Seven Deadly

Chapter 7: Ezra Van Gelden

I'm frozen in place, too shocked to move.

Ezra is crouched above me, his lips still dangerously close to my ear as the words he whispered a moment ago echo though my my mind. Move, new girl, you're standing in front of my locker.

He's pointing at the locker next to mine, which I'm accidentally blocking with my book bag.

I look up into his dark blue eyes, wishing I was anywhere but here. 

It's my first day at school, and I'm already getting bullied by the popular kids? 

Usually I manage to blend in at whichever school I'm at, slipping under the radar until I inevitably move on - but it seems that nothing about St. Selaphiel's Academy is going to be easy for me.

I guess this year really is going to be hell.

"Sorry," I murmur. Sometimes I wish I was more confident, more self-assured. Like one of the kick-ass heroines in one of my favourite books - sassy, able to think of something sharp to say back to him. Like Hermione Granger putting Draco Malfoy in his place with her quick wits, or Katniss Everdeen toppling an entire goddam tyrannical dictatorship. But I'm not like that. Books and stories aren't real life, and in the real world, girls who stand up to the bad guys like that get in trouble. Big trouble, which I can hardly afford. And so I'm always the eternal good girl, the quiet girl - the girl who avoids trouble and who does what's expected of her. And so I step aside, casting my eyes downwards.

Rhys lets out a little laugh behind my back - more like a mean snigger, really - at my expense.

He must think I'm utterly pathetic. I bet they both think that. Not that it matters though. Let them believe whatever they want. They'll forget all about this moment, and about me, soon enough. I'm nothing. I'm nobody.

And so I try to keep my eyes downcast, looking down at my feet, waiting to Ezra to go away - but I can feel his penetrating gaze lingering on me, so I look up at him.

Then Ezra does something unexpected - he shoots me a wry smile, before swinging open his locker door. He pulls something out, then shuts the locker again again with a loud 'bang'. I look up, momentarily startled, and he winks at me, the crooked half-smile curling the corners of his lips.

He's making fun of me. Teasing me. Whatever. 

"Bye, new girl," he murmurs, before walking away down the cloisters, the pack of giggling school girls in tow. 

"Don't get any ideas, new girl," Rhys says mockingly. "I saw you drooling back there. Ezra is MINE."

"I'm not-" I begin, but Rhys cuts me off.

"-worthy of him, yes, I agree," Rhys says. "You don't stand a chance. But don't take it personally. Ezra Van Gelden is on a whole other level, even amongst the very elite student body that walks the hallowed halls of our elite academy. Have you heard of Gregor Van Helden?"

The sudden question throws me off guard. The name does sound familiar. He's an inventor or something... 

"Isn't he some famous millionaire?" I ask, images of luxury cars and private jets flashing through my mind.

"Ha, more like billionaire," Rhys says airily. "Several times over. Gregor Van Gelden is the CEO and founder of MedCorp, and also happens to be Ezra's father. Making Ezra sole heir. Ezra is basically Silicon Valley royalty. The best of the best. But he's not one to rest on his laurels. My Ezra has an amazing work ethic, and he makes it all look so easy!"

Here, Rhys seems to swoon, and I can't help but notice how he refers to Ezra as being 'his', despite the fact that Ezra didn't so much as say a single word to Rhys when he stopped at the lockers. I guess that's the power of wishful thinking. Rhys has convinced himself he's already won his prize, standing on the podium with his gold medal - but no one's broken it to him that he's not even in the race. 

"Ezra's going to be Prom King," Rhys says dreamily, no doubt picturing himself by Ezra's side wearing the Prom Queen tiara. "He's the top academically in our year, plus the best at every sport the school has to offer. I'll take you by the trophy case at lunch break to show you. Ezra's not just a pretty face. He's an achiever like no other."

"Ok," I say, starting to feel bored of hearing Rhys singing the praises of his crush, a guy who is clearly a stuck-up, self-obsessed jerk. "You said there were seven 'princes' at this school. What about the other six?"

"Oh, you'll see," Rhys says. "Sooner than you might think."