“Your grades have become unacceptable ever since you started partying more than you study.”
I scoff. “I don’t really have grades, Mom.” My private tutors teach me lessons three days a week and I do assignments and they never give me grades. That’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it is for all of my friends who are also homeschooled with private tutors.
“You know what I mean,” she says, glancing back at her book. “You’re not dedicating yourself to school, and you need to because this is supposed to be your senior year. I refuse to be the next face of a college admission scandal, so you better believe I’m not paying off a college to accept you. You’ll have to get in on grades alone.”
“I don’t really care about college,” I say.
“If you want your trust fund, you’ll go to college.”
That shuts me up. My trust fund kicks in when I turn twenty-one. It’s enough money to allow me to do whatever I want for the rest of my life. And all I have to do is attend some stupid college for four years to get it. I take a deep breath and try another approach.
“I apologize about slacking in my schoolwork. I’ll ask my tutors for extra credit and I’ll work harder.”
Mom’s head shakes one time in a sharp, precise no. “You’re leaving tomorrow. You’ve been enrolled in Shelfbrooke Academy and you will finish out this semester with a group of your peers. They’ve agreed to let you take the standardized tests and graduate with a diploma, if you just put in the work.”
“Shelfbrooke Academy? Where have I heard that name before?”
I have very little to do with the east coast, so I’m pretty sure I haven’t dated anyone from there or been to one of their parties while visiting our NYC home.
Mom flips the page in her book. “My sister lives there.”
Oh. The air whooshes out of me. “You’re sending me to school with my cousin Belle?”
“She does attend that school,” Mom says.
I groan. Belle and I are the same age. We were friends when we were little kids, but quickly grew apart. Something about my aunt choosing not to accept the monumental inheritance from my grandmother when she passed away. I don’t remember the story, just that my mom and her sister fought very loudly after the funeral and then I never saw either one of them again.
“Mom, please don’t do this to me.”
“It’s already done.”
“Mom, please.”
“Don’t whine, Sophia, it’s an awful look on you.”
I grit my teeth. I hate when she makes me feel stupid. My mom is not the touchy-feely type. If anything, her assistant Charlie is more of a mom than my own mom.
I take a deep breath and shove all the things I want to say to the back of my mind. Not because I’m trying to be a good daughter or anything, but because I don’t want to give my mom the satisfaction of seeing me angry.
“Guess I’m going to Shelfbend Academy.”
“Shelfbrooke,” Mom corrects, her eyes on her book.
“Shelfbrooke,” I say, mostly to myself so I can remember this stupid school’s name. I want to go back out to the pool and Google and it see exactly what my parents have gotten me into.
I sweep past Charlie and her concerned expression and walk right back outside to our rooftop pool, pretending for all to see that I have no problems at all. I am Sophia Brass, and I don’t have a care in the world. I find my phone sitting in the lounge chair from where it had fallen when I abruptly left a few minutes ago. I pick it up and press a button, then hold into my ear.
“Viv?” I say when she answers. “Told you I’d call you back. We have a problem. A huge, life-shattering problem.”
“Oohh,” Viv says, and I can practically feel her eyebrows wiggling mischievously even though she lives a mile down the beach. The girl loves a good bit of drama. “I’ll be right over.”
Chapter Two
Sittingby the pool is not as much fun when I’m fuming mad. I stretch out my legs on the lounge chair and I close my eyes and let the sunshine warm my face and I take deep, deep, yoga breaths.
It does nothing to help.
I am so mad I wouldn’t be surprised if flames suddenly shot out of my eyes. How could my parents do this to me? They’ve spent most of my life completely ignoring me and letting me do whatever I wanted while under the loose supervision of nannies. Now suddenly they care about my education? This is crap!
