Chapter 7
MADDISON
Never in a million years did I think I’d be sitting in a cab, driving up the paved road that leads to the castle-esque building I’ve seen from a distance but never up close.
And up close, it’s breathtaking, with towers, ivory columns, and a gated entrance.
Just behind that is an expansive stairway that stretches up to the entrance of the school, and peaking up toward the sky is the widest set of doors I’ve ever seen.
And don’t even get me started on the landscape, with grass and trees so flourishing they look artificial.
Benches line the quad, along with statues and fountains, and the parking lot looks straight out of some fancy car show—every vehicle probably costs six figures.
I’m quite literally the only person rolling up in a taxi, and the only reason I could afford that was because I was able to work an extra shift yesterday, and my boss gave me an advance.
I would’ve preferred the bus, but it’s a three-mile walk from the nearest bus stop to here, and while I’m up for that kind of walk any other day, I didn’t want to haul all of my luggage.
Moving forward, though, I’ll have to because I’m still working weekends at my old job.
But honestly, I can just run to the bus stop, which will help me keep in shape for tryouts.
After signing the contract to attend here, I did more research and discovered they have walk-ons for the cross country and the track team as long as I can make time, which I should be able to. I just need to get into excellent shape, more than I already am.
“Are you sure you’re at the right place?” the cab driver asks as he parks the cab in front of the curb at the gated entrance. He’s a younger guy with a scruffy beard and tattoos on his knuckles, and he smells of old cheese for some reason.
“Yep,” I reply evasively, wondering how bad this will be if even the cab driver thinks I don’t belong here.
What the hell are the people who go here going to think?
I mean, I’m trying not to judge, but I have this feeling I’m going to draw attention, and not in a positive way.
Not that I give a crap. If I can survive northside, my mom and my dad, then I sure as heck can survive going to a school with a bunch of rich kids.
I have to if I want to get to a better place in my life.
I slide the strap of my backpack onto my shoulder then dig my card out of my pocket to pay the driver. Once the transaction is complete, I collect my other two bags, shove open the door, and move to get out.
“Good luck,” the driver says snidely as I lower my feet to the pavement.
I resist an eye roll and climb out without responding. The moment I bump the door shut, he drives away, and I’m left standing at the gated entrance, staring up at the stairway on the other side.
I’m fairly early, so not too many people are around, but I immediately get confirmation on my original speculation that I’ll draw attention.
I have a pair of sunglasses on, my hair is down in waves and swept to the side, and my gray top reaches mid-stomach.
My wide-leg jeans are in style and everything, but they’re also frayed at the bottom, and my platform sneakers are faded.
I don’t think I look bad or anything, but the people around me are dressed in nice, expensive clothes, and it’s evident that I don’t fit in here.
But, like I said before, I’m not backing out of this deal. So, squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin, I step onto the sidewalk and head toward the iron gate. Between the three bags I’m hauling around, I struggle to get up the stairs.
“You look like you could use some help.” The upbeat voice carries a hint of amusement in it.
When I glance up to see who spoke to me, I immediately grimace.
Finn—aka, the blond guy I saw in jail—is standing a step above me, looking like some sort of Greek god with the sunlight casting across his back and creating a halo of light around him.
Great. The last thing I need is for some guy who saw me in jail to be here, talking to me. Not that I’m that surprised. Even when he was in jail, wealth flowed off this guy.
“I’m good,” I assure him, resisting another eye roll when he grins at me.
I start up the stairs again, trying to look more relaxed than I feel.
The dude turns and follows me. “You don’t look like you’re good. In fact, you look like your legs are going to buckle.” He reaches for one of my bags. “Here, just let me help.”
“Hard pass, dude,” I say as I sidestep him. Then I narrow my eyes. “And don’t just grab my shit without me giving you permission.”
Usually, when I throw attitude at someone like this, they get annoyed. Nope, Finn’s smile broadens as he flashes me his pearly whites.
“All right, fair enough,” he says while stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants.
Before he can open his mouth again, I start walking up the stairs, and much to my dismay, he follows. I try to ignore him, but he’s intent on running his mouth.
