I sink lower in the seat.
“I have a reputationanda rule.” Pushing the glasses below the bridge of his nose, he smirks. I imagine if he had gum, he’d pop it in my face. “Rides are only free to girls who are willing to let me plug one of their holes with my dick.”
He waggles his brows and I want to barf. His mirthless chuckle gut-wrenching.
“Unlike Dad, I don’t do handouts, so out.”
I swallowed thickly. He was serious.
“Out!” he orders.
“How will I know where to go?”
He sighs. “You’re good at capitalizing, I’m sure you can figure it out.”
Our matching glares level between us. My jaw grates when his look turns knowing. He doesn’t know anything.
I spit out the words through clenched teeth, seething. “Why don’t you say what you really mean.”
“What did you do with all that money Dad gave you?”
A reserved smile tugs at the edges of his mouth when I don’t respond immediately. My stomach revolts, that thing inside me drowning.
Reaching for the handle, I yank the door open, storming out. Finn doesn’t miss his chance, speeding off down the road, the smoke from burning rubber hazing the air with a dark fog.
I release a ragged breath. Forcing myself not to dry heave as I follow the smell of burning tires. The tangy carbon smell the perfect distraction.
By the time I reach the building, the school’s front yard is mostly empty except for a few straggling students. Relief swells inside me, I made it.
The brick building is prestigious, old. Large Greek columns run along the front border. Ivy wraps around the base, traveling upward along most of the exterior.
Last night Abram never mentioned the name of the school, but now, the oversized gold letters mocked me. Insulting me for the fool I am.
Kellet Preparatory Academy.
The welcoming letters are a sham.
seven
Rory
Thesecretarysittingbehindthe counter doesn’t acknowledge me.
She’s old, like, should have retired decades ago old. Her hair a stringy gray pulled back into a bun. Wrinkles everywhere. Gobs of them overloading her face and neck.
Makeup so thickly applied you might think she frosted a cake this morning instead of putting on foundation. The age spots still peeking out.
A slow smile creeps across my face seeing the brass nameplate. I snort a laugh, finally gaining her attention. The dirty stare she gives me telling me she isn’t impressed with the noise.
How can you blame me with a name like Anita Cox though? She didn’t have a say in her name, but she opened that book when she chose to work at a school full of immature teenagers.
Her fingers fly along the keyboard when I give her my name.
She looks down at her watch, clicking her tongue. “You’re late. We have a strict tardy policy.”
“An unforeseen circumstance popped up,” I snap when she messes with the strap instead of pulling up my file.
“It’s Aurora Hale.”