Chapter 19
Dad: How has your first week been?
Me: Hell
Dad: Don’t forget to do what I asked.
Hello. I just messaged that my first week was hell, and you said nothing. You’d think a loving father would ask, “Well, now, why was your week so awful, Addie?”
And then I’d reply, “Because that woman you married hates me and that’s why she wanted me to come to this shithole, so I’d be relentlessly bullied by the jockwanks and then I’d fail my end of the bargain with you and she’d win.
” That was what I feared the most—her winning and me failing.
Because if I failed, I wouldn’t be offered the job in my father’s company, and she would have free rein over everything, including my father’s money. I needed to be there to watch her.
And then my father would say, “I’ll divorce her immediately.”
Dream on, Addie.
Me: Remind me.
Dad: Your stepmother's birthday present.
Me: Oh. Right. Okay. Sure.
He was talking about finding old college photos of her. I hadn’t forgotten; I just had no interest in it.
“Is everything okay?” Erin enquired softly. “You seemed a little disturbed.”
“Oh,” I laughed, “I’m already disturbed.”
“Oh my god, the Yorks,” Carrie, the mean girl with short blond hair, was sitting with us at our usual dinner table in the dining hall.
I tried to like her, but she changed the vibe, making it more tense, and I became cautious about how much I revealed about myself and my opinions because I trust her.
I didn’t fully trust Erin and Mila either, but at least they were open and friendly.
Oh, yes, the Yorks. The blonds with the perfect jawline.
“Has James York contacted you yet?” Mean Girl Carrie asked with that tone of ‘I hope he was joking when he asked for your number’.
Honestly, it had crossed my mind that he was joking because I couldn’t see out of all the girls here at Castlehill, why me? It seemed strategic and disingenuous.
I cleared my throat. “No, and I hope not, because it’ll be a busy year and…”
“He’s coming over,” Erin shrilled, and I thought, man, she needs to get out more.
“Adina,” the tall, nice-smelling man towered over me.
“Ah, yes,” I looked up at him as if I had no idea who he was.
“Can I have a word?” he cocked his head to the right, as if that’s the direction he wanted me to go with him in.
I shrugged, “Sure,” and swallowed back my nerves as I grabbed my bag that contained my knife to make sure he didn’t try something stupid.
But then I painted him with the same brush as the Warwicks.
Not all hot, rich jocks were the same, as I was sure some of them were nice and respectful. I should give him a chance.
I glanced back at Mila and Erin and shot them an exaggerated look to lighten the mood as I walked behind the York. He led me outside to a shady corner away from the lampshade. Even though my hot cheeks cooled in the night air, I remained cautious of this man’s intentions.
He stood over me, placing a hand on the wall behind me, reminding me of Ezrah Warwick. I wanted to tell him to cut to the chase because I was hungry and was eager to stack my plate with beef casserole.
“Um, so ah, I’m sorry I haven’t contacted you after asking for your number,” he didn’t seem genuine, but he found apologizing difficult.
“Oh,” I shook my head and slid slightly away from his body, which was leaning towards me, and all I could smell was his cologne.
“Anyway, do you want to go for a walk after dinner? You know, so we could get to know each other,” he asked, then kept glancing at the door as students were coming and going. A distracted man was never a good sign.
“Um, I’d rather we got to know each other in the daytime,” I replied, “since I don’t actually know you, and considering that other families in this shithole were bad people, I think we should have a date or whatever in the daytime.”
He exhaled impatiently. “Okay, lunch. At Scholars?”
“Sure. Where’s that?” I asked as my nerves fluttered about in my stomach, then backtracked. “Wait. I’ll check my schedule to ensure I don’t have class, but going on memory, I think that’s fine.”
“Cool, it’s down Dingle Street,” he told me, then stepped away, raising his eyebrows at a guy waiting by the door who responded to the greeting as if they were up to no good. Immediately, I knew something wasn’t right. “See you at midday.”
“Okay,” I replied, even though I wanted to pull out of the date because I thought he had more of an interest in the students coming and going than in me. Like, I was invisible to him.
