Worth the Risk
Are you willing to lose it all?
Prologue
There’s us, and then there’s them.
There's not much difference between any of us. We’re all teens trying to get through one of the most sensitive parts of our lives, yet so many see only what they want in each of us.
I’m supposed to be from the advantaged group... that’s about the biggest joke I've ever heard.
Just because my daddy was rich, my mom spent more time at the country club than she did at home, and almost everything I wanted was handed to me on a silver platter, didn’t make me privileged.
I can’t remember the last time either of my parents came to one of my dance recitals or auditions over the past year. My nanny attended every single one of them, but my parents—well, let’s say they gave birth to me and left it there at that.
The others came from a part of town I’d never stepped foot in. Most had a free ride to our school, meaning they had the grades but not ways to attend Hillside Academy. They bussed with public transportation across town to come to a place where sixteen-year-olds cars and trucks cost more than five of their houses put together.
Our administrators got off on telling us this could be our way to interact with the less privileged.
What they didn’t understand was that we weren’t allowed to intermingle with them, according to our parent’s set of standards.
These people worked below us in business or were even the ones who did our lawn care or housecleaning. People we looked down on and not thought of as equals.
The others—one guy in particular—were the ones who changed my life forever. I learned the hard way that love and forgiveness turned out to be the two things money couldn’t buy.
Chapter One
“Chelsey.” My best friend, Amber, called out to me as I stepped up to the sidewalk.
I waved to let her know I’d heard her calling. I said hello back to everyone who greeted me on this beautiful first day of school.
After this year, I would be a graduate and be on my own.
“Ready for the first day?” Amber made her way over to me, with several of our friends following behind.
She wasn’t watching where she was walking because her focus was on the compact mirror she carried around. She always looked for imperfections on her face and what else her mom’s money could buy for her.
Amber was a beautiful blonde with striking features that had every modeling agency chasing after her. Even though most would look at her and think she was a stuck-up snob, that was quite the opposite. She may have acted and portrayed herself as being selfish and conceited, but in reality, she was as bad as everyone else when it came to having self-doubt.
“Oh. My. God.” Amber shrieked at a lower-classman she ran into. “Watch where you’re going.” She straightened out her mini skirt and pushed the traumatized younger boy away.
“You know it was clearly your fault.” I stared at the boy, who was now digging another cookie out of the packaging.
Amber rolled her eyes but nodded. “Yeah, well, he could’ve moved over. I most likely have cookie crumbs all over me now.” She wiped off the imaginary crumbs the younger student might’ve left on her.
I kept walking up the sidewalk towards the school. A busload of students, the ones who rode for over an hour to come to our educational sanctuary, were making quite the scene as they exited. It wasn’t a riot or anything of that nature, but more like they were literally excited to be here.
It was a good thing I’d taken three years of Spanish, and also because my nanny had taught me since it was her primary language, I was able to understand everything they were saying. Most of it was from the girls, and of course, they were making fun of our group. It was the same old things we always heard, ‘rich bitches, sluts,’ something of a derogatory nature.
“What are they talking about?” Amber didn’t know any Spanish at all. She was proficient in French, Italian, and some German, which was great when she did her European summers, but speaking any of those languages wasn’t very helpful here in the States.
Most corporate businesses here in New York, like the ones our parents owned, demanded employees be versatile and able to speak with those from other countries. I just found it easier to focus on one particular, like Spanish, and call it a day. It came in handy, like now, when some of our classmates came from predominantly Hispanic neighborhoods.
“They said they loved your outfit.” I had to lie. Amber would go off on them and start some kind of verbal confrontation if I didn’t.
She would lose big time if anything ever moved past an oral fight of name-calling. She was tall, thin, and not very fighting-worthy.
The other girls, however, looked as though they could kick anyone’s ass.
Amber would be too worried about the next photo session and her face being bruised up, or, God forbid, she would break a nail with a punch.
