Wes is still not saying much.
“Shit!” Max exclaims. “If I’ve been gone for a year, there’s no way my room will be empty. I’ll have to stay with you until it’s sorted.”
I stifle a sigh, but it’s probably for the best. Max is a wild card and at least this way I can keep an eye on him.
"Alright." I take a deep breath, feeling weary to my bones. “Let’s do this. Remember the story: you three were globe-trotting, Wes's brain is blitzed from all the non-stop hedonism. I connected with you in Europe and now you all want to pick up where you left off after your gap year.”
“Where’s our luggage?” asks Max, which is a surprisingly good question.
“Following on behind, lost in transit. I don’t fucking know. How about you come up with an answer for yourself, I’m not your fucking mother.”
He sticks out a bottom lip in a pout. “Aww, Momma’s mad at me.”
“Do you really think the Academy is just going to let us come back?” Dono asks, putting a ballcap on his shaggy head.
“We're Elites. I don’t see anyone making much of a fuss. But I imagine you’ll have to repeat as sophomores; which means I’m now a year ahead of you idiots. Just keep your heads down.” I look pointedly at Max. "And Wes? Follow our lead.”
Wes nods, looking bewildered as we load into the car and set off.
I glance at Donovan next to me in the passenger seat. He’s slumped against the window, running a hand over the new, cheap pants.
He looks shattered.
Gods. I hate feelings.
I hate dealing with other people's emotions. But Donovan Hart is one of the few people on this planet I tolerate.
"He'll come around, Dono," I say quietly, keeping my eyes on the road.
Donovan looks up.
"Obviously, something is wrong," I continue, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. "But he’s strong.” I shoot him a sideways look. "We'll fix him. Whatever it takes."
"Thanks, Cos." I see Donovan nod out of the corner of my eye.
I don’t say anything else, just let the silence settle, giving him space to breathe.
Driving along the road towards the main gates, the last of the evening light disappears. Dono keeps turning back to glance at Wes, looking like a kicked dog every time Wes ignores him.
Fuck.
The guard in the booth glances up as we roll to a stop; looks at a screen as the wards read our personal signatures and with just a bored flick of the wrist waves us through.
No flashing lights, no alarms.
Lowering a window, I throw a bundle of cash at a second guard. “Radio a valet to meet us at Elite Tower. I’m leaving the keys in the ignition.”
“Yes, sir,” he nods, quickly pocketing the money.
A couple of minutes later we pull up outside our building. There are a few students about, but not many. I’m glad of the tinted windows on this thing. Maybe I’ll keep it? It’s a lot more practical than the Lotus.
After a deep breath, I open the driver's door and wish I’d told Striker to pick me up some shades. Surely even strip mall stores have Ray-Bans?
Then the back of my neck prickles. We’re being watched. “Get a move on.”
“Mr. Drakeward?” a high-pitched voice says. I look up to see Dean Crankshawe walking towards me. “You’re back. I’d appreciate a little more notice when you go on a trip during term time.”
“Uh, yeah, sorry.” I do not have the energy for this. “I’ll make sure to keep you apprised of my social calendar from now on.”