My heart felt heavy as I walked back to my table, and the girls were waiting eagerly to hear what I had to say.
“He’s just in one of my classes,” I lied to cover my back in case this thing turned into a disaster.
“No date.” But caught a smirk from Carrie, who seemed relieved that James York wasn’t interested in me.
“That’s a shame,” Erin stated, as I casually searched for him in the mass of students sitting at tables and couldn’t see him.
Eager to change the subject, “I’m going to get a plate of food.” I was so hungry, and if I don’t eat now, then I might punch someone. Avoiding the curious and sympathetic gazes of the girls, I left to grab a plate as my stomach rumbled.
I was craving the beef casserole, hoping it would taste like the recipe Mom used to make.
Even though Dad could easily afford to hire a cook, Mom preferred to prepare and cook the evening meal because she believed that a family that sits together at the table stays together.
She was right because my father loved her deeply, which was why it was a shock when he started dating the woman he’s married to now so soon after my mother’s death.
“Well, well, well,” a deep, mischievous voice crooned, as warm breath swept over the back of my head. “If it isn’t the Boleyn girl.”
“Wrong girl,” I didn’t bother looking at Ezrah because I sensed him before he spoke. I didn’t see him come in, although he’s difficult to miss because he’s so tall and impressive. “Mistaken identity.”
“I can see it’s you, Adina,” he whispered, as I felt something softly touch my ponytail. “I bet you look great with your hair out.”
The beef casserole was in sight, and I kept my focus on that large pot that was shrinking before my eyes as each student scooped out their portions. “I’m sorry, I think you’ve confused me with someone else.”
He snorted. “Good try, Adina.”
Cool air flushed over my back as he left my side, and I searched for him to find that he was walking to a table…
oh, Robbie from the gym and other lookalikes were slumped in chairs.
I was certain they weren’t there when I walked in, so they must’ve arrived just now while I was up at the buffet, drooling over the beef casserole.
Get out of my way and give me that beef casserole now.
Finally, I arrive at the large casserole pot and use the huge serving spoon to scrape the bottom and pile it onto my plate.
Nothing else mattered at that moment than me eating that beef casserole.
After grabbing a knife and fork, and felt relieved that I could finally fill my empty stomach with a nourishing meal.
As I headed back to my seat, I was aware of the many pairs of eyes watching me, and I started to feel nervous that I might trip up and drop my plate. That would be the worst thing ever. Dropping an entire plate of beef casserole in front of the Warwicks, who were three tables away from the Yorks.
Carrie, Erin, and Mila were in the throes of a conversation as I approached, and then suddenly stopped talking when I arrived, and I tried not to allow my mind to go down that insecure road of assuming they were talking about me.
Creating imagined dramas only makes life harder, so I pretended I hadn’t noticed, and when I sat down, I said, “You’d think those pricks would have a dining hall closer to their frat house.”
“The Yorks?” Erin asked, wondering who I was talking about.
“Well, yes, them too, but I was actually referring to the Warwicks,” I clarified. “It’s a long way to travel just for dinner.”
“Maybe the food is better here,” Mila suggested, as she watched what they were doing, while my back was turned to them. I was tempted to look behind me, but that would reveal I was interested when I wasn’t.
“Maybe they’re keeping an eye on you,” Mean Girl Carrie said with a clenched jaw, so it came out sounding slightly malicious.
“I hope not,” I replied honestly.
“Aren’t your family enemies?” she pressed, and I looked to Mila to read her face, as I had confessed to her the day I arrived, who the Warwicks were to my family.
It’s no secret, and I didn’t care if discussions were had about this subject behind my back, but I wanted to know who was on my side and who was on theirs.
Because at that moment, I felt very much like a one-person army.
There was an awkward silence as they waited for me to answer Carrie, and luckily, Mila spoke up to change the subject, “I bumped into Ashthorn earlier.”
“Oh god,” Erin scoffed, “He’s crazy. Pretty and hot, but totally cray cray.”
