“Oh wait until you hear this T,” he starts, and he fills me in on everything that happened over the last few months.
It’s … interesting, to say the least.
I may have more to work with than I thought.Andrew and I take turns changing into our uniforms, using the back of the limo and its tinted windows for privacy, and then we slide into the backseat of the shiny black Cadillac with the academy’s logo on the side. My heart is racing, palms sweaty. I feel like I might choke.
If I walk in there nervous, they’ll know. They’re predators, all of them; they’ll smell my fear.
“Is any part of you still into them?” Andrew asks as we drive down the winding gravel road. I give him a look of such horror that he quickly closes his mouth and glances away. When we arrive at the courtyard with its stag fountain, I find myself with an escort.
“Miss Reed,” Ms. Felton says, smiling softly at me. There’s so much pity in her eyes that I find it hard to hold her gaze. “Welcome back.” She nods at Andrew and then stands there politely until he gets the hint and leaves. Standing behind her coiffed form is a tall man in a suit that makes me a little nervous. I eye him warily. “Have you spoken to Kathleen Cabot yet today?” I nod and shrug. She did call and offer me a limo for the drive to Burberry Prep. Well, most recently she offered me a limo. Yesterday, she offered to buy me a car. On the last day of school, she … apologized profusely for her son.
My jaw clenches slightly as I think about Creed Cabot, and his angelic white-blond hair, his piercing blue eyes, the lazy insouciant way he holds himself. Prince of Assholes, that can be his title while he competes with Tristan Vanderbilt for King of Dickheads. I don’t think about Zayd.
“Well, this is Kyle Carlin.” She gestures at the man, her outfit much the same as dozens of others I saw her wear last year. “Principal Collins, Mrs. Cabot, and myself conferred with your father over the last few weeks, and well, we felt it’d be nice if you had an escort on campus.” She must see the expression on my face because she adds, “at least until you get back into the swing of things.”
“An escort?” I ask, looking at Kyle’s hulking frame and huge muscles with my eyelid quivering. That’s sort of the last thing I need, some giant bodyguard trailing me. I may as well just announce my weakness to the whole school. What sort of high school life is that, having some random dude following me everywhere? “I’m not interested in an escort.” Ms. Felton purses her lips and exchanges a look with Kyle. He’s tall, dark-haired, and mean in the face. Very intimidating.
“I understand it’s not ideal,” Ms. Felton begins, and I shake my head.
“No. I don’t want a bodyguard.” There’s no way in hell I can exact my revenge with someone tailing me all day. I lift my chin and meet Ms. Felton’s eyes. I’m not sure if it’s possible, but I think I grew a couple of inches over the summer; I feel taller. “Is this compulsory?” My voice stays calm, even as Ms. Felton is staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“It’s not …” she begins, and I nod. No way. Sure, I bet the bodyguard would keep the Bluebloods away from me. But that’s all he would do. I’d still have to see Tristan’s gray gaze from across the room, hear Zayd’s raucous laughter, listen to Creed entertaining his subjects in The Mess. “Well, if you change your mind, Kyle will be patrolling the campus. We’re taking this bullying thing very seriously.” I nod and start to move away when Ms. Felton puts a hand on my arm. “If you want to take your meals in your room, we’ve made those arrangements with the kitchen.”
I give her a tight smile and pull away.
I can feel their eyes on me as I head up the steps, my white second-year skirt billowing in a breeze.
My feet move just fine until I hit the stained glass doors at the end of the outdoor corridor.
You can do this, I tell myself, breathing hard, pulse racing. Your uniform is clean and pressed, you’ve got on a garter belt and the thigh-high socks you didn’t bother with last year. Your hair is done, your makeup … passable, extensions on your lashes, brows waxed. My breath exhales, and I pull out a tube of bright red lipstick, smearing it across my mouth and then checking my teeth in a small compact mirror. I start to head in and then pause, smiling as I roll the waistband of my skirt.
