, the elevator door dinged open and she walked me outside.
“Uh, is that yours?” She pointed to my suitcase. Correction, she pointed to my open suitcase. Clothes were everywhere on the pavement.
I screamed and ran toward clothes before they blew away. All of my possessions were in the process of making a sweep of the campus.
Monroe, to her credit, ran after some of the things and helped me gather up as much as possible.
Pretty sure I lost some of my underwear.
“He’s a jerk.” Monroe helped me off my knees once I zipped up the suitcase. “Look.” She glanced behind her and hurried me inside. “He’s the favorite because he’s a suck ass and my dad believes women are beneath him.”
That apple sure didn’t make it far from the tree.
“Anyways, if I throw a fit, my dad will probably just turn the other way and say his hands are tied. I can help you with the other kids, but with Nixon, you’re kind of on your own. Did he give you a key card?”
“Yup.” I pulled it out of my pocket and flashed it to her. “Two meals a day and one elevator ride a week. I’m truly living the high life.”
Monroe threw her head back and laughed. “Stick with me, and you very well may be right. Come on, there’s a kickoff party tonight, and we have work to do.”
“Wait…”I dug in my heels. “Why are you being so nice to me?” I hated being suspicious, but then again, I’d never met people like those who went to school here.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought I told you. I’m your roommate.”
That made sense. We walked in silence to the elevator. “Are you this nice to all your roommates?”
“No. I killed two of them, but my dad covered it up…”
Speechless, my mouth dropped open.
“Wow, I’m totally kidding. I’ve never had a roommate before this year. My dad thought he was punishing me by cramping my space. Instead, I’m relieved. I can’t stand those bitches on the third floor.”
“So, does that make you and Nixon a year apart?”
“No.” Monroe flashed me a smile. “That makes us twins.”
“Oh, me too.” We had reached the top floor again. Monroe took my bag. “Let’s go, New Girl. People to see and boys to flirt with.”
She wasn’t kidding about not having much time. Three hours later and I was new woman. She’d used this weird rod thingy to curl my long brown hair into beach waves and then proceeded to pluck my eyebrows into oblivion. I’d always liked my eyebrows. Sure they were thick but they framed my face quite nicely. I hoped by the time she was done I would still have some hair.
I wasn’t allowed to look at myself until she was done with my makeup.
“Okay, almost done. Now, what did you bring to wear?”
I jumped from the chair and reached into my suitcase pulling out the tea length dress I’d worn to grandma’s funeral. It was the nicest thing I’d owned and I’d even ordered it offline from Forever 21. So it had to be trendy.
“That’s cute.” Monroe squinted her nose. “But it’s kinda young for you.”
“Young?” I repeated looking at the yellow and white striped spaghetti strap dress.
“Yeah, I mean, it’s cute and it would probably be killer for a picnic or something fun. But this is the first party where everyone’s going to meet you. You need to look serious, you need to look hot, and you need to look untouchable.”
“Okay.” I chewed my lip.
“Don’t worry, I think I’ve got the perfect dress.”
My stomach launched into nervous somersaults. If it was anything like the dress she was wearing now, then I was going to be put in prison for prostituting myself out.
“Here.” She threw me a short black leather skirt, an oversized sweater with holes and some tights that were completely black until they reached mid-thigh and then sheer.
I quickly threw everything on. She kept handing me things and I kept dressing. Two bracelets and one freakishly long necklace later she declared me ready.
I was finally allowed to look in the mirror.
I smiled at my reflection. I looked perfect. Not like her and not like a supermodel, but like me. The makeup made my brown eyes pop, and my outfit still looked classy but fun.
“Shoes!” Monroe yelled. “Crap, what size of shoe do you wear?”
“Crap.” She began to pace. “I wear a ten.”
“Um, I may have something.” I tore open my suitcase and pulled out grandma’s old vintage heels, the ones I always used to play dress up in when I was little.
“Nice! Where’d you get these?”
“My grandma.” I shrugged.
“Remind me to tell her what a kick ass dresser she is next time she visits.”
“She’s dead,” I said it quietly, quickly.
The room fell silent. My eyes shifted to the floor. I hated this part. The part where people don’t know what to say but all you really want is for them to say nothing.
“That sucks.” She exhaled heavily and then placed the shoes on the floor. “I think she’d want you to rock 'em, what do you think?”
I swallowed the knot in my throat and nodded with watery eyes. “I think she would too.”
“Great, now let’s go party and show my brother what a complete loser he is.”
We linked arms and made our way to the party. It was the first time in six months I’d had anoth
The night air crackled with excitement. People talked excitedly down the main sidewalk as everyone made their way toward a huge building with a sign that said “Welcome Back!”
“Damn, Monroe, how do you walk in those things?” Tex fell into step with us and winked. What? Did he suddenly find me acceptable now that I was walking with Monroe? I glared back remembering our first meeting where he flipped me off because his idiot group leader told him too. Minion.
“Tex, I take it you’ve probably met Trace already?”
“So you flipped her off?” Monroe stopped walking.
“I swear if you finish that sentence I’m castrating you in your sleep.” Monroe poked his chest. “Now apologize to Trace.”
His red hair was spiked all over his head, his teeth were gleaming white in the dusk air as he walked around her and stood in front of me. “I’m sorry I flipped you off. I’m also sorry I didn’t get to see you this close up. You’re pretty. Care to ditch the party tonight? I’m sure we could find a way to entertain—”
“—I said apologize, not hit on her.” Monroe pushed him away. He laughed and then pulled her into a hug. “Excuse him, Trace. He’s almost as big of an ass as Nixon.”
“She said almost.” Tex laughed and walked in between us, putting an arm around each of us as we made our way into the main lobby of the building.
“Speaking of the devil…” Monroe said under her breath as Nixon held court in the middle of the room.
I felt like I was walking in slow motion. Like I wasn’t actually living this life but watching someone else live it. Or at least watching it on TV.
Nixon stood in the middle of the room. He was wearing black slacks and a tight baby blue shirt with a skinny tie and vest. He looked like he was modeling for Gucci or something. He even had aviators on. Oh gosh, I have officially died and gone to magazine model hell.
Chase was next to him, in tight black jeans and a sweater vest that could have done Tommy Hilfiger proud. Tex moved past us to knock fists with them. And then I noticed Phoenix make his way through the crowd and embrace Tex pumping him twice on the back.
Elite by Rachel Van Dyken / Romance & Love / History & Fiction / Young Adult have rating 4 out of 5 / Based on32 votes