-Declan
“Um, wow,” Belle says, waving the card at me. “This boy is so totally a keeper.”
I grin, because that’s about all I can do right now. He must have spent hours decorating the garden tonight. No wonder he told me to go home early and get some sleep—he wanted to surprise us. And these flowers picked and arranged into a vase is some top-notch romance stuff. Totally hit it out of the park, this one. That’s going to make it even harder to leave him, to leave this garden, to leave everything behind.
A single tear rolls down my cheek.
Chapter Twenty
My phone has been almost comatosesince I moved to Shelfbrooke Academy. Viv stopped calling altogether, and my other friends couldn’t even spare me a text or a Snapchat now that I’m no longer in Malibu, hooking them up with party invites. But it all changes a few days later when I wake up to my phone buzzing on the nightstand.
It’s not just buzzing, it’s practically losing its mind.
I sit up in bed and check my phone. All the noise wakes up Belle, who puts her pillow on top of her head and rolls over.
Texts. Snaps. Even a few missed Facetime calls from friends I haven’t talked to in weeks. Suddenly everyone wants to talk to me.
It takes me a few minutes, two cups of coffee, and one trip down to the dining hall for breakfast to figure out what it’s all about. My mother has decided to reveal her Africa trip to her many adoring fans, via a quick guest appearance on her favorite morning TV show. I find the clip online, and watch my mom, all dolled up and looking half her age, as she tells the hosts that she and my dad are so very happy to be making a difference with this new charity project. Then the tells them that her daughter—me—was sothrilledat the opportunity to help the less fortunate, that I begged to be taken out of school early so that I can come along and help.
Oh, please.
I can’t believe my mom thinks she can trick me like that. Of course I have nothing wrong with helping people, but this charity isn’t some praiseworthy thing. It’s money laundering or tax evasion or some other fancy term for making my parents and all their rich friends even richer all under the shadow of pretending to do good in the world.
The messages from my friends are all a mixture of excited for me, jealous, or that fake kind of happy where I can tell they’re glad I’ll be gone longer and they can rule the party scene without me. But I don’t care. I don’t reply back to anyone. My life is here, in Shelfbrooke, with Belle and Declan who are my real friends.
I ignore all of it and I hang out in the dorm with my cousin.
“Soph,” Belle says, her mouth full of cheese Danish, “I think I’m ready to go back.”
“To the garden?”
She nods, then takes another bite. “I’ve been dreaming about that place. Every single night since we went.”
Me too. But probably not for the same reason Belle dreams about. I can’t stop thinking about that night because that night was the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. Declan went out of his way. He went above and beyond. Just because he wanted to, because he likes me. No guy has ever done that before. I’ve always felt disposable to everyone. Even to my own parents. But not to Declan.
No friend, no family member, no person on earth has ever done something like that for me.
I bite the inside of my lip to keep from grinning like a fool. I’ve been trying to balance my time equally between hanging out with Belle and cuddling with Declan in the garden. Both of these people are so important to me, and both of them feel like secret friends. Declan and I can’t be seen in public, and Belle never goes in public.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll go first and turn on the lights and then come back and get you. What time are you thinking? Midnight?”
She shakes her head. “I want to go in the daytime.”
A million reasons to tell her no cross my mind. It’s too much, it’s too scary, you’ll freak out. But I hold them back. Belle needs me and I’m going to be there for her. So I grin.
“Sounds good to me.”
We spend the next two days practicing. Once before I go to school in the morning, and several times once I get back in the afternoon. Belle has me step into the hallway first, and make sure it’s clear. Then she walks to the door, takes one step out, looks around, and goes back into our dorm.
But now, after dozens of tries, she’s walked all the way down the hall to the exit door with me. I step outside and peer around. A few students are on campus, but no one walks directly this way since students don’t have any reason to go to the staff dorms. So no one is that close to us.
“Want to step outside?” I ask.
Her teeth dig into her bottom lip, but she nods. She’s still wearing the walking boot on her sprained ankle, so her steps are slow, but she presses on, and soon she’s outside. In the sunshine.
“You did it,” I say, beaming at her.
My phone rings.
