They are targeting everyone walking by.
I would not say the kids at Prep hate me. That’s a strong word. But I am not one of them. I’m the weird girl who lives in the Alumni Inn attic. And before that I was the weird girl who lived in the gardener’s cottage.
When they notice me coming towards them, a few of them do target me with their pranks, but most of them just look sad. They feel sorry for me. And they stare.
One kid—not even a senior, so he shouldn’t even be involved in the fun—takes aim at me. But I’m too far away to hit with his massive water gun. Then the other kids pull him back and start whispering in his ear.
I turn away before I can see the look of pity on his face.
Because today I am the girl with the dead mother.
I head towards the woods, take the long way around the art and lit buildings, and cross over onto the High Court College campus. The admin building intersects both campuses right down the middle. And while there is a high stone wall all the way around the college campus, there are also wide gates that allow access inside.
That’s my route today.
And what the hell? I might as well enjoy the beauty of this place one last time before I have to move on. Because I know what’s coming. Probably everyone knows what’s coming.
My days here are over. They died with my mother two weeks ago in that car crash.
I pass through the wide gate that leads into the college side of the campus and let out a long breath.
There are far fewer people over here. The cottage houses that act as dorms for the college are all in the woods near the stadium. So while it’s probably a madhouse in the parking lots, over here it’s relatively quiet. Just a few dozen smaller groups hanging outside the admin building.
I climb the steps and I’m just reaching for the door when it comes slamming open and I jump back in surprise, stumble backwards, and then crash into a girl coming up directly behind me.
The cause of the crashing door is a tall student. Big and muscular and smells like he slept in a brewery last night.
The girl I bumped into pushes me aside and then she and he are face to face, scowling at each other.
The muscular boy growls at her. “Watch where you’re fucking going, Mona.”
“Suck my dick, Cooper.” She places one hand on his broad chest and pushes him out of her way, then disappears through the open door.
I stare at her back until the door closes and obstructs my view. Then I look up at the boy.
He is not a boy. Definitely a college student. Because he is massively tall and has enough scruff on his face to pass for an adult. And hey… do I know him?
“What the fuck are you looking at, you stupid whore?”
I step back from the venom in his voice and mumble, “Sorry,” even though I have nothing to be sorry about. He’s the one who came crashing through the door at us.
“Fuck off, Cadee.” He practically spits my name.
I’m so stunned that this hulking, handsome man knows my name, I start stuttering. “W-w-what?”
“Quit fucking looking at me. I told you I never wanted to see your face again, didn’t I? Why the hell are you here in front of me?”
That girl—Mona—she called him Cooper.
“Cooper?” I say. Jesus Christ. He’s… changed.
His hand comes out and pushes my shoulder so hard I stumble backwards again. “Get the fuck out of my way.” And then he’s hopping down the steps and heading towards the student cottages in the woods.
I watch him as he weaves his way through the central gardens—the gardens my dead father planted years and years ago—until he disappears into a crowd.
Holy hell.
That’s Cooper Valcourt?
Damn. He grew up since I last saw him three years ago.
The door to the admin building comes crashing open again and I realize I’ve been standing in front of it for almost a full minute staring at a boy.
I collect myself, slip through the door before it closes, and exhale in a rush.
I will not think about Cooper Valcourt. Ever.
Especially not today, when my whole world is falling apart.
I push my way through the crowds in the lobby until I get to the stairs that lead up to the second floor, and then start climbing them.
The main reception area in front of Chairman Valcourt’s office is almost overflowing with waiting students. None of whom I recognize since they are all college-age and I have made staying out of sight a priority since the last time I bumped into Cooper Valcourt.
That was three years ago and didn’t happen in front of the admin building—it happened in my brand-new bedroom in the attic of the Alumni Inn.
I snap back to attention when Laurie—Chairman Valcourt’s assistant—calls a name out in a very loud voice. “Mona Monroe! Are you here?”
The girl who told Cooper to suck her dick pushes her way through the crowd. “Get out of my way, jerks. Do you mind? Coming through!” She has long, dark hair with wild, unruly curls that perfectly matches her dark eyes and black tank top. She’s sexy. In every way possible. She’s got the curves, the pouty mouth stained red with glossy lipstick, and the black stilettos that make her look more like a stripper than a student who graduated high school last night.
I don’t know Mona Monroe, but I’ve seen her around, of course. She went to Prep and the Monroes own one of the lake mansions. The one next door to Cooper, now that I think about it. One of the three you can actually see from the window behind Laurie’s desk.
“Jesus H freaking Christ! Can you get out of my way?”
She was the best athlete on the swim team and was probably on her way to the Olympics—because that’s what kids with her family status do when they’re good at something. They take it all the way—but she got caught doping in her sophomore year of high school and was pretty much banned from the sport.
She’s been something of a clichéd rebel ever since.
Anyway. Mona opens Chairman Valcourt’s office and slams the door closed behind her with such a bang, the entire packed room goes eerily quiet.
We all stand there, kinda stunned. And then the screaming starts on the other side of the door.
“Cadee Hunter! Are you here?”
“I’m here!” I call out to Laurie, and then push my way through the crowd like Mona did, minus the harsh language.
The screaming on the other side of that door is still happening when I finally make it over to Laurie’s desk. And it’s not Valcourt yelling.
It’s Mona.
I look at Laurie. “What is going on?”
“Mona,” Laurie says. She’s a middle-aged woman who collects pencils in her bun the way other people collect pens in a drawer. She currently has four of them sticking out from her head in various directions. “Those two will never see eye to eye. If she were smart, she would’ve gone somewhere else for college.”
“Hmm.” I don’t have a lot of opinions on the college plans of the High Court Prep rich kids. I can’t even get into the local community college unless I take the GED because they are refusing to accept my mother’s homemade high school diploma. So I have zero feelings about Mona’s decision to stay here.
But, if you think about it, why would she go anywhere else? Her family legacy at High Court goes all the way back to when this campus was nothing but a one-room schoolhouse on the edge of Monrovian Lake.