She gives me a soft smile and lingering look, but I can read the concern in her eyes as clear as a newspaper headline. Carley’s a natural worrier, and she’s always casting me these long stares, as though she’s afraid I’ll bolt at any moment. I want to tell her she shouldn’t worry. I’m not a runner. I try to face my problems head on because otherwise they have a nasty habit of following you into places you don’t want them to be.
Leaving Rayfort was a notable exception, and I would argue that I didn’t technically run away. I was forced out of town. There was no other choice.
By the time I head to my bedroom, Carley’s passed out on the couch in the living room. She’s an ER nurse at Piedmont, and though I know she loves her job, it takes a lot out of her. Reaching my bedroom door, I open it carefully and slip into the small room without so much as a squeak. I release a small sigh of relief when I close the door, even though it’s not like I’m in a high-pressure situation. I found out months ago that she’s a heavy sleeper. A tornado could go tearing through the front yard and it wouldn’t disturb her.
Which is probably a good thing because if she knew about my nightmares, she’d worry even more.
Kicking off my scuffed white tennis shoes, I switch on the box fan and start to dive headfirst onto the mattress, but my forehead creases when I spot a thick yellow envelope sitting on top of my black comforter. Picking up the envelope, my whole-body tenses. I recognize the sloppy handwriting on the front. It’s from Jenn. She always made the M in my name look like a jagged, lowercase N and she draws a smiley face inside the O.
Jenn’s on the run. She’s not supposed to be contacting me. What the hell is so important that she’d send me mail and risk us both and Carley?
I tear open the envelope to find yet another envelope, though this one is far fancier than the first. It’s white and smooth, and my name and old address in Rayfort are written across the front in flowy black letters. The return address is stamped in the top corner with an elaborate crest of a knight with wings next to it. It’s someplace called Angelview Academy.
In California.
Flipping the envelope over, I’m stunned to find that it’s secured shut with a wax seal. A real seal, with that same winged knight imprinted in the dark green wax. I’m almost afraid to break it, it looks so cool and expensive, but my curiosity is overwhelming.
There are several papers inside, and I unfold the top one first to find a printed letter with my name at the top. As I scan the contents of the letter, my eyes widen and my heart beats faster and faster, until I swear it’s about to burst right out of my chest.
Dear Miss Ellis,
It is our greatest pleasure to extend to you an invitation to attend Angelview Academy beginning this fall semester. Upon review of your transcripts and achievements from your current school, Rayfort High School, in Rayfort, Georgia, we believe your academic and athletic accomplishments meet the level of excellence we look for in all our students. We are excited to offer you the chance to join the AA family.
Angelview Academy is an elite preparatory boarding school beautifully located in Saint Teresa, California, near Malibu. The school has a long, proud history of producing some of the most elite and influential politicians, businessmen and women, and scientific minds this country has ever seen. To be listed among the impressive ranks of Angelview graduates is to be assured success in your life upon leaving our hallowed halls.
We understand, however, that the cost of our institution can prove burdensome to those with limited resources. We do not wish for the burden of cost to deter you from attending our prestigious institution, so in addition to your acceptance, we are also happy to inform you that you have qualified and been approved for a full-ride scholarship, room and board included.
It is our great hope that you view this invitation as a great opportunity and decide to join us for the coming fall semester. We have included the contact information for our Office of Admissions, as well as our Office of Academic Success, should you have any questions.
We look forward to your reply and wish you all the best.
Sincerely,
The Angelview Academy Admissions Committee
I stare at the letter for what feels like hours, certain that this is an epic prank. I mean, how the hell can it not be? Up until five minutes ago, I had never even heard of Angelview Academy, let alone applied to attend. Picking up the crumpled yellow envelope the invitation came in, I study my mom’s shitty handwriting, suspicion narrowing my eyes to thin slits.
This is a Jenn move. Some elaborate scheme Mom has cooked up in her drug-addled brain to try and get in touch with me again to demand money or god knows what else?
But what if it’s real? a hopeful little voice pipes up in the back of my head. What if this is your chance to leave it all behind for good?
I could be rid of the accident and its haunting consequences for good. I could shake off the stain of my mistakes and start fresh.
I’ve always wanted to go to California.
I’ve always wanted to leave Georgia, period.
What if it’s real?
I drop the envelopes and papers back on my comforter and turn for my little desk, where my laptop is sitting. Grabbing the nearly outdated old brick, I fire it up and drop to the floor, my back pressed to my bed. Wisps of dark hair float around my face thanks to the fan, and I drink in the breeze as I wait for my screen to flicker to life. It takes a few minutes, but as soon as it does, I open Google and type Angelview Academy into the search bar.
The school’s official website is the first thing to pop up. I click on the link and explore some of the pages, oohing and ahhing because the place looks gorgeous. The buildings are like English manors surrounded by lush green gardens and brick and cobblestone walkways, and there are a few photos of student events on the beach. Dragging my focus back to the task at hand, I look up the phone numbers for the Office of Admissions and the Office of Academic Success.
Both match the numbers in the letter.
Once again, my heart is speeding out of control, and I take several deep breaths to calm myself.
This can’t be real. It just can’t be. Good things don’t happen to me. Not like this. Not out of the blue. Not at all.
I grab my phone and punch in the number for the admissions office with shaky fingers.
On the second ring, a woman with a syrupy voice answers, “Angelview Academy, Office of Admissions, how may I direct your call?”
“Um…” I scramble for what to say, overwhelmed by the possibility of what this call could mean for me. “I-I just received a letter saying I’ve been accepted to your school, but I didn’t apply, so I’m not sure—”
“Let me transfer you to an admissions representative. Just one moment, please.”
The line switches, and classical music with violins plays. Before I have a chance to gather my wits, another voice speaks into my ear, this one male and youthful and enthusiastic.
“This is Anthony, how can I help you?”
“Uh, hi, Anthony,” I stammer. “My name’s Mallory Ellis. I just received a letter saying I’ve been admitted to your school, but I didn’t—”
“Oh, Ms. Ellis, we’ve been expecting your call.”
Holy shit. “You have?” I manage.