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“Yes, Miss Rhodes.”
“I didn’t speak. I don’t deserve that A. I failed the assignment,” she says, her voice clear and unyielding.
“Miss Rhodes, I think this is the first time a student has ever questioned my grade allocation when they have received an A,” he says, his amusement clear.
“But I didn’t earn it. I didn’t speak, and the assignment was to contribute to the discussion.”
“Perhaps your memory is a little fuzzy. I clearly remember you making a valid point,” Mr. Long says, dismissing her as he moves his attention to the pile of books in front of him.
“No, sir. My sister contributed. I didn’t say a thing,” Penelope says a little more forcefully.
The teacher’s lips purse and tighten as he huffs out a frustrated sigh and dramatically lifts his gaze. “I saw and heard you speak, Miss Rhodes. Go to your next class, or else you’ll be late.”
Turning to look at us, Penelope stares with wide, imploring eyes. We all stare back, equally dumbfounded, because apparently the girls’ parents really do have this school under their thumb, and as easy as it sounded before, I don’t think Penelope failing a class is going to be as simple as we thought.
Another two weeks pass, and it seems that no matter how hard Penelope tries, this school won’t allow her to fail at anything—even the gym teacher gave her an A when she point-blank refused to get changed into her gym clothes.
When she agreed to fail a class, I assumed she was messing with us, playing some long game cooked up by her nightmare family, but I’ve seen her hand in papers that literally say “I don’t want to do this assignment,” repeated a thousand times over, and then receive an A back for it.
It’s Friday, and tomorrow is my and Izzy’s engagement party. My dad has gone all out and rented the ballroom at the Hamilton Hotel and invited two hundred of our closest friends and business associates to help us celebrate. After living with us for over a month now, Izzy has my dad firmly wrapped around her little finger, and I’m pretty sure he’d do anything and give her anything she ever wanted.
But my dad isn’t the only Winslow male who’s obsessed with Izabella Rhodes. I’m completely, obsessively in love with her.
My Little Ghost has possessed me—mind, body, and soul—and I want our relationship, our engagement to be real. She’s changed me. I’m still a selfish asshole, but not with her, never with her. I don’t recognize the person who blackmailed a beautiful stranger those few short weeks ago, but I can’t begin to regret doing it because it gave me her, and now I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her.
41
IZABELLA
You know when you get to the point that you have no idea what to do next, so you just go along for the ride and hope something will come to you before it’s too late? Well, that’s where I’m at. For the last month, Penelope has done everything from skipping class, deliberately answering every question wrong on quizzes, and refusing to hand assignments in or handing in stuff that just says the same word repeated over and over. But she still receives an A for every single class. It’s become almost a joke between the six of us that no matter what she does, they’ll never fail her.
We need to come up with a new strategy, but apart from her proving that she’s no longer a virgin or getting arrested and totally annihilating her character, none of us can think of anything that will break the terms of the will.
Tomorrow is my and Gulliver’s engagement party, and I’m nervous, although I don’t know why. We’ve gotten so used to pretending that we’re in love that it’s easy now, effortless. That’s probably got something to do with the fact that I stopped pretending a while back.
Gulliver is a beautiful fucking nightmare, and I’m the idiot who’s fallen in love with him. I don’t know when what I feel for him went from hate to friendship to complete obsession and love, but as much as I remind myself a thousand times a day that it’s all fake, it feels pretty damn real to me.
“Hey, Ghost,” he says as he wraps his arms around me from behind, his hand grazing the bottom of my breast as his lips settle onto the crook of my neck.
“Hey,” I rasp, a wave of longing for him hitting me that makes no sense when he’s wrapped around me like a snake.
“Let’s go home. I’m over this day already, and we have the party tomorrow night,” he growls, his lips kissing a path up my neck, teasing me on the spot he knows I love being kissed.
“We can’t just skip,” I say breathily, my eyes fluttering shut.
“Yes, we can. They won’t care.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” my sister says, clearing her throat dramatically.
Gulliver’s growl of frustration is loud against my skin, and I can’t help but smile. “Hey, Penelope.”
“I’m really sorry,” she says, her expression pained, her eyes sad and a little downcast.
“It’s fine. We shouldn’t be doing this in the hallway anyway. Principal Smith has already threatened to give us detention twice this week,” I say, trying fruitlessly to push Gulliver’s arms from around my waist.
“That’s not what I mean,” she says ruefully, pushing a gold envelope toward us.
“What’s that?” Gulliver asks gruffly.
