Chapter One
“Rise and shine, princess.” The snicker makes me stir, but it’s the icy water raining down on me that wakes me right the hell up.
“What the fuck?!” My shout comes out half choked as I struggle to breathe against the stream of freezing cold water raining down on my face.
“Welcome back to Echoes Cove, Octavia. You may be the nation’s Princess to the rest of the world, but here, I’m the Queen. You better not forget it.” My vapid bitch cousin, Blair, flicks her long, blonde hair over her shoulder before spinning and leaving the pool house I’m currently calling home.
I lie back down on the wet sheets, in a pool of icy water, and curse my dad for being so fucking selfish once again. Thanks to him, I’m trapped in Echoes Cove for senior year, and I am obviously not wanted around here, by anyone. Unfortunately for everyone involved, I’m trapped in this hellhole for at least ten more months until I graduate. My eighteenth birthday cannot get here fast enough, at least then I can move out of this house of horrors.
Taking a deep breath, I push myself up and out of bed, not caring about my wet hair or pajamas, and strip the bed. I know my aunt and uncle have staff for this sort of thing, but one, it’s so not cool to leave this kind of mess for someone else; and two, I want the mattress to actually be dry when I go to sleep tonight. Luckily, the bed is in the middle of the room, so if I keep the curtains open it should heat up plenty and dry everything out.
The pool house, where I’ve been shoved like a toy no one wants to play with, is deceptively big. I have my own kitchenette—not that I can cook to save my life, but I keep the mini fridge stocked with peach iced tea, and all the things I need to bake red velvet cupcakes in the cupboards, should the urge hit me. The headboard of the bed sits against the counter, which is convenient when I want water but can’t be bothered to get out of bed, and there’s a small sofa to the left of it where there is a small living space. Two of the walls are basically just giant panes of glass, so it looks bigger than it is. Luckily, the curtains in here are all blackout, so I can get some half decent sleep.
Once I’ve wrestled the sheets into the hamper, I take a deep breath and repeat the mantra that has gotten me through the past few weeks.
I can get through this. It’s just under a year. I can survive this.
I pull my wet, chestnut-brown hair into a messy bun, pull on some dry yoga pants, pocket my earpods, and trudge over to the main house, wet t-shirt and all. I don’t have any fucks left to give about what the people in there might think of me. Thankfully, the blistering summer heat means I won’t be cold or wet for long.
“Good morning, Miss Royal. How are you this morning?” Pattie, my aunt and uncle’s cook, cleaner, and well, general caretaker, smiles at me warmly as I enter the kitchen from the back of the house. Her smile drops when she takes in my appearance, but I shake my head.
“I’m fine.” I give her a tight smile, and hope the shake of my head is enough to keep her from peppering me with questions as she has done every morning since I arrived. My father’s death was originally ruled as suspicious, and everyone seems to have their own opinions on that. Despite my requests not to talk about it, everyone wants to tell me their theories, even though that ruling was overturned. It took two weeks before they deemed it a suicide, during which I stayed with Mac and the rest of the team. My found family. But after the cremation, and reading of the will, child services dragged me here despite my protests.
Out of everyone in this place, Pattie’s been the nicest since I arrived two weeks ago, though the bar here has been set pretty low. But she, at least, has treated me like an actual human being.
“If you’re sure.” She frowns as she looks me up and down again, but then forces a smile as I shift from foot to foot and try to look anywhere but directly at her friendly face. “Food is on the table in the breakfast room. If you need anything else, please let me know.”
“Thank you, Pattie.” I turn and head toward the breakfast room, trying not to laugh. Who the fuck has a room just for breakfast anyway? This McMansion is beyond insane, and for the umpteenth time, I can’t help but be kind of glad I’m in the pool house. At least I can’t get lost out there.
“Good morning, Octavia.” My aunt’s shrill voice makes me wince. Fuck ever having a hangover around her. Her voice is squeakier than a fucking dog toy. “I assume from your current state, you fell into the pool on your way to the house?”
Blair snickers from her chair, hiding it terribly as a cough, but my aunt and uncle are too busy scowling at me to notice. Though my aunt has had so much work done, it’s hard to tell if she’s frowning at me or if that’s just how she looks now. Almost everything about her is devoid of life and emotion. Even her platinum hair hangs straight and dead.
My uncle brings his newspaper back in front of his potbelly and rounded face, his disapproval very much evident from the narrow-eyed look he gave me. Though his sparse hair doesn’t exactly help the thinning look, his dark combover just makes me laugh. “In the future, I expect you to be dressed before you come for breakfast. I don’t care how you lived when you were with your father. While you’re living in our house, you’ll follow our rules.”
