Mr. D: Black Mountain Academy

  Mr. D

  Black Mountain Academy

  Alta Hensley

  Copyright © 2020 by Alta Hensley

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Special Thank you to my editor: Maggie Ryan

  And to my cover designer: Lori Jackson

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  About the Author

  Also by Alta Hensley

  1

  Corrine

  What makes a stalker tick?

  How do they think?

  What do they feel as they watch their prey?

  Is it the same as how a hunter holds his breath right before he pulls the trigger? A momentary silence seconds before a deadly result.

  Excitement mixed with fear.

  Desire mixed with contempt.

  The need to love and the need to hurt.

  I wondered about these things as they were such a part of my life.

  But I had no choice but to struggle to cope.

  Every single door in the house was shut and locked. The curtains were pulled close. The alarm system activated, but I still felt an evil trying to break in… watching… waiting… I could feel the demon there. It was so powerful. So consuming.

  A normal person would call the police when they were afraid—when they worried a murder may occur. I knew I could call the police, and they’d walk the premises, and even would come inside and check the rooms for me. I knew this, because I’d called before.

  Many times.

  I’d warn them that a stalker was near.

  And each time, the police would do their due diligence, pat me on the head, and be on their way. And each time, I felt that demon watching… laughing. The stalker wouldn’t get caught. He was far too smart for that.

  I had my own personal ghost.

  A Boogie Man.

  He only came out of the depths of the underworld for me.

  I guess I should consider myself special.

  Not every girl gets her very own beast to tango with.

  My mother would call it star attention. Being a celebrity, she always told me that there was no such thing as bad attention, and you could spin anything in your favor. But that was the life she craved. Not me. I simply wanted to feel safe and to be left alone by fake people. Did I want love and attention from the right people? Of course I did. But not from the superficial and the plastic.

  Peeking through the crack of thick curtains to see if I could see anything, I knew I needed to get the courage to go outside. I was late for school again, and I couldn’t stay hidden away in the house all day. I’d already missed enough school, and since it was my senior year, I really didn’t want to get held back again due to attendance. Being a nineteen-year-old senior was embarrassing enough. I had one last shot at this, or a GED was in my future.

  Fast.

  Everything needed to be fast in order to break away. I grabbed my backpack, car keys, and all but sprinted to my vehicle. Would my monster follow? Maybe, but I couldn’t allow him to have all the control. Somehow, I had to gain some of the power back. Plus, I never felt like he was with me at Black Mountain Academy while I was there. If he were, I didn’t feel his presence or see his shadow out of the corner of my eye like I did when at home.

  I didn’t need to look at the time to know school had already started for the day. The lack of students milling around their expensive cars or gossiping on the massive stairs leading up to the main building, told me all I needed to know. I would need to go to the office again, ask for a tardy slip again, and promise not to be late again.

  “Miss Parker…” the secretary—Mrs. Whatshername—said. “This is the third time this week you’ve been here.”

  “I know. Sorry,” I mumbled as I approached the counter to sign in. “Do you want me to write another note excusing myself?” There were perks to being a legal adult. She had to accept my letter rather than needing it from my mother or guardian. I legally could write it myself.

  She pursed her lips and shook her head. “One minute.”

  Walking away, she left me standing there awkwardly, anxious to at least be able to attend the last fifteen minutes of first period.

  “Corrine Parker,” a deep voice called, snapping me from my thoughts. I looked over at Mr. D—the principal—standing in the doorway to his office, motioning for me to enter. Mrs. Whatshername stood next to him with crossed arms and a smug smile on her face. “Please come to my office.”

  Releasing a sigh, and trying to not roll my eyes at how Mrs. Whatshername seemed to get joy in this, I obediently did as I was asked. This wouldn’t be my first trip to the principal’s office, but my first at this school. I knew it would be better for me and faster if I just smiled, apologized, swore I never would do it again, and allowed the lecture to come with no smart-ass or defensive remarks.

  Although his office appeared like any other stuffy, sterile, and rich academy office I’ve seen before, Mr. D was far from the ordinary principal I was used to. For one, he was good-looking. And yes, I knew that students weren’t supposed to look at teachers or administrators in that way, but Black Mountain Academy was full of beautiful people—both students and faculty—and Mr. D was no different. Plus, the man appeared slightly rough around the edges. His dark hair was always slightly messy, his tie a bit loose, and his shirt never quite pressed to perfection. He almost seemed as uncomfortable with his required attire as the rest of the students felt in the uniforms we were forced to wear. And sitting near him now as he still stood on the side of the desk, I could see some colorful ink peeking out from beneath his rolled sleeves. I couldn’t quite make out what it was on his forearm, but it was most definitely a tattoo or possibly even several.

