Even though nothing will ever dull the pain of Dad’s demise, there will be a certain amount of comfort to be found in returning to a place where our family made so many good memories. Where life seemed almost idyllic compared to this.
As those thoughts coalesce, forcing me toward a decision, the sound of Kingsley’s ball ricocheting off the bounce back punctures the stillness, destroying the sliver of peace I had found. No matter how much I want to drive him to the outer recesses of my mind and heart, it’s not possible.
He will always be there, pushing at the edges, demanding entrance.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
My gaze slants toward my brother as we drive to school in silence. It feels like we’ve come full circle in the two-and-a-half months we’ve been in Hawthorne. My life is once again my own and we are pariahs at the exclusive prep school.
Since my return home, Austin has grown solemn. I would be more concerned with the change in his behavior if so much hadn’t taken place in such a brief period of time. My gut tells me this has everything to do with the decision we have yet to make. Neither of us has broached the subject since the other night. By unspoken agreement, we’re avoiding it for the time being.
Whether he meant it to, his words about not being able to go home again have been echoing throughout my head. What if we uproot our lives for a second time in a matter of months and nothing in Chicago is the same?
It’s a scary prospect.
My brother hits the blinker, signaling our turn onto school property. The elaborate stone and wrought iron gate looms before us as we roll forward before passing through it. Not so long ago, driving onto the picturesque campus would have unleashed a horde of nerves, making me sick to my stomach. All of these snotty kids with their fancy cars, entitlement issues, and wealth scared the hell out of me. For whatever reason, that’s no longer the case.
My twin parks the car near the front of the building. There is a sea of navy blazers in the parking lot as students stand around in small clusters, laughing and talking. A few watch us from the safety of their groups. We might be Hawthornes, our great-great-grandfather founding this godforsaken town, but that doesn’t matter. We didn’t grow up here and therefore will be considered newcomers until we die. This is the kind of place that takes generations to be absorbed into the fabric of society.
When we moved here, the plan had been to keep my head down and draw the least amount of attention to myself. All I wanted was to get through my last year of high school before spring boarding to college.
And now?
I no longer care if I make waves or if these people have a problem with me. The seismic shift in my thought process has set me free, and it’s liberating. These kids don’t matter. None of this bullshit does.
“You ready to do this?” Austin mutters, drawing my attention back to the present.
“Yup.” More than ready.
As far as I’m concerned, I own this damn school.
It’s my name on the building and my ancestor who founded it. If these people don’t like it or want to resent me for every past transgression my family made, they can kiss my ass. These past months have done their best to break me, but somehow, I’ve managed to survive. I’m stronger than I realized, and there’s something to be said for that.
I straighten to my full height and sling one strap of the backpack over my shoulder. From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Sloane, along with her wannabes. I’ve gone out of my way to avoid a confrontation with her, but that doesn’t seem to be enough.
Even though I don’t have any concrete proof, instinct tells me that she’s the one who knocked me to the floor after lunch. I’ll always wonder if the fall had something to do with losing the baby or if it was nothing more than a coincidence. Her lips curve into a nasty smirk as if she’s privy to the thoughts running rampant through my head.
“That girl is one hell of a bitch,” Austin bites out.
“Yup, she is.” Where Sloane is concerned, I’m tired of taking the high road and allowing her to push me around. Anger bubbles up, threatening to erupt.
I don’t take more than a few steps when her gaze narrows, and she stalks toward us.
Me.
I’m the one she’s gunning for. Already I can see it in her eyes. We’re like two high-speed vehicles destined for a head-on collision. Her friends follow suit, falling in line behind her like some kind of prep school mafia outfitted in matching tartan skirts and blazers. Do they realize how ridiculous they look?