Tree Hill Heights
Reputation
Chapter One
Brooke Davis
The gates of Tree Hill Heights boarding school loom up above me, the 'T' and two 'H's written in cursive out of twisted brass. Normally I would say something derogatory at this point, but I can't because I promised my dad I would be on my best behaviour.
Now, don't think that I'm a daddy's girl or anything. In fact, I'm very, very far from that, but this is a special circumstance. Hell, starting a new school halfway through your senior year is could hardly be anything else, could it?
Besides, I don't really want to get into that right now, because the gates have swung open and my chauffer Brad is driving again.
Leaning back on the cool leather of one of my father's many cars – the Rolls, would you believe – I contemplate what I'm actually doing here. I begged and begged for my father to send me to a state school, but he wouldn't have it because Skip Davis' reputation is far too upstanding for his one and only daughter to go to a – ugh – state school.
I know, what a tool, right?
Still, that tool is the man who keeps me in Louboutin's, so I guess that going to yet another boarding school isn't such a big price to pay.
Being on my best behaviour though? Yeah, that is.
The Rolls pulls up in front of the school, and I whistle through my teeth. The school looks pretty impressive, with its golden stone walls reaching up for four storeys and its elegant arched windows.
"Well, one thing you can say for my dad, Brad," I say, leaning forward so that my head is between the front seats. "He sure knows how to pick them."
Brad gives his big booming laugh and then gets out of the car so he can open the door for me. I step out, balancing on my brand new Kate Spade pumps. Because I agreed to be on my best behaviour at Tree Hill Heights, I managed to negotiate a brand new wardrobe from my father, even though most days I'll have to wear the tacky uniform.
I don't hear anything apart from the crickets and the wind, and I figure that's probably because I've arrived at eleven O'clock on a week night. I can't believe that from now on, I will be going to bed before eleven on week days.
A tall balding man is stood on the front steps with a tiny red-haired woman. He has his arms folded across his chest and a sour expression on his face. I'm guessing he's Dean Harchester, and she's his secretary.
"Here," Brad says, passing me an envelope. "It's got your papers in it."
I take the envelope and slip it into my purse. "So, I guess the Dean's pretty pissed that I'm arriving so late, huh?" I ask. I eavesdropped on the conversation between Dean Harchester and my dad this morning.
"He understands the time difference, and your father can be very persuasive, as you know," Brad says, laughing again. I give a half-hearted smile and hug him.
"Bye Brad."
"It's late and I'm tired, so apart from the basics, let's get this over with and show you your room," Dean Harchester says with a sigh. His eyes look tired like he's submitted to this thing against his will. In fact, I know he has. From what I can tell, the only reason I'm here is because Harchester owes my dad a huge favour, and that favour just happens to be letting me into his 'prestigious academy'.
"Sure, I'm beat," I reply, offering a broad smile in the hopes that the Dean won't hold a grudge against me for the whole semester.
No such look, the Dean's face hardens even more. "From your past, I'm fairly certain you have an aversion to rules, but I'm going to tell you them anyway in the hopes that you really have reformed, and aren't just doing so to get some free clothes or whatever.
I open my mouth to protest, partly because he's being unfair, and partly because that did have a little to do with it, but he cuts me off.
"The rules at Tree Hill Heights have been made for a reason. They are there so that everyone is happy, and lives are made easier, so here they are:
"Number one, during school hours eight until two, the full uniform must be worn with no customizations. That means no removal of the tie, vest, blazer or… skirt," he looks at me pointedly at this one and I smile down at my knees. "And no additions either."
"Number two, curfew is at 10pm on week nights and 12pm on weekends. If you are found out of your room after these hours, there will be consequences."
I nod at what Harchester is saying, but tune out too. Don't get me wrong, I fully intend to play by the rules now that I'm being a 'good girl' and everything, but the rules are in my welcome pack and I can just read up on them tonight. Besides, the bald dean has one of those really monotone voices that practically put you to sleep, so I reckon it's in both of our best interests if I try and think of other things.