Mila’s eyes were gaping as he leaned forward and said, “He was in Morgana again.”
“Really? How did he get in? I mean... is he a resident?” I stressed, poking my fork into a piece of beef and shoveling it into my mouth, and it tasted so good. Not as flavorsome as my mom’s, but good enough to satisfy my hunger.
She scrunched her face in concern, and her fingers brushed her lips' cuts from the razorblade in the cupcake incident. The cuts had faded significantly, but were still visible and continued to trigger guilt in me. “I’m not sure. He was in the kitchen and asked me if the bowl of food belonged to me. God, why would he be irate over a bowl of food?”
“But there’s only about four people I’ve noticed in Morgana… wait. Maybe he’s in the room beside you on the third floor?” I suggested that as my heart rate increased while I moved closer to solving the mystery of who was in room 18.
“I still haven’t seen anyone emerge from that room, but I’ve heard them twice,” she explained.
“What sort of noises?” Erin asked, fascinated, eyes gaping in wonder. “Not sex noises?”
“What girl would have sex with him?” Carrie added in that tone. “He barks at girls to make them scream, so I wonder how he’d even ask them on a date or up to his room when he can’t even speak to girls properly.”
“Barks?” I questioned, as that particular behavior reminded me of someone, “Like a dog?”
Mila laughed. “No. I meant…furniture scraping across the floor, and last night I heard them opening the window, so I poked my head out of my window hoping to catch them, but no, I didn’t see a thing.”
“What about music?” Carrie added as she chewed the meat off the chicken leg in her hand. “Deathcore or whatever it’s called.”
“No, I haven’t heard any music,” Mila replied as it dawned on me who the great-great-grandson of the recluse Ashthorn is. And it wasn’t the person in room 18.
“Wait. What is Ashthorn’s first name?” I asked as a boom of playful shouting interrupted my question. I followed the shouting, and it was the Warwicks and the Yorks hurling insults at each other.
Mila replied, but I didn’t hear her answer.
“Sorry?” I pressed.
“Lev,” she replied, “Lev Ashthorn.”
“Oh,” the pieces finally clicked into place. I was right, but I still felt the need to defend him since I was the only person at the table who had spoken to him. “He’s not so bad. Not as bad as he seems. I mean... he’s not the most friendly and sociable guy, but I don’t mind that.”
“He’s only nice to you because of the Warwicks,” Mean Girl Carrie pointed out. “He’s basically their spy, which explains why he’s in Morgana to watch over you.”
“How do you know?” I snarled back at her.
“Because he’s basically their adopted brother, like the Warwicks took the Ashthorns in because they were so poor. I thought everyone knew that,” she hissed back at me as if I was stupid, but I had more questions, so I needed to remain civil.
“But how is he so poor when his great-great-grandfather owned this place?” Another mystery to be solved, but my heart went out to him.
It explains why Lev kept his distance from people.
“There’s so much land and a damn castle.
His great-great-grandfather must’ve been a very wealthy man, so where’s the money? What happened?”
Carrie shrugged, “I don’t know.”
Another boom of laughter and mockery jolted the entire hall, and I looked back at the Warwicks, and they were now on their feet, threatening the Yorks face-to-face.
“They're gonna fight,” Erin stated wide-eyed and excited, staring at them across the great hall.
I couldn’t care less because I was more interested in my beef casserole. So, I leaned over my plate, focused on eating as shouts were fired across the hall, followed by furniture crashing on the floor.
“That’s enough!” A cook came out from behind the serving counter and bellowed at them while holding a large soup spoon, but unfortunately, it didn’t make any difference.
I shoved another piece of beef into my gob as more shouting and crashing erupted, making me nervous because my back was turned to the clash and I couldn’t tell if a chair was about to be thrown my way.
“Watch out,” Mila yelled just as I felt a slap of something warm and damp on the back of my neck. Okay, I had had enough. It was time to go. Under a rain of flying food, I grabbed my plate and hurried out the door to my room.