“Aw, how cute?” Amber waved to them like someone would wave to a toddler.
The group of three girls glanced back at us strangely, shook their heads, and then continued to follow the rest of their gang up to the three-story school building.
“You just lied to her.” A girl’s voice whispered in my ear.
I’d forgotten all about Cheyenne, who was walking with us, and was also fluent in Spanish. Her parents had sent her here all the way from their thousand-acre ranch in Texas. They owned like a whole county down there with whatever type of farming they did.
We all still make fun of her with her country girl and southern accent, but she normally laughs it off and makes fun of our New York City talk.
“I’m not telling princess what they said.”
Cheyenne nodded she understood the reason why.
We all knew not to get Amber all riled up, especially on the first day back to school. She would whine about what they said for days if I would’ve told her the truth. So it was best to say they complimented her, something she loved to hear.
We call Amber princess, well just for the fact she acts like one. Out of us four that hung around together, she was the most pampered. Not that the rest of us don’t receive our fair share of our parent’s wealth, but she kept the silver spoon in her mouth twenty-four hours a day.
“New car again for the first day of school, Chelsey.” Bradley came over to our group before we walked up the broad stone stairs that led to the front doors. He loved to torment me because he thought bothering me was eventually going to make me say yes to his millionth time asking me out.
“New car.” I glanced back at the ruby-red Jaguar sitting in the parking lot. “Huh, I didn’t notice.” I tried to act casual about my new seventy-thousand-dollar back-to-school present my dad had delivered to me yesterday.
Of course, I loved it, but getting a new car every time I went back to school was getting pretty old. I now had three cars in my name, all together, they were over three hundred thousand dollars.
“Yeah, right.” Bradley shook his head and chuckled. “Your panties were wet as soon as you saw the big red bow wrapped tightly around it.”
He was right about one thing, and it wasn’t the wet panties. There was a large red ribbon strewn across the top of the car when it was delivered, but it was like that every year. The card always said, "A little present for your first day of school. There was never a love Mom and Dad signature, only a stamp from my father’s office letting me know who the sender was.
“Ew, like gross, Brad.” Amber lightly pummeled him on the chest. Not like her little fist would hurt him. He was a six-foot-three, two-hundred-pound, full of muscle, state champion wrestler for our school. “Is that all you ever think about?”
“What?” Bradley faked being shocked by Amber’s accusation. “That I fantasize about Chelsey’s moist, hot, so ready for me pus…”
Amber’s hand went over his mouth before he could finish his last word. “Don’t say it.” She removed her hand from his mouth and shook her finger at him. “I hate hearing that word. It’s like so…nasty.”
“Pussy, pussy, pussy.” Bradley just had to keep saying the one word that got Amber grossed out. “Pussy.” He whispered it once again before he had to stop.
We arrived at the main doors and were greeted by the administrators, who were there to welcome us back. We all said our hellos and how happy we were to be back for our senior year. Of course, that was all a lie, and most of us couldn’t wait until these last eight months of hell would permanently be over.
“You’re a dick.” Amber smacked Bradley once again and stomped off.
“What?” Once again, Brad appeared to be surprised by Amber’s annoyance with his choice of words. He jogged after her on his quest to make amends with her, at least he was leaving me alone for the moment.
“Guess we’ll all meet for lunch at the usual spot.” Cheyenne’s southern twang got my attention after I’d noted Amber hit Bradley for the third time in the past five minutes.
“Sounds good.” I fixed my carry-along bag more securely on my shoulder and headed for the stairs leading up to the second and third levels. “You guys have class down here, right?" I thought I’d remembered their schedule correctly. They were all down here on the first level for the first half of the day, while I had classes on the second level. Then, for the rest of the time, we had several classes together.
Cheyenne nodded her head. “Yep. You have…”
“Advanced Calculus.” I finished her thought since it was evident she didn’t remember what I’d taken.
