Deviant Academy

Along for the Ride

Payton’s POV 

Despite my best efforts, I can’t get Harley to say a word about Seth to me over the next few days, and Will doesn’t do a thing about him, either.

Maybe I shouldn’t have asked him to do something. Maybe it wasn’t fair. Will’s a nice guy; he’s not a creep like Seth. It’s not his fault that creeps like Seth exist.

It’s just… he’s the headmaster’s son. If anyone could get Seth fired, it’s him. Right?

There are things I don’t know about this place, my brother Liam warned me when he dropped me off here two years ago. Things very few people know. It’s the safest place in the world for young Magics, but… It’s still not safe. Be careful.

I’m starting to realize what he meant by that.

Saturday morning, Harley says the first thing she’s said to me in days: “Are you going to the party tonight?”

I blink at her, honestly surprised by that. Sure, the Harley Harris the public knows and loves might seem like a party girl, but she certainly hasn't seemed that way to me since I met her. “I wasn’t really planning on it. Are you?”

She shrugs. As usual. “Seems like it’d be rude not to go, given that it’s in my honor and all.”

Of course—I had forgotten that the Deviant Squad’s excuse for throwing this party was technically a welcoming for Harley. (More likely, an excuse for Nate to get in her pants.) “Right—right. Well, I’ll go with you if you want.”

She frowns, pulling open a drawer and scanning it. “I don’t think I have anything to wear.”

The last time we went shopping, she barely bought anything. A couple pairs of jeans; a couple of tank tops; some bras and underwear. I’m not surprised that she’s now realizing she’s ill-equipped to dress for a party.

“Well, the day’s still young,” I remind her. “Let’s go shopping.”

And if I manage to wrangle some Seth information out of her while we’re there, so be it.

- - - - -

“I’ve heard rumors about him before,” I tell her about an hour later as she scans the selection of party dresses at the village boutique. “Seth, I mean. Rumors that he’s hooked up with students.”

For an instant, her hand freezes, and I can tell my words have some effect on her, if minimal. But just as quickly, she resumes moving, pulling a little, black dress from off the rack and lifting it up. “How’s this?”

It’s nothing I could pull off—that’s for sure. But I’m not surprised she picked it out. The Harley Harris of the American news legends always had a flair for the glamorous—stealing jewelry and wearing it out of the store; stealing designer dresses and showing up in them on her next crime spree; that sort of thing. I haven’t seen much of that since she arrived, though.

“It’s nice,” I tell her shortly. “Try it on.”

She nods, heading into the back and ducking through the curtain of an empty changing room.

“I just want you to be careful,” I shout through the curtain as she changes. “If those rumors are true, he’s a predator, Harley. He’ll try to take advantage of you.”

She comes out then, and my jaw drops at the sight of her. No one should be allowed to look that good, male or female. I’m as straight as they come, and even I want to bang her.

“Every man is a predator,” she tells me as I ogle her. “Are the students any different from Seth? You’ve heard the things Nate thinks around me, haven’t you?”

She must be a good Empath, I marvel; clearly she’s heard those things. “Well… yeah. But it’s different. He’s a student.”

“If I’m going to be taken advantage of, I’d rather it be from someone who has the means and experience to take care of me.”

I’m gaping at this point. “Take care of you?” I repeat. “You’re Harley Harris. You’re the most independent woman I know.”

She heaves a sigh, glancing in the mirror before stepping back into the room and snapping the curtain closed to change out of it. “Did you ever notice who else was in all those news stories with me?” she asks as she changes.

I vaguely remember there being a guy with her—a bit older, I think. They never seemed to know what his abilities were, if any. “I guess. Some guy.”

“Right.” She comes back out, holding the dress, and walks straight past me over to the checkout counter. “He ran the show, Payton. I was just along for the ride.”

I’m so shocked by that, I can’t even will my feet to move for a few seconds. When I finally do, I hear myself demanding, “Are you already sleeping with him?”

She shoots me a glare. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.”

She’s right—it’s not any of my business. I’m just so shocked by everything she’s telling me, I don’t know what to say.