  He was a mystery.

  A puzzle I wanted to solve.

  I had to look up at him as he towered over me. His whiskey-hued eyes screamed disapproval as he crossed his arms. Hoping he would take his seat across from me, I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.

  “How long have you been a student at Black Mountain Academy?” he asked, and I wasn’t sure if he already knew the answer.

  “Three months,” I answered. I considered adding “sir”, but figured he wasn’t a man who required that level of stuffy protocol. He seemed much more casual.

  “And out of those three months, how many days would you say you’ve been absent or tardy?”

  “Too many,” I said, pretty sure he didn’t want an exact number but was merely wanting me to acknowledge it was not acceptable.

  He remained quiet for an awkward amount of time and stood over me which caused my palms to get clammy and my mouth to go dry.

  For the love of God sit down.

  I hated when all eyes were on me. Even though I was nearly a twin of my mother, and everyone claimed I had the face and body for the big screen, I never wanted to follow in my mom’s footsteps. Her agent even suggested he represent me so he could make my “
darker, more exotic version of Marilyn Monroe beauty” work in my favor. I knew I had sexual appeal, and watching my mother work a room had tutored me on how to get my way with men by using it.

  Even knowing all that, I still hated when all eyes were on me.

  But Mr. D was studying my every move. I could feel the burn of his eyes even though I tried to avoid connecting mine with his. I didn’t want to flirt to try to get out of this, but I wasn’t opposed to it either if it meant I could walk out of this office free and clear of anything more than a stern lecture.

  I was on his radar, and that was okay, as long as there weren’t any other negative ramifications.

  “Why are you always late? And missing so much school?” he asked.

  I couldn’t tell him the truth. I had learned a long time ago about speaking of anything real about my life. Either people thought I had lost my mind, that I was on drugs, or that I was a compulsive liar looking for attention. No one believed me. They all thought every issue or feeling I had was all in my head.

  And maybe it was.

  “I’ve been sick lately,” I answered. “Maybe I need vitamins.”

  Okay, so my answer sucked, but I didn’t know what else to say.

  “I’m assuming you want to graduate.”

  “Obviously, or I wouldn’t be here,” I said, hating that my words came out far snarkier than intended.

  “We’re going to have to call your parents,” he said, finally walking over to his chair, sitting, and typing on his computer to no doubt pull up my file.

  “I’m nineteen,” I offered. “I don’t have a guardian anymore.”

  I knew I risked pissing him off with the statement, which was not my intent. I wasn’t challenging him, but just wanted to save him the time and effort of figuring it out for himself.

  He stopped typing, stared directly into my eyes, leaned back into his leather high-back chair and said, “I understand that. But you’re still a student here, and there are still rules that need to be followed. My guess is that, although you are an adult by legal definition, it’s still your parents who pay for your tuition here. Am I correct?”

  I nodded. “My mother does. My father isn’t in the picture.” Actually, I didn’t even know who my father was. Nor did my mother as monogamy wasn’t a word in her vocabulary. But I didn’t need to go into that bit of detail with the man.

  “Well, then I believe your mother should be made aware that you’re about to be expelled from Black Mountain Academy if you miss any more school or are late again.”

  I swallowed the lump forming in the back of my throat. I hadn’t realized I was so close to being kicked out.

  “It won’t happen again,” I began. “I understand that—”

  “An attendance contract will need to be signed by both you and your mother in order for you to remain at the school.” He reached for the phone, lifted the receiver, and looked at me expectantly. “At what number can I reach your mother?”

  Not being able to resist smirking, I leaned back in my chair and raised an eyebrow. “Good luck trying. I could give you her cell, and I could even give you her business line. Hell, I could give you her agent’s number, her manager’s, her assistant’s… but you won’t be able to reach her.”

  I had tried to be respectful, but now he was just pressing my buttons. I didn’t like talking about my mother—or lack of a mother—and I was growing more annoyed by the second.

  Hanging up the phone, he asked, “So, you live by yourself?”

  I shrugged. “I’m nineteen, remember?”

  I didn’t reveal the fact that I pretty much had lived by myself for most of my life. Occasionally, I would be lucky enough to have a nanny or a housekeeper watch over me. But a mother? No.

  “Did she move here with you to Black Mountain?”

  “We didn’t just move here. It’s been a vacation home for years,” I said, knowing I wasn’t exactly answering the question.

  “But you moved here to go to school. Not vacation. Correct?”

  I nodded.

  “Corrine…” He reached for his coffee cup and took a sip before continuing on. “Where’s your mother?”

  “I don’t know. French Riviera. Greece maybe. On a yacht with some billionaire possibly.” I shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “And she doesn’t answer her phone?”