“Sure thing, Uncle Nate.” I sigh as I slip into the spare chair opposite Blair. Her smug look is almost enough to make me lose my appetite, but I’m not about to give up the joy of food because of her.
“You need to go to the office when you get to the school,” Aunt Vivienne starts, and I clench my jaw in preparation for the deluge of bullshit that’s getting ready to spew from her lips. “The office administrator will have your schedule and locker designation for you. Your uniform is hanging in your closet, Pattie collected it for you on Friday… And before I forget, you haven’t sent over your rent payment. I suggest speaking to your bank and having a regular payment set up so we don’t have any issues while you’re staying here.”
“Yes, Aunt Vivienne,” I grind out. Paying them rent is my penance for my father leaving everything he had to me, with no limitation and no guardian to watch my money until I turn eighteen. Well, so long as I graduate ECP with a 4.0 GPA, but that's beside the point. Hell, the only reason I’m staying here is because of the clause in my father’s will, stating I must actually reside with my guardian until I come of legal age. Stupid fucking clause if you ask me, since I’m financially independent, but what’s a girl to do? “I thought I’d have to meet with the guidance counselor to pick my classes?”
She looks down her nose at me and tuts. “If you’d paid any attention to the brochures I put in the pool house, you’d know that isn’t how things work at Echoes Cove Prep. Your classes are picked in advance so they can build the schedule. You were a late enrollment, so you should be thankful you have a spot there at all.”
I nod and take a deep breath, pushing down all the spiteful comments that threaten to rise. I reach for a bagel, and Vivienne clucks, looking down her nose at me with a quirked eyebrow. Got to love the disapproval coming from her in waves.
“Carbs will do horrible things to your hips, Octavia,” she scolds, and I roll my eyes, slathering the bagel in cream cheese and taking a bite anyway. I’ll be damned if I’m letting these assholes dictate any more of my life to me than they already have power to. I’ll eat whatever the hell I want.
“She’s a lost cause, Mother. I mean, just look at her. She’s not going to fit in at school at all. I don’t understand why she’s coming to the prep anyway. I’m sure Octavia would feel much more comfortable at public school,” Blair whines. She makes it out like she’s doing me a favor, but if her little show this morning is anything to go by, she doesn’t want me anywhere near her school. I have no idea why, though. The last thing on Earth I want is her perceived crown. She can keep it. Popularity contests don’t interest me in the slightest. I’d rather have a small group of true friends than the masses kissing my feet just because they feel like they should. Life with my dad on the road taught me that much. Fake friends are not the way forward.
I finish my bagel, drowning out their inane drivel by slipping one of my ear pods from my pocket into my ear. If nothing else, I will always be a child of music. Music is my higher power—my soul needs it to survive. Once I finish my food, I push away from the table, not saying a word since no one is paying attention to their newest inconvenience anyway, and head back to the pool house to find my uniform. Maybe Echoes Cove Prep won’t be worse than being here with a group of people who couldn’t feel any less like a functional, loving family.
I snort.Yeah right.Here, at the house, there’s only Blair. At school, there will be an entire fucking herd of mini-Blairs. Once upon a time, I went to school with most of these people, but that’s before my mom split and my dad hit the big time with his music. Both of their families were richer than God, though after my mom left, they disowned us both. Thankfully Dad had his own money, so life wasn’t turned upside down anymore than it already had been. When we went on the road, he had huge arguments with my grandparents, but I was never close to them. They died not long after we left… It feels like a lifetime ago now.
I’m not the same person I was back then, and I don’t expect anyone else to be either. Life on the road, with my dad, his band, the roadies… They are my people. They helped shape me into the person I am today, and I’m glad. I think if I’d grown up here, I’d be just like Blair, and the thought alone makes me want to yeet myself through a plate glass window.
After going back to the pool house, I lock the doors from the inside, double checking them since I’m pretty sure I locked them last night and Blair still got in. Once I know it’s secure, I head toward the shower. The bathroom is one of the only redeemable qualities about being forced to live here. The shower is legit becoming my fortress of solitude. I never want to leave. After living in hotels and on a tour bus for years, a good shower is something I’ve learned to appreciate.
I don’t rush. It’s just fucking school, and I’ve never really been a high maintenance kind of girl, so why be in a hurry? I smother my hair in my honey and vanilla shampoo that I discovered when I was in the UK, and I refuse to ever go back. When I put the conditioner on, I use my honey soap that I ship in from Marseille. It’s to die for, and I just adore the smell. I enjoy the solace of my morning, knowing that once I leave here, my peace isn’t likely to last.