The first bell rang, indicating we all had five more minutes before we were marked tardy. “See ya at lunch. Later, Chels.” Cheyenne took off on a slow jog, followed by Brianna, who was quiet this morning.
I did hear a rumor that her father’s company might have to file for bankruptcy, which meant she might have to change schools during our senior year if no money was available.
I made it to the set of stairs that had a mad rush of students trying to get up to the higher levels before the late bell rang. I picked up my pace and tried to avoid getting body-slammed by some of the guys who never watched where they were going.
Someone tugged on my arm. “Excuse me.”
I peeked over my shoulder, and it was one of them. I should’ve recognized it just by the way he spoke, the Spanish accent wasn't easily hidden.
He wasn’t as tall as most of the guys who played on any of the sports teams, the ones who hung around our small group, but not as short as some of the workers I’d seen outside doing the janitorial work. He was two steps below me, so maybe that had something to do with the fact that he appeared smaller.
This guy had light brown skin and dark brown hair, which matched his piercing, almost black eyes, and was more in shape than most of the athletes around here.
“What?” My tone came off like a bitch, sort of a response like Amber would’ve said it in, but that was to be expected. They knew who we were and how we supposedly acted.
Well, most of the people I associated with acted like complete snobs, but I didn’t. I tried to interact with everyone like our school officials wanted us to. Then again, I only associated when I had to, like with tutoring time and trying to help the ones less fortunate in their academics.
The guy held up his hands like he was surrendering. “I needed to know if I had to go left or right at the top of the stairs for room two-o-seven.”
It was rare that transfers were put on any level of the school, except for the third. The school wanted to have us integrate with them but not actually associate with them during school hours.
I think a lot of this whole assimilation process had to do with receiving endowments from private investors who had a clientele that stemmed from those communities. It was sort of like the mob, but more on a Wall Street-type level.
“That’s my first class too. You can follow me.” I elbowed past the other students still rushing to class and made a left at the top. It was easy to find my way around here. I've been going to this school since I was a freshman. The room was the second door on the right as soon as we turned down the hallway.
The tardy buzzer sounded as soon as me and the mystery man walked into the classroom. The other students in our advanced calculus class appeared surprised that a transfer was in there, and he came in with me.
I scampered and took my seat in the front, while the guy behind me continued walking to the very back of the room.
Our instructor began the welcome speech and went straight into the first lecture as soon as we were all seated. I only paid attention to half of what he said as my mind questioned my body about why it reacted to this new guy like it had.
I was the one that never had a single, ‘oh my God, he looked at me’ moment or half a clue as to what a hardcore intimate time was all about.
I was the future leader of my dad’s business empire. My thoughts always had to stay focused on who was who in the world and how my interaction with them would make a profit for the firm.
It never mattered if I wanted to dance professionally, and my dance instructor, whom I had had since I was old enough to toddle about, said I could make it to Broadway one day. Neither parent was supportive of my dance, so focusing on what would make our family money and making my parents proud became my entire focus for the past four years.
I’d been accepted into Columbia University for the next fall semester, mostly due to my academics, internships, volunteer activities, and, of course, my father’s generous donation he gives annually, as well as the fact he’s an alumnus of such said school of business.
Anyway, this new guy—new to me but probably not to the school—set my body on fire. I felt him staring at me the whole time we walked up the stairs and down the hallway.
I had a hunch that his gaze was on me now from the back of the room. I had this burning feeling that started in the pit of my stomach and spread out to every nerve ending I had.
I raked my fingers through my hair and glanced over my shoulder to the back of the room.
Unlike what I expected to see, the guy wasn’t watching me at all. His eyes were fixed on the teacher, and he was feverously writing down everything that was said and written on the whiteboard.
He must’ve sensed my stare because his eyes met mine, and I instantly turned away. A surge of heat raced to my face as I was caught spying on him.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I am Chelsey Winters, and I’ve never blushed a day in my life.
I tried to keep focused on whatever the teacher was talking about but failed miserably.
