Page 78 of Lucky Shot

And, no doubt, a call home from the headmaster that would definitely be paid attention to.

God forbid I embarrass their name or reputation among the people, the other parents here who they think hold so much clout in their world. Even when my mum and I don’t have the same name anymore.

They’ll come because of it. They have to.

But as the hours wear on and the times between the arriving cars space out, my hopes dwindle, and that pressure in my chest builds until it hurts to breathe. Archie leaves to be with his family, and eventually I’m left all alone in the reception area with no one to wait for.

How can you miss someone who constantly chooses someone else? How can you want someone who keeps letting you down?

“Alexander?”

My mother’s voice at my back feels like the rope tying me to the weight pulling me underwater has been cut.

I spin and run to her, wrapping my arms around her and holding on so bloody tight. She smells the same—like her perfume and her hairspray and the remnants of Monty’s cigar. I squeeze my eyes shut to hide the tears I won’t ever admit I’m crying and memorize the feel of her hands around me and the sound of her voice saying my name over and over.

It’s almost like I’ve forgotten these things whilst living in this rigid, testosterone-fueled environment where every moment is survival of the fittest, smartest, fastest, devious, and entitled.

She puts her hands on my shoulders and holds me away from her so she can look at me. There’s love brimming in her eyes but also clear frustration. “What is all this business about you causing trouble?”

“Just having a little fun.” I needed my mum. If only for a little while.

“A little fun? Monty does not enjoy having our name dragged through the mud because of it.”

“I wanted to see you. I . . .” I blow a breath out to buy myself some dignity in case anyone I know walks by. “You haven’t made it to any of my games or school events or . . . anything. I missed you.” My voice breaks so I clear my throat. “I just wanted to see you.”

“And here I am, but this isn’t an acceptable way to get my attention. Acting out. Making our name talked about in circles like we’re delinquents. It’s just not acceptable, Alexander.”

“It’s Hardy.”

She rolls her eyes and swats at the air. “You and this name change. Your name is Alexander.”

“Not anymore,” I say with a defiance that even surprises me.

She chortles out a laugh as if she’s going to change my name at the same time my whole damn world falls. Monty strides into the room with that air of arsehole-ness to him and a scowl already on his lips.

No doubt he’s pissed I made him miss arse-kissing some captain of industry somewhere or other who probably doesn’t exist. When you feel so threatened by your wife’s son that you ship him off to a boarding school, that says a lot about the character of the man himself.

And yet, it still gets to me, still eats at me, that as much as I love my mum, she’s to blame too. She could have fought harder to keep me. Could have said it was nonnegotiable.

“Alexander,” Monty bellows so that the few people wandering by swivel their heads our way.

I cringe at the sound of my name and hold tight to the only part of my life I still know. The only part I want to hold tightly to.

My dad.

His name.

“Hardy,” I say and square my shoulders. “My name is Hardy.”

He looks down his hawkish nose at me with a disdain even an eleven-year-old can notice. “I will not tolerate you acting out like this again.”

“He doesn’t mean it, Monty. It’s only because—”

“Stop making excuses for him,” Monty snaps at my mother. Heads don’t turn—people here are way too polite to do that—but I see their furtive glances at one another over the prick in the dark gray suit.

It emboldens me.

“You’re the one who spent good money to put me here. Aren’t you proud of the things they’re teaching me?” I taunt. “I thought you’d be awfully proud at the ingenuity of creating an indoor slip and slide.”