Like how I'm going to survive living by these rules. I know that I need to stay away from trouble or this is it - my last chance is gone. It's a harsh thought, and its one that has me thinking about all the things I've done in the past. I smile to myself at the memories. So many fun and crazy memories.
"And finally," Harchester says, raising his voice like he realizes I'm not completely with him. "No drinking."
Oh yeah, this is going to be hard.
Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, bee…
The alarm stops when I thrust my hand down on top of it. Groaning I turn over and pull the covers up around my neck, snuggling into the fluffy pillows of my new bed.
One thing that has to be said for Tree Hill Heights - it has nice beds. In fact, it has nice bedrooms. Single bedrooms surrounding a small common room. Four bedrooms to each common room. Single sex, unfortunately, but at least this school actually has boys, which is better than my second one.
I'm dozing back off when a swift knock on the door stops me. I groan again and kick the covers off, revealing my brand new silky pyjamas. I stumble to the door in a sleepy daze and open it, revealing a small girl with long dark blonde hair.
"Can I help you?" I ask, rubbing my eyes. The girl grins at me and seems way too perky considering it's six thirty in the morning.
"No, but I can help you. Can I come in?" She doesn't wait for me to finish as she steps around me and into my room. The dark curtains are drawn on the dark January morning, and my cases remain unpacked by the tiny closet I've been allowed.
"Yeah, come on in," I say sarcastically, shutting the door and leaning on it. "Who are you?"
The girl sits on the edge of my bed and smiles at me. "I'm Haley James, one of your room mates, and your assigned buddy. Nice to meet you!"
"Buddy?" I ask, rubbing my eyes again as they seem unable to fully open. "And why are you here so early?"
Haley shrugs. "I'm always ready early, and I thought you'd be up. If you don't jump in the shower soon Peyton's going to hog it until half seven, and then there'll be no time. If you want, you can go get a shower while I sort out your uniform and check out your schedule."
"Who's Peyton?" I ask, touched by what Haley's just offered to do for me but feeling strangely unable to thank her because it's too early in the morning, and Brooke Davis is not a morning person.
"Oh, another roommate. Trust me, I'll make introductions later, but if I were you, I'd go and shower. Now, where's your uniform?"
After a short but satisfying shower, I walk across the common room into my bedroom. So far I haven't seen any of my 'room' mates - a term I find strange considering none of us are actually sharing a bedroom - apart from Haley.
When I slip back into my bedroom, my towel wrapped tight around me, my uniform has been laid out on my bed and Haley is sat at my desk doing something with my schedule and some highlighter pens.
"What are you up to?" I ask, feeling far more awake after a hot shower.
"I'm colour coding your schedule," Haley says, her nose scrunched up in concentration. "I couldn't find your shoes, but I'm guessing you'll know where they are so I didn't think too much about it."
Colour coding my schedule? Wow, I think I'm actually conversing with a nerd. I've never done that before, but seeing as this is my 'last chance' and everything, I'm guessing that it can't really hurt too much. "Yeah, I had to buy some ugly black flat things. What is up with that?"
Haley laughs and swivels around on my chair. "I know, and the skirt has to stay below the knee line. It's almost like Dean H doesn't want us to get laid or something." She has sarcasm in her voice, but she's not using it in a mean way and I laugh. Maybe I might just like this girl after all.
"Thanks for all of this," I say, smiling. "I'm really grateful that I got stuck with a buddy who's so organised and… color-coded."
Haley smiles at me as she stands up. "Sure, it's no problem. You only have one class with me - English - but if we meet up by your locker in between them I can show you around. I'll wait outside while you get ready and then we'll go down to breakfast, okay?"
"Okay."
The morning goes by in a blur. I don't really take anyone in as I sit in my classes and ignore the excited chatter going round about the 'new girl'. Luckily no vicious rumors have been spread yet, but it won't be long until they do. It never is.
"So, how has your day been so far?" Haley asks as we meet by my locker, number 412 in case you're interested.
