I grit my teeth. I hate that word. Brat. I hate it more than the other B word which most people find more offensive. Nope. This word is so much worse to me. I’ve been called it my whole life. It’s not my fault I am the way I am.
I hold the phone close to my ear and I regret the words the second I think of them, but that doesn’t stop me from saying it. “I’m clearly not too old to be a brat, mother, because you’re the biggest brat I know, and you’re twice my age.”
“Sophia-” Mom starts, but I’m done listening. She’s already stuck me in this crappy school in the cold New England weather with my weird cousin. I hang up the phone.
When I turn around, a gorgeous guy is standing there, blue eyes wide as he watches me. I close my eyes for a brief moment. Of course.Of coursesome hot guy was here and heard that whole conversation.
I hold my head high and start to walk away.
“Sophia?” he says, stepping over to block my exit. “I’m Declan. I’m here to show you around campus.”
Chapter Five
My defenses shoot up.My metaphorical walls that protect me from all the rich bullies in my life rise up and protect me. It’s instant. It’s instinctual. Instead of allowing myself to feel embarrassed because this random guy just heard me whining and complaining to my mom, I put on a brave face. I hold my head up, my shoulders back. This guy—what was his name? Declan—is taller than I am. But I have perfected the art of looking down on someone. You must treat everyone as if they have no power over you. No ability to make you hurt. No way to make you feel embarrassed.
You are better than they are. That’s the only way to feel as though you won’t break apart.
I draw in a deep breath and look him over. He’s not wearing the Shelfbrooke uniform, but rather a dark blue jumpsuit with the Shelfbrooke logo stitched on the chest.
“What are you?” I say, letting the tone of my voice convey that I’m better than him. “Some kind of janitor? They sent a janitor to show me around?”
“I’m a gardener,” he says. “I’m also a student.”
I flip my hair over my shoulder. “Why?”
He looks confused for a second, and then shrugs. “Because some people need jobs to pay their bills.”
I roll my eyes, then hold out my hand and wave for him to get started. “I don’t want to keep you from your job, so let’s get on with this.”
He turns and opens a door that leads outside, holding it open as I walk through. I know I should thank him because that’s what decent humans do, but I’m still horribly embarrassed from that phone call with my mother. Normally I wouldn’t think twice about this kind of thing, but as I walk on by without thanking him, I feel bad about it. Maybe because he’s a normie, like Viv would say. He’s not some trust fund jerk that hangs in the wealthy circles in California. He’s just a regular guy. He even has a job at the school. How lame is that?
“Is this your first time a Shelfbrooke?” he asks.
“Yep.”
“What grade are you in?”
“I’m a senior.”
He stops walking for half a second and looks at me, brows curiously pulled together before he keeps walking. “Okay. I’m a senior, too.”
“I know it’s weird,” I say with a sigh. “It’s my parents… they decided to send me here for no reason because it’s only a few months until graduation.”
“Where did you go before?”
“I was homeschooled. Private tutor.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah, it was cool,” I say, clenching my jaw as I remember the good old days, aka-last week. “My parents are the worst.”
“So let me tell you about Shelfbrooke,” Declan says, putting on a cheery smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “We’re co-ed, and we have a long history of being rugby and lacrosse champions. Our mascot is the Black Knights.”
“Sports are boring,” I say. Mainly because I don’t have anything else to say and I’m still so fuming mad about my mom that I can’t think straight. I just want to pick a fight. I want to tear someone down.
“Right, well, we have other things too. There’s five hundred acres and many of them are gardens. Shelfbrooke is famous for them.”
I roll my eyes. “Boring.”
