43. Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Three
Emma
The whole campus is buzzing today, and the sun is especially bright as I dodge wild stares from passersby on my way to the dining hall. I must resume some semblance of normalcy, even while the student body incinerates me with their eyes.
Evangeline waits on the Central Lawn, sitting on one of the iron benches with a book in hand, until I block the sun.
“Well, if it isn’t the social pariah.” She smiles.
“I suppose it was my turn to be the talk of the town. Can’t let Olivia have all the fun. Speaking of, where is she?”
“Still in go mode, with the big performance coming up.”
“Right. Cinderella.”
We link arms, walking hand in hand to the dining hall. I don’t expect I’ll see Dacre there. I’m not sure how long it will take for him to talk to his grandfather, but it’s got to be a long, unfun process. I tried to get ready quickly and get moving so I wouldn’t think about it all morning.
“I have a lot to tell you.”
“Oh, good. I have the whole morning off to prep for my midterm.”
There’s a long line in the dining hall that, thankfully, hides us well in the bustle and the scent of freshly baked croissants and warm, honey-glazed ham. As soon as I reach for a plate, I feel eyes on the back of my neck. I’m used to being watched, but this is heavier.
Luther and Verity are seated together at a table, both facing the line with their plates empty. They have probably already eaten. Wait. No. Their plates are completely clean. They’re camped out, waiting for something.
“Miss Osborne. You’re late.”
My sister and I both turn. Miss Mulberry is perched in front of us, with her frames falling down the bridge of her bony nose. She’s the associate dean, a member of the board, and clearly standing in front of us for a reason.
“Oh, my apologies. Miss Evangeline Osborne, you’re late.”
“Late for?” My sister’s vacant expression sets alarm bells off in my head.
“You have orientation.”
“For one of my midterms? I’m not part of any clubs.”
“No, the Donor Program.”
We both still.
“I’m sorry. You’re mistaken,” she says. “I never signed up.”
“Orientation starts at 6 a.m. sharp. I received your paperwork on my desk first thing.”
“I . . . I didn’t sign up.”
Ms. Mulberry presents a piece of paper with her signature, and it looks like the little loopy squiggles of my sister’s handwriting.
But Evangeline would never knowingly sign up for the Donor Program.
She’s afraid of needles and has never had anything nice to say about the program since my mother’s passing.
“I don’t remember signing this. Unless . . . I signed some papers to apply for Doxlothia’s summer program, but there’s a mistake. I don’t want to be in the Donor Program.”
“I’m sorry, your approval has already been put into the system. Come on. We’ll go to the orientation, and it will ease your fears.” She pokes her bony finger into my sister’s shoulder and ushers us toward the door.
“Wait!” I spring into action, trailing behind my sister. “This is clearly a mistake. There must be something you can do.”
This woman has a death grip on my sister’s arm, and nothing I’m saying is swaying her.
I grab my phone from my pocket and text the family group chat, which now includes Parker.
SOS. Someone help me.
That’s all I manage before we reach the office on one of the lower levels of the castle. She leads my sister into a full room of students, all sitting and watching a projector screen while a monotone voice explains the various Donor Program processes.
“Here you will receive your badge, and they will prepare you to be a doner.”
“I want to talk to the dean.” Eva’s voice wavers.
“You can . . . after your orientation.”
“But—”
“I’ll fix it. I told Dad—” My words are cut short as Ms. Mulberry shuts the door in my face.
My blood chills as I remember what Dacre told me at the estate: “Don’t accept the gala invitation, and don’t sign anything.”
I thought he was being overprotective, but Dacre knew something. I snatch my phone out of my pocket.
The group chat is pleasantly urgent as the cavalry departs from their respective sports activities and we plan a rendezvous in Dad’s office.
I check my messages again.
Nothing. I type another message:
I need to talk to you. Call me ASAP.
I bang on Dacre’s door for the fifth time.
He has to be back already. The sun has gone down, and I’ve heard nothing from him since this morning.
Every minute of silence adds to this pit in my stomach.
Something must be wrong. Would Dacre’s family hurt him?
I’ve seen enough to think they might. But surely, someone who is supposed to be the Everhart heir isn’t easily disposable. My heart jolts at the thought.
I try again, hopeful he might finally answer, wrap me in a hug, and tell me everything will be okay. The comfort of his scent is still there, faintly clinging to my clothes.
“Looking for someone?”
I jump at Luther’s voice.
“What are you doing here?”
Luther is propped up against the wall. “Looking for your lover boy?”
“It’s none of your business. Don’t you have something better to do, like making the culinary club hate me?”
“He’s ignoring you, isn’t he?” He taps on Dacre’s door. “See, you don’t know Dacre like I do. He’s loyal to a fault to his family. Don’t tell me you thought he might choose you over them? What did he tell you?”
I push past him. This is the last person I’m going to have this conversation with.
“I’m sorry you fell for it.”
His mocking words jog my memory.
“Wait. Early today in the dining hall. You knew something.”
He cocks a brow, as if I’ve finally said something he deems impressive. “Your sister will be a brilliant model for the Donor Program.”
My stomach tightens. “You . . . had her sign up?”
“In the fine print, yes. With that blood and your family’s popularity growing, she’ll be very valuable. My father is setting up a meeting to speak with her. He’s hoping he can use this as leverage to get her to join the gala.”
I’m going to vomit.
“The gala, that’s what Dacre’s grandfather was trying to get me to join.”
“I know. That’s why we used plan B. You were plan A until I suspected you were buddying up to Dacre and his family. Though . . . It looks like I might have overestimated how close you two were. Oops.”
“Why is this gala so important?”
“I forget you’re a little sheltered girl from Groveshire. Having your sister as the face of the Donor Program will do amazing things for publicity. The gala is the biggest moneymaking event of the year.”
“Did Dacre know?”
“About the contract floating around? Yeah, probably. Our families tell us lots of things. My condolences to whatever this is.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh? That’s not Dacre that I smell all over you today?” He leans in till I feel the warmth of his breath on my ear. “Some smells you can wash off, and others you can’t.”
My cheeks burn with embarrassment.
“Sorry you had to learn it from me. Dacre isn’t ever going to be relationship material. No one with families like ours ever is.”