“You know,” he says as we near the top of the stairs, “after our first meeting, I honestly thought we’d never see each other again. I guess wishes do come true.”
I throw him a gaping look. “Are you for real right now?”
“What?” He bats his eyelashes innocently at me. “I’m just telling the truth. The night after we met, I made a wish on a shooting star that I’d get to see the beautiful jail girl at least one more time.”
“Oh my God, please, do not call me that,” I hiss under my breath.
Too many people are already staring at me. The last thing I need is for word to get out that I was in jail a handful of days ago.
“No one’s going to care that you’ve been in jail. But if you want me to keep it a secret, I will.” He gives a short pause. “Although, I’m curious why you were in there.”
“Why? Because I look like someone who’s never been arrested?” I reply, my voice oozing sarcasm.
He chuckles. “Yeah, there’s no way I’m going to answer that question. It’s like walking straight into a trap.” He scratches his wrist. He’s wearing a watch that looks like it costs five times as much as everything I own, if not more. “I’m honestly just curious as to why you were there.”
We reach the top of the stairs, and I dig out my phone to open the map I downloaded of the school. “Why were you there?” I challenge, flicking a glance in his direction.
His smile is all Cheshire cat. “I’ll show mine if you show me yours.”
“Hard pass.” I direct my attention to my phone and the map on the screen. It’s overwhelming to look at, with all the paths of sidewalks, the roads, the hallways, the corridors.
“I can show you around, if you need me to,” Finn offers then extends his hand toward me. “I’m Finn, by the way.”
I don’t take his offered hand. “I know.”
A crease forms between his brows. “How do you know?”
“I heard your brother call you that while you guys were in the jail cell.” I chew on my bottom lip, considering his offer.
Letting him show me around wouldn’t be too awful, right?
Except, it would. I don’t want him to think he could use me as a mistress or knock me up and bail.
Not that I think all of them are that way, but I’m not about to risk it.
Plus, I have this rule where I avoid guys in general.
The last thing I want is to end up like my mother—pregnant at eighteen and dropping out of school.
“Thanks, but I’m good.” Adjusting the handle of one of my bags higher onto my shoulder, I hurry forward down the sidewalk and toward the entrance. Thankfully, he takes the hint and doesn’t follow me.
People continue to gawk as I climb higher, finally reaching the set of double doors. I pull one open, and hell, it’s heavy. Like, what are they expecting to happen here? A tornado to blaze through? We’re so in the wrong kind of area for that.
It swings shut with a loud thud as I step inside, and the noise carries down the spacious hallway and bounces against the domed, cathedral-like ceiling.
A handful of people turn to look at me, their eyes sweeping up and down my outfit.
I offer them a sugary-sweet smile, and one of the girls blasts with a nasty look, flips her long, auburn hair off her shoulder, and turns her nose into the air.
I’m getting some Mean Girls vibes here, but every school has them. My old school had a Mean Guys group, and they were the worst.
Turning away from the group, I make my way down the hallway until I reach the main office.
It’s probably the plainest of entrances, but that doesn’t mean it’s plain.
It is a wide, arched brick doorway and above it, engraved in the brick is, “The Main Office of the Royal Academy,” and just above that is a golden crown carved of sparkling metal—the school crest.
Sucking in a breath, I enter through the doorway and step into the room.
A handful of tables are close by, with chairs surrounding them.
A few are occupied with students doing something on computers.
The sounds of clicking keyboards flit through the air, but other than that, the air is silent.
It’s kind of unnerving and something I’m not used to since my old school was always filled with shouting, slamming, and other noises that indicated yet another fight.
Everyone appears content, though, and extremely focused—
“Can I help you?” A voice cuts through my thoughts.
When I glance at the front of the room, where a long counter is, an older woman with dark brown hair and glasses is looking at me with a curious expression.
“Um … Hey.” I hurry up to the counter. “I think I’m supposed to check in here and get a key to my dorm room. I was a late enrollment.”
Again, her curiosity is evident as she glances me over, but she doesn’t sound rude as she turns to the computer and asks, “What’s your name, dear?”
“Maddison Averly.” I set one of my bags down, my shoulder aching from the weight.