Private Relations Read Free

not?”
    “Because you don’t know me, that’s why.”
    “I know enough to have made a pass at you in the shower. It worked for Bobby, didn’t it? That was your English teacher’s name if I recall.”
    “How did you…?”
    “Vanessa told me everything, Jesse. Everything .”
    Frost gripped my heart. My stomach sank to the floor, and I could actually feel my hands begin to tremble. Had Vanessa truly told Eric everything that’d happened back at New Hope Academy? Every last detail? No, she couldn’t have done that. I refused to believe it.
    “I’m out of here,” I said. “Have a nice life.”
    I walked out of the room, took the elevator down to the lobby, and hailed a cab home.            

 
    Chapter 3

 
 
 
    Nothing like coming home to an empty apartment.
    I collapsed onto the sofa, not even bothering to turn on the lights. The snow had died down during the cab ride, but seemed to be picking back up. Flakes gathered on the windowsill, and a harsh wind pushed against the glass.
    The thought of what Vanessa had done -- telling Eric about Bobby and I -- weighed heavily on my mind. How could she have done that? What did she have to gain by revealing the so-called “affair” that happened between Bobby and me when I was only sixteen years old?
    My parents never earned much money. We lived in the Tacony section of Philadelphia, a neighborhood that was marginal at best. The public schools were even worse. Being “bright” or “gifted” or otherwise smart was a liability. Nothing like being identified as intelligent to encourage bullies to beat you up each day after the bell rang.
    Charter Schools seemed like a viable solution, if only they didn’t fill up so quickly. As for private schools, we assumed they were simply out of reach, until we discovered a boarding school called New Hope Academy.
    Nestled on ninety bucolic acres in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, it was one hour outside Philadelphia but felt like a world away. The campus resembled a small New England college, right down to the ivy-covered brick buildings and students lounging on the grassy quad. Most importantly, New Hope Academy had an excellent reputation when it came to the college admissions race.
    Princeton. Berkley. NYU.
    And that was from the same graduating class.
    The price for academic serenity was more than thirty-thousand dollars a year. But then, for the first time in my life, I experienced a massive dose of luck. New Hope Academy had scholarships available -- and when a spot opened up for that fall, I was invited to take the admissions test.
    I got the phone call a few days later. I’d passed.
    It was certainly an adjustment. New Hope Academy was far more academically rigorous than my sorry excuse for a public school, but I acclimated soon enough. I had a “buddy” on-campus, a fellow classmate that was assigned to show me the ropes and ensure I was aware of all the academic and extracurricular resources available.
    And then I’d met Bobby.
    Robert “Bobby” Allen was my junior English teacher, and had a reputation as one of the best instructors at the school. Handsome, single, and in his mid-thirties, it was odd to see someone so young and gregarious at a boarding school in rural Pennsylvania, but I didn’t complain. For the first time in my life, I had someone who was as passionate about fiction as I was.
    “Who is your favorite author?” he’d asked me. “And if you say James Patterson or Dan Brown, we might have a problem.”
    I’d rolled my eyes and scoffed. “More like Anne Rice, Neil Gaiman and Stephen Chomsky. I read a lot of commercial fiction, but only the good stuff, you know?”
    “Horror, fantasy, and a quintessential coming-of-age story? Well, at least you have diverse tastes. Any favorites among the authors you just mentioned?”
    “ The Witching Horror is my favorite from Anne Rice. I really liked Neil Gaiman’s Sandman series. I know they aren’t novels, but those comics were some of