“Sorry,” Sarah repeated, whether she meant it or not. “Monday, then. Besides, it’s a good chance to bond with your new friends.”
Friends? I didn’t have any. I nodded, my legs unsteady, and watched the door close as laughter from the dining hall drifted in.
My eyes watered. I rubbed them and let out a thin, shaky breath.
“Let me guess—she wouldn’t let you call?”
I turned. Teagan leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed.
“No.”
“I thought you knew the rules. We should’ve told you.”
“I didn’t know they took our phones either,” I said. Not that it would’ve stopped Dad from sending me here. If anything, it made the school look more impressive.
“Your parents seemed so lovely,” Teagan said, tilting her head. “I’m sorry you couldn’t talk to them.”
The urge to correct her—only Dad was my parent, and he wasn’tlovely—scratched my throat. I swallowed it down and forced a smile. “Thanks.”
“Anyway.” She picked at a nail. “About Bree—don’t sneak out, yeah? Her fault or not, it was stupid. Our parents pay thousands for us to be here. It wouldn’t kill us to be grateful, but sneaking out could.”
Did Teagan’s parents pick this school for her, or did she choose it? I almost asked, but she stepped closer, squeezed my arm, then knocked on Sarah’s door.
Heart pounding, I retreated and hurried back to my room.
Sneaking out probably wouldn’t please my lovely parents, but the idea of stuffing a bag and getting the hell out kept me going.
***
Getting away with one pink suitcase was ridiculous. I grabbed my denim backpack and packed only the essentials—my diary, the books Asher had given me (El Principito included), my wallet, and a change of clothes so I wouldn’t be caught in uniform.
The pack bulged, but it was a small price for freedom.
Night fell over Willowbrook, the woods around the school sinking into shadows. Everyone was in the common hall watching a movie. It was now or never.
I slipped out of my room, gripping my backpack with sweaty hands, my heart galloping, mouth dry. Next to the kitchen stretched the yoga hall—the only Willowbrook tradition I didn’t hate, close enough to dancing and stretching to almost feel like freedom.
The space was airy, potted plants lined the windowsills, and French doors opened onto a manicured backyard of flowerbeds and hedges. Doors with a key hidden beneath a potted ficus. Bree’s escape route. Mine, too.
From there, it was only a short trek to the woods. Skirt the gates, find a gap in the fence, and…
Cold sweat prickled my neck. I had no idea what came after. No phone—Sarah had that locked in her office. Still, cars would pass eventually. I only needed to reach Oakwood Springs and call Asher.
Or maybe not. He was racing this weekend. I wouldn’t make him worry.
I quickened my pace, sneakers squeaking on the freshly washed floor. The door loomed ahead. Six more steps. My pulse spiked. I gripped the handle and pulled.
A whiff of pine polish stung my nose. I blinked, searching for the ficus pot. Freedom was within reach.
“¡Alto!”
The sharp command froze me. Damn it.
Alba shifted on the windowsill, legs dangling, a sigh slipping from her lips. “I hate it when people are so predictable.”
So,nowshe was talking to me? My patience frayed. “And I hate it when people can’t mind their own business. Pretend you didn’t see me.”
I lunged for the plant, but she lifted her hand. Keys jingled from her long fingers. “¿Es esto lo que estás buscando?”Is this what you’re looking for?
