The Tutor

Chapter 1

Rafe Ferreira was thrown out of London faster than shit off a shovel.

True to his threat the luxury car and petrol magnate Carlos Ferreira had kicked his son out to a faraway, god-forsaken town in the middle of nowhere called Berk. Rafe had many 'final' warnings and threats but never thought his father would actually go through with them.

Honestly, it was hardly a fight. Just a scuffle with a couple of French guys in the club. The press really had a field day with that one. Something about the children of the rich being empty and senseless.

This town was empty and senseless, he'd thought when his driver dumped him and his bags unceremoniously outside his dorm room yesterday evening.

So here he was today, standing outside the registry office holding his schedule, new books, and a map of the school. He leaned against the wall and let out a long, defeated sigh.

He looked down at his phone, scrolling through message conversations, searching for the name Maria. The profile picture had a very sultry brunette girl lounging on the Riviera with his family villa in the background, half her face covered with a sun hat, holding a glass of champagne. His phone had no new notifications, but he still got phantom vibrations in his pocket. When would she get in touch? She left his texts unanswered. Those two blue ticks of 'read' messages and a one-sided conversation on WhatsApp sent his blood boiling.

He sent another text to his brother, asking him to campaign on his behalf and end his ridiculous banishment since his father always listened to Emile. The smart one, the favoured one, the older one. Surely his father didn't expect him to spend an entire academic year here? Rafe was a city boy through and through. The only occasions he spent time in a village were in their family's winery in Tuscany or expensive resorts in Europe.

The shrill of the school bell snapped him out of his moment of despair – forcing him to make sense of the timetable. The map showed several buildings scattered around a lot of green areas. Half of that greenery was allocated generously to sporting grounds. The campus buildings were either remodelled churches or old, heritage buildings.

Compared to the cramped, cosy spaces of London, this school felt like a large, empty barn in the middle of a farm. Albeit, a beautiful barn.

Rafe meandered to his next class through the unfamiliar surroundings. Laughter and chatter echoed off the walls, irritating him further. The students looked pale and as bland as the school uniform. Not to mention there were no good-looking girls to catch his eye and perk him up. Girls were always a good distraction, but it seemed he wouldn't find any here. As his eyes roamed his surroundings, he stumbled onto something small and soft. There was a yelp.

He realised too late that he had stepped on someone's foot and that particular someone was now glaring daggers at him.

"Watch where you're going!" came a sharp reproach coupled with a shove. A girl, shorter than him but no less peeved mirrored his grimace. She was strong for her slim frame since she'd shoved him hard enough to make him stumble backwards. She adjusted her glasses and looked down at her foot. Her shoe had fallen off, and on her spotless white sock, the dusty imprint of the sole of his shoe.

It happened so quickly Rafe wasn't sure how to react. "Shouldn't have been in my way," he muttered. "Anyway," he continued as he watched her brush the dust from her sock, "you have exceptionally tiny feet."

"Sharp observation, Sasquatch."

She brushed away the mark and put her shoe back on. Never in his life had he ever been called or likened to a Sasquatch. This girl needed a thicker pair of glasses (if that was even possible) because she was obviously blind.

"You know what they say about big feet," he drawled, unable to resist an innuendo. It was almost a reflex on his part.

"Small brains?" she fired back.

Ouch.

He ignored the insult. Not only were the girls here mediocre, but they were apparently mean.

He shoved his timetable into her face. "Where's this classroom?" he asked, pointing at 'English Lit, B3, Miss McGrath.'

She looked at him through her spectacles before looking back at the paper. "Walk that way," she said coolly, pointing a finger to the end of the corridor. "Take a left and keep going until you see an orange door."

He didn't bother with a 'thank you' given how annoyed she looked. As he strode away, he could feel her eyes burning the back of his skull.

Fifteen minutes late to class, the corridors deserted by the rest of the students, Rafe pushed open the classroom doorway harder than necessary. That four-eyed girl had sent him in completely the wrong direction!

The teacher turned from writing on the board.

"Is this English Lit?" he asked, showing his timetable. About a dozen heads turned in his direction.

"Hello! That's right," the teacher said, her messy brown hair colour matching her knitted cardigan. "You must be Raffael-"

"Just Rafe is fine."

Her eyebrow raised slightly at his clipped tone. "Okay... Rafe. I'm Miss McGrath. You're late. Did you get lost?"

Rafe caught the tiny-footed girl looking straight at him with a smug look. He glared back.

"Yes. I did."

He could've sworn he saw her smirk.

"Oh I'm sorry about that. You were supposed to have an induction last week. Well, never mind, please, take a seat over there," Miss McGrath pointed her marker to a free seat right behind that mean girl and next to a blonde bloke who introduced himself as Luke.

Little did Miss McGrath know Rafe spent last week hiding from his family and his driver to avoid being dragged here. He considered glueing himself to his room like those weird activists regularly did.

The lesson went by as dully and slowly as every lesson ever does, regardless of the school, especially English Literature. He only chose this shitty subject as his fourth A level to be with in the same class as his girlfriend back in Westminster Prep School.

Miss McGrath had gone over the syllabus outline for the year ahead and named about twenty books they'd have to read for the exam with themes like Feminism and Enlightenment. Rafe let out a slow breath of defeat. When he heard the word 'poetry' he wanted to slam his head against the desk to knock himself out of his misery.

He glanced at the girl again, who had her back straight as a rod (no wonder she acted like she had something up her ass) and clung to every word the teacher said, pushing up her glasses once in a while. He noticed she sat alone.

As soon as the bell rang and ended the lesson for the day, he kicked the underside of her chair.

She turned back sharply.

"You sent me to the janitor's closet," he hissed. He'd gotten an earful from Ernest the janitor for almost breaking down his door and knocking down his precious vacuum cleaner.

"What's your problem?"

She looked completely unfazed by his outburst. "I thought that's where you and your terrible manners belonged."

"What?"

"You crushed my foot and didn't even apologise. Now I have to walk around with a sore foot and a dusty sock."

He blinked at her with disbelief hoping not everyone in this place was as weird as her. "It's not like I did it on purpose," he said.

"Whatever," she muttered as she grabbed her bag, flipped her long ponytail in his direction and sauntered out of the classroom before he could say anything else.