1. Chapter 1

Why are things in life so hard? One minute you are playing in the sandbox, and the next, you are sitting in your stupid Bio class pissed off because the kid you asked to finish your assignment didn't fuckin' do it, and now you're looking at getting kicked off the swim team for sure. Stupid fucking cunt.

I'm gonna beat the shit out of Archie.

I wait for Prescott to show up as the professor and coach discuss my grades. You swear I was failing every single class. It's one class. All I know is I'm hunting down Archie after this.

Prescott walks in, searching the room. His eyes land on me, the disappointment on his face is easy to read.

"Professor Normous, can you explain why I'm here?"

Norm-ass glares at me before turning to Prescott. "Yes, Ashton is failing, and we would like to discuss our options before we remove him from the swim team."

Prescott rubs his face. "I see. Have you discussed all the options before kicking him off the team? I don't know." He shrugs. "Get him a tutor? It's not that hard, Edward. I'm not sure why you had to drag me all the way down here when you could figure this out for yourself. You are the professor, after all, and you." He points to Coach. "Grow the fuck up. We all know you hate my sons being on the team. You haven't even tried to find out who tried drowning him. I should have you replaced."

Oh, snap. Take that, you cunt.

Norm-ass' face turns beet red. "Why should I tell him to get a tutor? He hasn't even applied himself. We're one month down, and he hasn't even passed one test or assignment. Whose idea was it to place him in this class, Prescott?" he spits out.

Prescott chuckles. "Well, his transcript shows he was excelling well in Grovedale, so either they were lying, or you're a shitty teacher. Which is it? Should I do a performance evaluation?"

Shit, here I thought Prescott didn't care about me like that. I watch as the coach weasels closer to the door.

"I wouldn't, Scott."

I think that's the first time I've heard the coach's first name.

"I have things to do. Obviously, this doesn't include me anymore. When he gets his shit figured out, let me know."

My eyes bug out of my head. "The he that you are referring to is standing here and had won you a gold fucking medal over the weekend. Dickhead."

"Ashton, that's enough," Prescott barked. "You help him pass, or you're both done. He stays on the team, and that's final." With that, he slams open the door and leaves.

"Well, you heard the man. I'm out until you figure your crap out." I salute the fuckers and leave.

Ace is waiting, leaning against the wall, spinning his smoke in his fingers. A quizzical brow arching above his left eye. "Well? What did numbnuts have to say?"

"I don't think they expected Prescott to go full Daddy mode on their ass. I stay on the team, and they have to do their jobs."

He chuckles. "Good. How hard is it to teach a bunch of twenty-something-year-old assholes?"

"Hard. Dickhead." I need a fuckin' joint.

The sun damn near blinds me when we walk out of the campus. I dig into my pocket, pulling out my joint and tucking it between my lips.

"Have you heard from her yet?" Flicking my lighter, I close my eyes, inhaling deeply.

"Not since she kicked us out Sunday." He rolls his eyes.

Someone is still slightly salty about getting kicked out of Jinx's place. I don't blame her. It freaked her the fuck out getting that text from Perv McGee. She wanted to meet him in the food court, but we all talked her out of it. There was no way in hell we were letting her go out there. Besides, how were we going to know who it was, and who's to say he would show up?

"If you want to see her so badly, she has music. Go visit her."

"I don't want to distract her, and I'm trying to do better here."

I bite back my laugh. "Sure ya are. Whatever you need to tell yourself. I gotta go find a nerd."

"Need help?"

"Nah, this will be easy."

"Fine, see you later."

I take off in search of one geek that's gonna shit his pants. It's easy to find him; luckily, Archie never leaves the café. That fuck is done for. Like last time, Archie is sitting at the same table typing away on his laptop.

I slam his laptop shut, causing him to damn near jump out of his seat. When his wild eyes land on me, he pales.

"I'm sure you remember me. Did you forget something? Fuckin' important?" I spit out.

I swipe his computer off the table, and it crashes to the floor.

"A-Ashton. I-I didn't forget. I swear." He looks around for help.

"No one is going to help you. I was almost kicked off the swim team because of you."

I lean in close, caging him in. I watch his Adam's apple bob up and down. That's right, be nervous.

"I'll get it finished today."

"Yeah, you will, or I'll be back." I push away from him, placing my two fingers at my eyes, then back to him in an I'm watching you motion.

He better pray to whoever he can that he finishes it on time because I am not sacrificing dick shit for this school. If I get canned from the swim team, what else is there for me here? I push my way through the lineup, getting a few glares and comments in return.

I head to my art class. If anything, splattering some shit colors onto a canvas should get me out of this angry mood. If only the teacher would let me paint what I want, things would go much smoother, and I would probably pass that class more easily. It could be worse—at least I'm not Ace.

The sight before me makes me want to die.

Ace is in the center of the class, standing on a small podium, posing like a douche. No one in their right mind sits on a bench, crossed-legged, resting their chin on their hand, except my brother.

I bite back my laugh, but the glare that Ace gives me, is the push I need. I burst into laughter, disturbing the entire class.

"That's enough, Ashton. Take your seat before I ask you to leave." The teacher sends deathly glares at me from her desk.

"Hey, you're the one that did this." I point back at my brother before taking my seat.

I catch Spencer grinning as I grab my paintbrush.

Fine, he's all right.

"I want you to draw our subject using expressionism. Tell me what you see and feel on your canvas."

Well. This is bullshit. I can tell you what I see. I grab a glob of black paint and paint Ace. He's lucky that I was blessed with the genes of being an artist. Only when I apply myself, but in this case, I think I'll pass and make him look like a donkey. Besides, the teacher did say to express yourself.

I want to see Jinx, but I feel the right thing to do is wait for her to come to me. I think I come off as a little intense and need to step back. Deep in the back of my mind, I should tell her what happened to me, but with what's happening with her, I don't want to add more shit to her plate, besides my problems aren't as significant as hers.

We need to work hard to find her pervy little stalker. The list Ace printed out hasn't been much help; who knew how many guys go to this school? And every class is different. It's a lot of cross-referencing, and it's not like we can call up the cell phone and strike up a conversation in class to see whose phone rings.

"Did you seriously paint me as a fuckin' donkey?" Ace grabs my painting off my easel.

I burst into laughter at the look on Ace's face. "Fuckin' rights I did. Explain to me how you landed in that position?"

"I was late one too many times," he growls.

"Ah, so you were punished. Lucky me then." I shoot him a huge smile.

He shoots me the middle finger along with a grim smile in return.

"Have you heard anything from Mad?"

"Just that he's at the music hall with Jinx. Maybe we can grab supper, drop by her place, and surprise her."

"Okay. Where the hell did my asshole brother go?" I stare at him in disbelief.

He rolls his eyes at me. "Give up. I'm trying an alternative path, remember? Grab your shit. Let's go."

An alternative path, my ass. I will give him until tomorrow, and the dickness is back. He doesn't have a nice bone in his body. He's only lying to himself, and it's not healthy. I don't need him taking it out on Jinx when he does crack.

"You go back, and I'll grab something to eat."

He points at my painting. "Fix that piece of shit."

Nah, I'm gonna frame it in the dorm room. I think it'll be perfect there. Or better yet, a birthday gift.

Once Ace leaves, I clean up the art room. Being the last one here gives me some alone time, which is horrible for remembering the past. My brain doesn't get the memo that we don't want to remember certain past events.

Especially one college house party memory.

I need to get out of here before I fall into a black hole that I won't be able to climb out of.