He doesn’t seem to notice me the way I notice him, and it makes sense. I’m not stunning. I’m not the most gorgeous girl in the room. I’m just trying to get by, skate under the radar and make it through to adulthood. I take the stand.
Unlike him I’m not here to defend myself from my own mistakes.
If I were, I'd probably be locked up. The things I’ve done to get here, to have a chance at freedom, they will follow me for the rest of my life. But that doesn't matter. Act by act, brick by brick, I’ve built my way here and now I’ll get what I’ve sacrificed so much for.
I’m claiming my freedom.
It’s time to put away the empty, cold shell I had to become to survive. I don’t know who the new version of myself will be, but I’m ready to find out.
* * *
Two months later
“This is your last chance to make any requests of the state before you are officially emancipated and on your own.”
Heather has her eyebrow cocked at me like I'm being dense for not having anything to say, but honestly, I’m torn between being afraid of saying goodbye to her and wanting her to leave so I can start my new life.
We're standing outside Hannaford Preparatory Academy, and the building looms over us like a ghoul. It looks more like a castle than a school, and there are honest-to-god turrets and an incomplete moat surrounding the building. There’s a bronzed statue of a light horseman in the gardens. The school was built in the 1800s and boasts many presidents and political savants as alumni. The extracurricular roster includes an equestrian program and an Olympic-level swim team. It has a near perfect college acceptance rate from the students who walked these halls, and the waiting list to get in was the stuff of legends. Looking at the building alone makes me feel so intimidated that I consider getting back in the car.
A tingle runs down my spine at the thought of going back to my old school, and I turn back to my social worker. Huh, ex-social worker now. The tingle turns into a shiver and takes over me, despite the warmth still in the air.
“I’m fine. I understand all of my rights, I've done the mandatory counseling, and I'm ready to be a big girl out in the world.”
She snorts, then hands me my case files and the enrollment forms for the head office. She's a brusque sort of woman, not maternal at all, and I think that's why we get along so well. It's weird to think I won't see her again. I’ve gotten used to listening to the comforting Southern tones of her voice.
“You ain't ready for shit, kid. I've left your emergency line on a card in your files if you get into trouble, but you're off my roster now. Try to do well at your fancy school, and stay off the streets.”
What a glowing statement of confidence. I think about giving her a hug but decide against it, and instead I give her a small wave. She gets back in the car and I watch as she drives away. For a second I feel a flare of panic in my chest, but I quickly push that away. It doesn't matter that I'm alone now. I don't need anyone but myself. If my life so far has proven anything to me, it is that I am strong enough to survive anything.
Once the car is no longer in view, I grab the small satchel that holds all my belongings and head up the cobblestone path toward the main building. It’s like a fairy tale here, and if I believed in such things, it probably would have felt like a good omen.
There are students everywhere. The entire grounds are teeming with teenagers, and I'm getting a ton of curious looks. I try not to let it get to me as I walk up to the office. When I make it, huffing and puffing under the weight of my bag, the door is being held open by a group of teenagers and it’s clear they're closely related. They're all dark-haired, blue-eyed, and their facial features look as though they were carved from marble by a master artist. The older boy is smirking at the front desk, and the other two, a boy and a girl, are looking at him despondently, glassy-eyed and utterly bored. None of them spare me so much as a glance.
“Yvette, I really don't care what your policies are, I'm not sharing with Ash. Put Avery in with him. They're attached at the hip anyway.”
The receptionist, a lush woman who is at the very least in her forties, gives him a firm look, but he clearly doesn't care. His shoulders are broad and tight under his blazer. He looks like he’s poised and ready to strike. I press my back against the wall out of habit, a lesson learned years ago. When there’s danger in the room, you don’t leave your back unguarded.
“Mr. Beaumont, as you well know, it is against school policy for there to be co-ed rooms, even amongst siblings.”
He sneers at her and spits out, “I am not sharing. Who do I have to write the check out to? You will give me a single room.”
I scoff at that, but then Yvette is pulling out a ledger and he's handing over a shiny black credit card. This is my first clue at how truly messed up this school’s moral code is.
“And who, exactly, are you?” the girl, Avery, says and I startle when I realize she's talking to me.
“Lips. Lips Anderson. I'm a freshman.”
A smile dances around the edge of her painted lips, but her eyes aren’t amused.
“What sort of degenerate names their childLips?” the boy drawls and, weirdly, it makes me feel kind of boneless. He turns to face me, and I’m struck dumb by the sight of him. That is until I see the disgust on his face. He looks at me like I'm a venereal disease. I choose not to answer him and push away from the wall. I brush past the group to pile all my paperwork up on the desk, feigning confidence, even though I'm kind of shaky. Is the whole school full of gorgeous, rich assholes? The older sibling looks down his nose at me as well before he turns on his heel and stalks out, presumably to go find his new single room. The receptionist ignores me and turns soft eyes onto the remaining boy.
“I'm so sorry. I assumed you would want to share with your brother, Ash. Do you want a single too? I have a spare in the boys’ dorms.”
He smiles, and his whole face changes. My breath catches in my chest and I take note. This boy can use his looks as a weapon, and he very clearly knows it.
“Actually, I'd rather share with Mr. Arbour and Mr. Morrison, if that's possible? I know there's some triple rooms, and we’re probably the best candidates in our year to bunk together.”
Yvette blushes and stumbles over her words. She's quick to take his bait, and it's hard not to roll my eyes.
