“I’m so glad you’re back. It was a long week without you,” she says as we continue down the hallway. But something is off. There’re curious stares and hushed whispers from multiple peers as we head to class.
“What’s going on?” I ask Brooke as a random girl stares at me with a smile before she resumes walking.
“Oh,” Brooke holds up her phone. “Looks like you two are the talk of Belgrave.”
Luca did this. Even if he didn’t directly do it, it was him in the video picking me out of the lineup. This is not what I wanted to deal with first thing this morning or at all.
“It was a stupid stunt like everything is with him.”
“Probably, but you have to admit that was impressive.” Brooke continues, “Have you spoken to Everett yet? He looked crushed.”
He was.“No.” My messages and calls went unanswered. Given I only tried a few times since I was busy being buried alive.
“I’m sure he’ll forgive you,” Brooke says.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Did I? I don’t feel like I did, except maybe going to the party and not keeping my ass at home. Luca was the one who stirred the pot. And maybe I should’ve warned Everett about the lunatic. But they were the stooges who voluntarily participated in the shit show.
And a few more morons are joining in the festivities. Remy hoots as he throws his arm over my shoulder. “I missed you, Ivy. Glad you’re back, but don’t start any shit unless I’m around to watch. Got it?” He’s still bellowing idiocy as Cain shakes his head and pulls him along, clearly fussing at him as they continue down the corridor.
“The duchess has returned,” Micah quips as he walks up behind me. “I’d like to witness the show, too, so make sure I’m present as well. Keep in touch.” He turns backwards to give me a wink and disregards Brooke before he continues walking.
“He’s so insufferable,” Brooke grumbles.
As soon as I walk into first period and see Luca perched in the desk, I realize that would’ve been impossible. There’s no warning label strong enough for his level of lunacy. Moving next to him, I hold up the phone to where an unknown number sent me the video. “Thanks for this. Love being the laughingstock of Belgrave Academy.”
Brooke stops beside me. “You’re not a laughingstock. Actually, the comments are positive and mostly say how it’s hot.” When I give her a not-helping-the-situation glare, she moves on and takes a seat at her desk as she utters, “Just saying.”
Luca now decides to open his stupid mouth to say, “Worried your bestie might have to relive his humiliation? Doubt it’ll trend at Willowbrook. I’m sure the Bulldog highlights of him actually scoring will be trending first.”
Luca Montclair is a hopeless, dreadful human being. I feel like I’m dealing with a toddler. Actually worse, there’s at leastsome reasoning with a child. He’s more like a fungus that won’t go away and keeps reappearing no matter what I do.
Pushing past him, I drop into the chair and try to avoid peeking in his direction. My focus is shit. With everything going on, I couldn’t care less about the video. It’s just disappointing to experience the vulnerable side of him, then go right back to the arrogant version.
When I reach into my bag for my phone, my hand touches what feels like a Polaroid. But it’s not the one that was left on my mirror because I’d tucked it away in my dresser drawer and left it buried there. The entire time I had it with me, I couldn’t resist constantly looking at it. Studying it. And trying to figure out who the fuck left it for me.
Did I put it back in my bag? My fingers rub along the smooth surface before I pull out the photo. No. It’s not the same one. But the image is of the same thing—the accident. Only this time there’s a different viewpoint of the wreckage. I’m in the passenger seat, unconscious, but all I can focus on is my mom. She’s twisted up in the wreckage with her eyes closed, blood dripping down her face, shards of glass everywhere.
“Ivy, are you paying attention?” a voice breaks through as I look up, realizing every set of eyes are staring back at me. “Do you have the assignment?” my teacher asks like I’m not staring at a photograph of my dead mother.
Without a word, I gather my things and hurry out the room. I’m scared if I open my mouth, I’ll vomit. And that’s what I do as soon as I step into the bathroom stall.
I concentrate on the hard tile under my legs, the cold metal against my back. Anything to get the image out of my head.
“Ivy, are you in here?” Brooke asks before there’s a pause and she’s beside the stall. “Is everything okay?”
No.“Yeah. I’m fine. I just need a minute.”Or a million.
“Sure. But if you need anything just send me a message. Promise?”
“Yes.” That won’t be necessary because there’s nothing, she can do to pry the horrid sight from my brain.
It’s nearly an hour later before I stand, walking out towards the sink. Thankfully, the bathroom has remained quiet other than the door opening and closing a few times. Only when I step out of the stall, I’m met with an intense gape. Luca leans with his back pressed against the wall and his arms folded across his chest as he watches my every move. “Let me see it.”
“What?” I move to the sink, trying to ignore him.
He shoves off the wall. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
I swish water around my mouth, spitting it out before I take in a deep breath. “I can’t do this right now.” Because I’m not completely certain that it’s not him toying with me.