  You would think a mother would, but no.

  I took a calming breath and shook my head. “She likes to detach from the world between films. Her last movie took a lot out of her.” Or so she told me when I last spoke to her before moving to Black Mountain.

  I had told her I wanted a change and would like to attend a new school. She agreed, thought a change of scenery would do me good, but did nothing beyond that to help me… unless you counted the use of her credit card as help.

  “And what if you need her?” he asked.

  I gave up on needing her a long time ago. Of course, that was yet another little tidbit of information I didn’t share with Mr. D.

  “I’m fine.”

  Mr. D did a good job hiding his emotions. I knew he was judging me, but his face remained flat, hard, and it was driving me crazy that I couldn’t read him. Although I really didn’t care what he thought about me just as long as he didn’t kick me out of Black Mountain Academy.

  “Regardless, I’m going to need to speak to your mother,” he said.

  “I understand that. But like I told you, it isn’t going to be easy.”

  He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and nodded. “I’m not sure I believe that you have zero way of contacting her. But regardless, until I speak with her, you have detention—every day until a conference is set up with your mother.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but he put up a hand.

  “Unless you want me to move forward with expulsion due to your lack of attendance.”

  I shut my mouth, looked down at my feet and ran my palms over my school uniform skirt. Taking hold of the fabric, I raised it up my thigh to reveal more flesh. I snuck a peek to Mr. D and waited to see how he’d react before pulling my skirt up a little further. Maybe it was time to bring in the big guns.

  Except he didn’t even look at me. He didn’t seem to notice or care. Trying to flirt with what I figured to be more of a robot rather than a man, would just be embarrassing. Seeing as his eyes didn’t even glance toward my legs, I doubted I would have much success.

  Damn.

  “Fine,” I mumbled. Although the likelihood of me attending detention every day until graduation was more likely than him reaching my mom.

  “Get to class,” he said, rising from his chair. “And so we are clear”—he walked toward the door as I followed—“if you miss another day, or are late again, you’ll not be allowed to attend this school any longer. Are we clear, Miss Parker?”

  I walked past him in the doorway and bit my tongue against what I really wanted to say. “Yes, Mr. D. Perfectly clear.”

  2

  Mr. D

  It had been a huge mistake thinking I would like this job in Black Mountain better than my former position in Oakland. I had assumed getting out of the inner-city school for some posh academy gig would make life easier. The pay was stellar, the fresh mountain air was needed, and a change of scenery crucial if I was to have any more years left in me for academia life.

  I was wrong.

  It was still the same bullshit.

  The same kids, the same excuses, the same teachers, the same paperwork that nearly sucked the life out of me, and the same crap that I loathed.

  The only real difference in being the principal of Black Mountain Academy was that I dealt with rich little fucks rather than poor ones. But that wasn’t really the worst part of the job. What I really hated was the damn board of directors and their pointless meetings and social gatherings. The board of Black Mountain Academy won the award as being the most precocious, elite, and annoying people I had ever met.

  Yeah… I clearly needed a new profession
or, at the very least, a new attitude. Nothing seemed to make me happy any longer. Even a move as big as the one I’d made in the beginning of the school year. I thought change would do me good, but so far, the only thing I’d gained was a constant headache and a new thirst for whiskey on the rocks.

  Black Mountain Academy had hired me because they felt they needed someone who couldn’t be pushed around by the parents of the student body. We weren’t dealing with the average blue-collar mom and dad at this school. No. We had some of the most powerful people’s kids attending, and the academy was known for blowing through their staff because they couldn’t take the entitled bullshit for long. I, on the other hand, refused to be a casualty because I was shoved out. So, the board was wise in hiring me for that reason alone.

  After Corrine Parker left my office, I had been busy the rest of the day with putting out constant fires. Finally, having a moment of time after school let out, I walked over to my computer and found the phone number on file and dialed. I didn’t think Corrine would lie to me, but I’d be an idiot not to at least try. I’d become accustomed to neglectful parents while working in my school in Oakland. Foster kids, or kids in worse situations were a majority rather than a minority, and it was something I was used to working around. But I hadn’t expected it in an upper-class school like Black Mountain.

  I guess shitty parents existed everywhere.

  When I heard the message that the voicemail box was full, I slammed the phone down in frustration. What kind of mother couldn’t care less about her daughter? I felt sorry for Corrine, and second-guessed my decision about giving her detention until I reached her mom. It was likely I never would. And while my position as principal meant I was considered a mandatory reporter, Corrine was nineteen, so it wasn’t like I could report her to the state to step in for neglect. Basically, this was a girl who no longer was part of the system.