“Best of luck with the girl,” Mr. Winthrop says, shaking my hand.
I immediately think of Ella instead of Aubrey, which makes no fucking sense unless I was thinking he was wishing me luck in convincing Ella to give up being valedictorian. That must be it, although I don’t know why I’d be thinking that. He was clearly referring to my girlfriend, not Ella.
I need to finish this shit with Ella so I can put her out of my head. She talked me into giving her a week to think about it, but I have no fucking clue why I agreed to that. She’s just stalling.She’s not going to change her mind. Maybe I should tell her time’s up and put my plan back into action so we can end this.
She’s never going to win, so why bother trying? She doesn’t understand that this stupid valedictorian title is my ticket to freedom. And I’ll do anything to be free.
Chapter 7
Ella
“Honey, the trimmer,” my dad says, waking me from my thoughts. He’s standing on the other side of the pickup, looking at me with concern. I’m usually the one remindinghimto load the equipment.
“Sorry.” I pick the trimmer up from the sidewalk and put it in the back of the truck.
It’s Sunday, and my dad and I are heading home after a long day of work. We worked even longer yesterday, and it was really hot. I’m exhausted to the point I could skip dinner and go right to bed. It’s not just the work tiring me out, but the stress of worrying what Briggs is going to do to me when I tell him I’m not agreeing to his deal.
He’s giving me all next week to think about it, but I don’t need a week. I already know I’m not doing it. I just needed him to back off for a few days so I could think of a way to stop him, or at least defend myself.
“Everything okay?” my dad asks as we’re driving home.
“Yeah, I’m just tired.” I look out the window as we pass yet another mansion protected by an iron gate. The house is two stories tall and as long as a hotel. The outside is white stucco, like most of the houses around here, with lots of windows, outlined in black trim.
“It’s not that great if you ask me,” my dad says, noticing me looking back at the mansion. “The guy bought it after his wife took off, although last I heard, they’re still married. His kid’s in your class, isn’t he?”
I look back at my dad. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“The kid who plays rugby — tall, dark hair. He’s a good-looking kid, and big for someone his age.”
“You mean Briggs?” I ask, the mere mention of his name making my stomach feel sick.
“Yeah, that’s him. I couldn’t remember his name. His father owns that big investment firm.”
“I didn’t know they moved. Didn’t they used to live in that mansion over by the Selby house?”
“They did, but they sold it and bought the one we just passed. I’m thinking the old place was what his wife wanted and when she left, he decided to get something new. In my opinion, the old place was better. The new one looks more like an office building than a house.”
“How much do you think it cost?”
He shrugs. “I’d guess around twenty-five.”
“Twenty-five million?” I ask, shocked that anyone would pay that much for a house.
“Maybe more with all the land he’s got.” My dad’s so casual about it, like it doesn’t bother him at all that the people in our neighborhood make that kind of money while we make almost nothing in comparison.
Briggs has all that money and lives in a giant house. He’s popular. Good-looking. An athlete. Isn’t that enough? Why does he think he needs to be valedictorian, too?
“You ever talk to his kid?” my dad asks.
“Briggs? No. I hate him.” I shouldn’t have said that. My dad says you shouldn’t hate people. He says it’s too strong a word and that you can dislike someone, but not hate them. But if he knew how Briggs treated me, I think my dad would be okay with me hating him.
“What do I say about—”
“Yeah, I know. I don’t like him. Is that better?” I roll my eyes, but he’s driving and didn’t notice.
“Why don’t you like him? Did he do something?”
“I don’t want to talk about Briggs. He’s just a spoiled rich kid, like every other kid at school.”
