Hallows: Duets

The Fundamentals of Punctuality

Missy Elliot- Hot Boyz

Ashley:

"Dante," I gasp as his hips rock into me from behind.

His hand is wrapped around my throat tightly to keep me from crying out. I love the way it feels when he pulls all the way out and pushes back inside of me stretching me over and over again. Class started about five minutes ago and we're both very aware that our mentors are going to be pissed about us showing up this late for our first day of classes but this feels way too good to stop or care for that matter. He growls in my ear just as he is about to come and my body breaks out in goosebumps as the coldness of his essence floods my body replacing the heat inside of me. It's better than any high I've ever had including the pain when cutting.

"f**k," he pants against my back. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I laugh, trying to catch my breath.

"Do you feel lightheaded? Tired?" the worry in his voice makes me smile as I fix my skirt with one hand.

"No, I mean I feel a little shaky but I did just c*m all over you," I pull him into me. He presses his lips to mine and looks over at the broomsticks I've been holding since we snuck in here. I tried to fix them but they wouldn't stay still.

"f**k, we're late. Kelly is gonna pull my ear," he groans.

He takes my backpack and my gym bag before he opens the door for me. We walk to the suites together. I take my key out of my backpack's front pocket and open the door. He walks me in and sets my things down by my desk. Mrs. Dubois and Ms. Andrews, my new mentor give us a look of disapproval. I guess cleaning up is not going to be an option until I'm properly reprimanded.

"You're late. Mr. Blackstone, to your suite," Mrs. Dubois points to the door. He looks over at me with a smirk and presses a kiss to my lips before making his way to the door.

"Sorry, I'm late," Lily rushes in with her dog following behind her. "That was a wild rally,"

"Come take a seat, Miss De Laughrey," Mrs. Dubois pinches the bridge of her nose.

She looks beyond pissed. Dante shakes his head and laughs as he walks out of the suite and shuts the door. Lily pulls the armchair over to my desk. The legs scrap against the hardwood floor. Mrs. Dubois' eyes are wide with anger as she watches Lily settle into the seat. She is really stressed out. Maybe I can help her out with something later.

"Sup," she smirks popping the p. Her eyes are bloodshot and a little low.

"Hey," I greet her quietly.

"You know, we should do this in my suite. There's more space. I'm pretty sure we can get another desk in there for Ashley," she says looking around.

"There's no piano in your suite," Mrs. Dubois says.

"Uh, so have admin put one in. Duh," she shrugs. Mrs. Dubois closes her eyes tightly for a second to calm herself. The lady behind her doesn't react.

"I'll ask. For today, we're starting here. I just want to say that I absolutely loathe that you've joined the pompom crew. I know you're making friends and having fun but that's not what the school is paying for. They will allow it but if it in any way starts to interfere with your music. You will be pulled," she gives me a pointed look.

"That's fair," I agree. "It never has before,"

"You didn't have the responsibilities you do now before, Miss Villanueva. You two have a competition to win and your showcase at the end of the year. I have submitted the story you wrote to the board and they loved it. They want the two of you to present it together,"

"No way," Lily beams. She smacks my arm excitedly. "Good job, Ashley,"

"Don't do that," I warn her.

"Sorry, I'm a little high," she snorts. Mrs. D and our mentor look at her like she's lost her damn mind and the more I learn about her, yeah. She has and long before she came here apparently.

"I'm up here," Mrs. Dubois claps her hands to get our attention. "This is Valerie Andrews. She will be your mentor for your last year with us. She will provide your lessons in Literature, history, philosophy, and musical arts. The rest of your classes will be downstairs with everyone else. Now, before she introduces herself.

"Ashley, I need you to tone the sarcasm down. Valerie is here to teach you. I know you are very well versed in the classics thanks to Mr. Daniels but just because you know the stories doesn't mean you know everything. Keep an open mind. No cursing. No idle threats. Relax. Yes?"

"Yes," I nod.

"Miss De Laughrey," she sighs heavily. I press my lips together to keep myself from laughing. "We had a long serious talk about your etiquette this Summer. You signed an agreement. You remember that, yes?"

"Yes," she nods dropping her head onto her hand in a bored manner.

"This is your last chance. There is no one else willing to work with you. Do you understand what that means?"

"Yes," she looks down at her hands. Okay, it's not funny anymore.

"Good. Now, I'll allow the three of you to get acquainted. Valerie, call me if you need anything. I mean it. I will have my phone on me at all times. Anything at all. There will be a guard outside at all times for the entire year. Got it?"

"Got it," Ms. Andrews nods.

"Good luck, Val. Be strong," she looks over at us and lets out another heavy sigh. "Be good, girls. I implore you,"

The three of us remain silent as she gathers her things and walks out. Her voice is extra hoarse today. Like she's been talking for a long time or is really tired. As soon as the door shut we both turn our attention to Ms. Andrews.

Valerie Andrews is very young still. There's no way in hell she's past her late twenties. Her dark auburn hair is thick and wavy. It's cut right under her ears leaving her slender neck exposed. She's dressed in a mint green button-down dress with a white high collar and a white cardigan. The dress covers her knees. Her flats are a shiny nude color. The gold bows on them match the gold aviator-style prescription glasses on her face. She's not wearing any makeup or jewelry other than her specs. Her nails are trimmed short and are unpolished but buffed.

This lady is not here to make any kind of impression. She's going to cut into us deep. I once had a teacher like her at Hellbourne High. She's the one that got me into cheer and taught me how to properly read and write notes.

"You'd be stupid hot if you dressed better," Lily blurts out. "Redheads are my weakness,"

"Lily," I shake my head.

"Okay," Ms. Andrews sighs. "I've reviewed both of your profiles. You," she points at Lily. "Should be in a mental institution. You nearly killed your last mentor with the strings of your bow. Not a single one of your teachers has ever given you an appraisal for your outstanding test scores because they all hate you. And you," she turns to me. "You are lucky to be here, but you're not a model student either. Fighting, disruption of peace, drug dealing, and my personal favorite arson. You're lucky you're not in prison,"

"Damn, Villanueva," Lily nods. "You're a straight-up Southside b***h,"

"How you two managed to find one another is a cruel and dangerous design of fate. However, you two have a gift. A gift many would kill to obtain. So, they brought me in. My name is Sloane Valeria Dumont Andrews,"

"No way," Lily sits up excitedly. "You're Sloane Dumont? The cellist that burned down Safe Haven Academy in New City after those two girls committed suicide and the school tried to cover it up? You're that Sloane Dumont? You're a freaking legend,"

"Yes," she rolls her eyes. "Unfortunately, that is the legacy I left behind at Safe Haven. The board didn't think my actions were heroic in any way and I was kicked out of the classical music scene. I completely destroyed my career. So I majored in behavioral studies and now I'm this. I take gifted juvenile delinquents such as yourselves and turn them into the presentable young ladies and gentlemen I know they can be.

"If either of you is late to lessons again, I will revoke your practicing time and confiscate your instruments. There will be no music for forty-eight hours and you will write me a five-page essay on the fundamentals of punctuality during those forty-eight hours. Yes, every time I take your toys and it'll be a new essay each time. Do we have an understanding?" she asks. We both nod. "Perfect. Now, I've got your syllabus here along with a questionnaire. You have an hour to write me a presentable introduction utilizing those questions. Go through them, answer them, and put together something nice for me," she pulls an hourglass from inside of her purse and sets it down on my desk. "You may begin,"