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The feel of her hand on my skin repulses me. In fact, everything about this woman repulses me. Pulling my arm from hers, I take a large step away from her, then gesture for her to go ahead of me with a wave of my arm. “Let’s go, some of us have class to get back to,” I hiss, letting all of the coldness and disgust I’m feeling seep into my voice.
For a second, she looks startled, then she blinks, and all that’s behind her eyes is cold, hard nothingness. Penelope Rhodes is just like her parents. Everything about her is a strategic maneuver to get her closer to her inheritance and all that money.
I don’t speak again as we make our way to the nurse’s office, then I wait just long enough for Nurse Hannigan to start cooing and fussing over her before I leave.
Pulling my cell from my pocket, I type out a quick message to Davis asking him to grab my stuff from chemistry. Hitting Send, I pocket my cell again and pull out my cigarette case. Slowly, I saunter along the hallways until I find the hidden alcove opposite the old darkroom.
Since I saw Penelope sneaking out of the room the other day, I’ve had an intense desire to know what’s in there. To know what interest a disused room could possibly hold for perfect, fucking Penelope. In every other way, she’s obvious, predictable, and boring; but sneaking around, hiding in a forgotten room alone, that’s intriguing.
With my back resting against the wall and a cigarette perched between my lips, I stare at the darkroom door. Does anyone other than her ever use it? Is she meeting someone in there?
The Elite have our own private rooms with a sofa, Playstation, and TV setup, and even a refrigerator full of snacks and drinks that the cafeteria staff keep topped off for us. If we wanted to skip class and hole up in there for a couple of hours, no one would say anything. But that’s an Elite privilege and not something the rest of the student body is allowed to get away with.
But it seems like Penelope is, and I want to know why. A wry smile spreads across my lips when I consider the idea that the perfect little heiress might be using the darkroom as a place to ride some unapproved cock. Holding back a snicker of amusement, I tense, swaying forward as the door cracks open a slither.
Not breathing, I strain my eyes as I try to identify the person who’s trying so hard not to be seen. It feels like months before the door moves again, and when it does, the cigarette falls from my lips.
“How the fuck?” I whisper as Penelope emerges from the room.
How is it possible for her to have gotten here before me? She was with the nurse when I left, and there’s no way she could have gotten into that fucking room without passing me. Unable to move or look away, I watch transfixed as she scans the hallway, then scurries out of the door, spins around, and closes it behind her. Locking the door, she checks that it’s secure, then slides the key back into her blazer.
Just like the last time I saw her emerge from that room, her entire demeanor is different. When I left her less than five minutes ago, she was preening to the nurse and lapping up every bit of praise and attention she was given. Now she looks nervous and unsure. What the hell is going on?
Twice today, I’ve watched her without her knowledge. Earlier, she was angry and venomous, but even hiding in a stairwell, she was still imposing and surrounded by her aura of smug superiority. Now I can practically smell the fear and uncertainty in her.
With my back against the wall, I know I’m hidden from her view, but I still wonder if maybe this is all a show she’s putting on for me. When she pulls in a deep breath and scans the hallway, I wait for her to see me, but her eyes don’t do more than glance past my hiding spot.
Then, just like she did the other day, she hoists her backpack onto her shoulders, lets her hair fall over her face, and scurries away, small, forgettable, and completely unnoticeable.
7
IZABELLA
My sister is going to kill me.
No, my entire family is going to kill me. For a while, the feeling of freedom and excitement at ignoring Penelope was exhilarating, but now it’s faded, and all that’s left is the reality that I ignored her, and now they’re going to kill me.
Keeping my gaze fixed firmly on the floor, I rush along the hallway until I reach the imposing double doors that lead into Green Acres Academy’s impressive library. Pushing into the expansive space, I nod to the librarian and make my way straight for the private study room I have my detentions in. Right now, I should be in class—either mine or Penelope’s—but I’m not, and the reality of that is starting to dawn on me.
If she has a test and fails it—which she would, because honestly, I don’t think she even studies for half of her classes anymore—then her grade point average will fall, and all of this will be over. This charade we’ve been playing for the last three-and-a-half years would be over. She’ll fail, she’ll lose her inheritance, and it will all be because of me.
A thrill rushes through me. Ignoring my sister’s texts today could mean the end of my great-grandfather’s reign of control. Ignoring those texts could change my family’s entire future.
A manic giggle bursts from my throat, and I lift my hand to stifle the sound. Wouldn’t it be painfully bittersweet if the reason my sister lost billions of dollars was because I ignored her text message? What would my parents do? What would my sister do if her life wasn’t solely directed by a dead man’s wishes? Who would she be if she wasn’t being forced to play by his rules?
Exhaling slowly, I lower myself into a chair and drop my backpack to the floor at my feet. There’s another twenty minutes until the end of the period, and it’s better to hide out in here than risk being found wandering the corridors.
When the bell rings, a wave of nausea washes over me. My cell is still turned off in my backpack, where I plan to leave it. I know there’ll be fallout for my moment of rebellion, but whatever damage my act of defiance has done, it’s too late to change it now.
By the time the last bell of the day rings, all of my bravado has evaporated, and I’m brimming with nerves at having to go home and face my sister and parents’ wrath. Today is the first time I’ve ever ignored my sister’s demand for help. It’s not the first time I’ve thought about it. I’ve spent three years dreaming of what they’d do if I just refused to be a part of their games anymore. But every time I’ve planned to actually act on my intention of saying no, I’ve been hit with so much guilt that I’ve just done what I was asked, rather than feel like I was letting them down.
As the other kids in my class rush to pack up their stuff and leave, eager to get home, I hang back. Penelope likes to make a grand exit, so our driver picks her up from the front of the school and takes her home before he circles back for me thirty minutes later.
On the days I don’t have detention, I sometimes waste time in the library, and other times I hide among the seats in the sports stadium. Today I need to be outside, so I quickly move to the doors that lead out of the main building and follow the path that will take me to the bleachers.
GAA focuses more on academic excellence rather than sporting achievements, but we do have an impressive lacrosse team that competes and wins a lot. The team practices most days, but I doubt they’ve ever seen me sitting on the far side of the stadium.
Climbing the steps, I stop about halfway up the bleachers and walk about a third of the way along the row. Shrugging my bag from my shoulders, I place it on the ground, then push down the folding seats on several of the chairs and lay down across them.