"Worky," I answer. "So, what have I got next?"
Haley links me as we walk up the halls together. I get stared by people from both sides of me but I ignore it. Haley does a pretty good job of ignoring it too. "Social Studies," Haley answers.
We walk into the dining hall and I stop, confused. This is where we had breakfast, and already the room is packed full.
"Then, why are we here?" I ask.
"Because it's Lunch," Haley answers, pulling me along so that we're walking towards the lunch line.
"But you said…"
"Let me tell you a little something about the students of Tree Hill Heights - or THH as we affectionately call it," Haley says, picking up a lunch tray and passing it to me before getting her own. "We're a diverse student population, as different as night and day, but we all have something in common. Do you know what that is?"
I shake my head, wondering where this is going. I pick up a tray of salad from the salad line and put it on my tray while Haley takes a sandwich. We both reach for the water at the same time and walk towards an empty table.
"Reputation," Haley answers simply, setting her tray down and sitting in her chair. I follow suit.
"That makes no sense," I say, opening my water. "Everybody has different reputations." I speak from experience here. I have had many reputations in my time - party girl, alcoholic, slut…
"But they all have reputations," Haley says, and I start to see her point. "And they all hide behind them. For example." Haley puts her hand to her chest, "Me. Sweet, smart, kind - 'good girl.' I don't drink, I don't do drugs, and I'm a virgin."
"You're a virgin?" I ask, shocked. I don't think I've met a senior who's a virgin before.
"Yeah," Haley says, like it's the most normal thing in the world. "And it's easy to be perceived that way. I get a certain immunity from the bullies and the jocks because I'm a 'good girl', I'm no harm at all… but I have a past. Everybody does. And I have a secret too."
I'm intrigued now. "Oh yeah, what is it?" I ask. Haley raises an eyebrow.
"Brooke, I like you, but I hardly know you. There are two people in the world who know my secret and they're the 'nice guy' and the 'loner'."
"What?" I ask. "More reputations?"
Haley nods. "Absolutely." She takes a bite out of her sandwich and I look around. I spot a tall dark-haired guy walking back from the lunch line with a tall blonde girl next to him. He's hot and the old 'slut' Brooke stirs inside me. Down girl.
"So what's his reputation?" I ask.
Haley looks up to where I'm gesturing and pulls a face. "Ugh, that's a 'player'. Nathan Scott, captain of the school Basketball team and grade A jerk. He's dumb, but he's good-looking enough that he gets good grades anyway."
"Oh yeah, how does that work?"
"Seduces geeks into doing his homework, charms the female teachers into raising his pop quiz scores and the male teachers love him anyway because of the basketball. I'm still trying to work out how he hides behind his reputation, because honestly, 'player' fits him like a glove. I can tell you about her though," she points at the blonde next to him. "That's Peyton Sawyer - our roommate? Well, she's his girlfriend, and her reputation is 'the bitch'. She's catty, cruel and popular."
She sounds like the kind of person I'd be friends with in my old schools. I look at her, from her curly blonde hair to her big hazel eyes and long legs. She's beautiful in a delicate kind of way.
"She's dark and edgy, but you wouldn't know it to look at her. She excels at art, and her work is always picked for art shows and stuff. She submits it anonymously so that her 'clique' won't know about it. She hides behind her reputation because that's who everyone expects her to be, and she doesn't dare move beyond that."
Suddenly another movement catches my eye as a guy picks up an apple from the lunch line and walks back out of the dining hall. He had dark blonde hair and his tall lithe body has that sexy walk that makes my lips quiver. I raise an eyebrow in appreciation.
"So who's that guy?" I ask, nodding towards him. Haley follows my eyes and catches the guy just as he walks out of the door, completely ignoring everyone around him.
Haley smirks at me. "That's Lucas Scott, the 'loner'."
AN: So? What do you think? The next chapter will come from Haley's POV because I'm going to try and make this a Brucas and a Naley with a touch of Jeyton.
I know I shouldn't start another story but I really wanted to do this.
So please read and review xxxx