“Are you sleeping with Will?” she asks me suddenly.

“Wh…” I take a step back. “What?”

She shrugs, taking her card back and bag back from the cashier and leading me outside. “Just thought I’d ask since he’s fast approaching.”

I stop in my tracks yet again when I realize she’s right—Will Tinsdale is beelining straight for us.

I probably sounded harsh before, with my whole Will won’t do a thing about him bitching. And to some extent, I stand by that; he should do something. Just like he shouldn’t have acted like Rachel wasn’t taken advantage of by Seth because she’s, well, slutty.

But I also probably could have mentioned that I really like Will, and I always have—from afar, that is.

Not to mention, he’s cute as hell.

“Hey,” he greets shyly as he approaches the two of us. His big, warm, brown eyes linger on mine, barely registering Harley. “How are you two?”

“Fine,” Harley says shortly. “I’m going to check out the liquor store. See you back in the room.”

And she leaves me alone with Will in what I can only hope isn’t quite as obvious a gesture to him as it was to me.

She really is perceptive. I can’t believe she picked up on my miniscule crush on Will already.

“So, I talked to my dad,” Will says as soon as Harley’s out of earshot.

People really keep knocking me over with feathers today. I should have had more faith in the kid. “Seriously?”

“Yeah—but don’t get excited. It wasn’t the first he’d heard of it, and he basically told me he couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Seriously? The headmaster can’t do anything about a student-teacher affair?”

“Normally, he could. But apparently Seth’s got some really high-up ties in the Deviant Society, and if Dad f***s with him, they’ll f**k with us.”

I groan, sinking into the nearest bench and running a hand through my hair. “I f*****g hate the Deviant Society,” I mutter.

He carefully takes a seat next to me, looking a mixture of amused and concerned. “Me, too. But be careful how loud you say that.”

I know he’s right. Saying you hate the Deviant Society is the same thing as saying you hate the Deviant Squad—who are basically the Junior Deviant Society. And you don’t get far around here messing with them. 

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do when you get out?” I ask, glancing over at him. “When you graduate, I mean.”

He gets quiet then. I study his face carefully. He’s got such beautiful skin—sort of caramel-colored, with deep, brown freckles and thick, short, dark hair. He looks different from the stereotypically beautiful Deviant Squad; maybe that’s what I’ve always found cute about him. There are more than enough Dash’s and Nate’s in our school already.

“Follow in my dad’s footsteps, I guess,” he finally says. “Become a teacher, and eventually a headmaster.”

It makes sense, in a way. He’s got the brains, the patience, and the wisdom to do that kind of job.

But it’s a shame, too. The Protective Society is growing weaker and weaker by the day, and everyone in our generation seems too scared to join them.

And what about his mother? Rumor has it, she died in the war. Did that not make him… politically inclined?

“You don’t want to fight back?” I ask him carefully. 

He holds my gaze, watching me for several seconds as if contemplating whether or not he should say what he’s about to.

“Your parents died the same way my mother did, didn’t they?”

How does he know that? And what's his point? “I… I guess. Your mother was killed by Normals?”

He nods. “Or so they tell me.”

“Then… yes. Why?”

“Well, I’m curious what side of the fence that puts you on. You just said you hate the Deviant Society—and I agree. But are they not the ones fighting back?”

Now I see his point. But I’m more than prepared to make this argument; it’s one my brother Liam has made to me a thousand times. “The Normals are the reason my parents are dead, but the Deviant Society is the problem. Because of them, Normals live and operate in fear of us. Until we can find a way to stop the quest for supremacy and find some sort of peace between us, these deaths will keep happening.”

He nods, seeming to follow. “You want to join the Protective Society, then. Protect the very people who wronged you.”

He doesn’t say it with judgment, but it still stings. “I want to fix the world, Will. It’s broken, and the Protective Society are the only ones trying to fix it.”

The smile forms in his eyes before it forms on his face. It’s the kind of smile that instantly calms you—puts you at ease.

“Right,” he says. “How about we talk about this more at the party? I’m rather in need of a date.”