Chapter 2 #2
“I'm so sorry. I assumed you would want to share with your brother, Ash. Do you want a single too? I have a spare in the boys’ dorms.”
He smiles, and his whole face changes, damn him.
My breath catches in my chest as I’m blinded by him again and I take note.
This boy, Ash, can use his looks as a weapon, and he very clearly knows it.
There’s no danger quite so devastating, and I haven’t fought tooth and nail to get out of the slums of the Bay just to be lured to my death by a pretty face.
Without needing any further reasons, I decide to avoid this guy at all costs.
Him and both of his savagely stunning siblings.
“Actually, I'd rather share with Mr. Arbour and Mr. Morrison, if that's possible? I know there are some triple rooms, and we’re probably the best candidates in our year to bunk together.”
Yvette’s quick to take his bait. It's hard not to roll my eyes as she preens under his attention, an asinine giggle bubbling out of her like she’s the schoolgirl here Clearly, her survival instincts aren’t as sharp as mine.
God, they must be dulled entirely because I don’t think it takes being a Mounty to figure out that the Beaumont’s are in a whole different league than the rest of us.
With a blush on her cheeks she practically trips over herself to pander to him. “Oh, the triple rooms aren't for boys of your breeding or stature. They're for the lower families.”
‘Lower families’?
Sweet lord, here we go.
I was prepared for the pomp and pageantry of Hannaford.
I told myself it was going to be like a scientific expedition and the best way to deal with it all was to remove myself from the equation.
Being clinical and measured about this shit has always been a strength of mine—acknowledging my own biases so they don’t obscure my viewpoint and all that.
I’m sure it’s far easier not to spiral into a fit of frustration and fury at their spoiled demands for something as lavish as a private suite when you’re not an orphaned Mounty from the slums, but for me?
I’m struggling to empathize with this bullshit, because I’m keenly aware of what it’s like to sleep in a dorm room with dozens of other girls, or moldy carpet, or even rotten sub-flooring, while listening to the neighborhood’s dealers beat a man to death outside over a debt they always knew he’d never be able to pay back.
I assume with just how low my own lineage is, I'll be in the damn basement. I’m sure the Beaumonts in front of me would have a stroke at the idea of such a thing, but joke’s on them; a basement room will suit me just fine.
Ash’s smile widens, showing off his perfectly straight and blindingly white teeth. “I insist. I need to keep a close eye on them both and make sure there isn't a repeat of last year.”
He winks at her to finish her off, and, wouldn’t you know it, Yvette nearly nuts herself.
Rolling my eyes at them both, I glance away to find Avery watching the entire exchange with molten fury in her own gaze.
For a minute, I assume she's pissed at her brother’s antics, but then she reaches out gently and clasps his hand.
Without looking back at her, he squeezes her fingers softly, as though he’s reassuring her, and sure enough, her shoulders roll back as she takes a deep breath like she’s found her resolve.
It’s obvious she doesn’t like that he’s being forced to flirt with this woman, that she’s protective of her brother more than just out of familial obligation.
Ash’s drawl draws my attention back to him despite myself. “Are there singles available in the girls’ dorms?”
Yvette checks some papers in front of her and smiles. “Avery is already in one of the singles. There's two available, and I popped her straight in one. Your twin called me earlier and… expressed her desires. I assumed you would want one as well, but I can get this all fixed for you now.”
Her hesitation seems totally out of place, and when she looks at Avery, there's fear in her eyes. I make a note of that, too, and file the information away.
“Lovely. Thank you, Yvette.”
The twins leave with another look my way, and Yvette stares after them for a moment wistfully, which feels gross to me.
She’s already on my shit list, but she really solidifies her spot when she turns back to me and gives me a once-over.
There’s nothing kind, respectful, or even civil left in the woman.
She looks at me like I’m a problem dropped onto her doorstep.
Eyeing my papers on the desk between us, she snaps at me, “I'm assuming you’re the scholarship student?”
Jeez, if only I looked like Ash, I might have received a better welcome.
With a smile I already know is screaming ‘fuck you’, I offer her my hand to shake. “Eclipse Anderson. I prefer Lips, though.”
With a hard look, she ignores my hand and, instead, finally picks up my paperwork, leafing through it dismissively.
That pisses me off more than anything else she’s pulled because my record is immaculate.
God, any of these brats would kill for my test scores and extra credits, I’m certain of it.
I’ve spent my entire academic career building a monumental amount for this exact moment, and she’s staring at my perfect scores like she sees that shit on the regular.
Again, I’ve done enough research to know I’m ahead of my Hannaford peers as well.
There’s no privilege gap here that I’m about to fall into.
My high school might have been the state’s worst, but I wasn’t relying on my education there to get me this scholarship.
I don’t rely on anyone or anything—I can only trust myself, because no one else gives a fuck about some Mounty-girl trash.
Yvette finally sighs deeply and gives me another pointed look.
“Scholarship students are a handful already, and now we have an emancipated student? Aren’t you the girl who got offered the spot and then deferred for two years?
I'll warn you that this school is held to the highest standard of morals, and you will be expected to behave in an exemplary manner.”
She says that like she wasn't just getting hot and bothered over a teenage boy. I make sure my face is a mask of polite obedience and nod along with her. You don't work your way through foster care as well as I have without being able to lie like a pro.
She taps at her computer for a second and then her printer starts up, spitting paper out for God only knows what. “You’re also being put in a single, but it’s not as though you’ve done something to deserve it. There was some upset about your lodging among the other students.”
I raise my eyebrows at her tone. “Upset?”
She scoffs back at me. “Hannaford Prep is the most renowned and exclusive academy in the country. Only the most prestigious families are invited to send their children here for instruction—their security and reputations are our highest priorities. Many families have protested having a scholarship program to begin with, and they have serious worries about any of their daughters sharing a room with a girl with your… reputation.”
What the hell?
Civility is the best I can manage for my tone, though my words are clipped. “What exactly is my reputation?”
“We’ve had a few run-ins with Mounts Bay High girls before, which has led to strict rules about how our students spend their time outside of Hannaford. There are concerns for the safety of the students and their property.”
I flush scarlet and clench my teeth together so hard I might crack them. I'm about to tell this woman where to shove her opinions when the door to the principal's office opens and Mr. Trevelen steps out. His eyes light up when he spots me, and he lets out a long exhale.
Mr. Trevelen is responsible for awarding scholarships, and he personally interviewed me when I was first awarded the scholarship in my freshman year.
He had sat in the care house I was stuck in and listened to my entire life story as if he actually gave a damn about helping me.
When I was forced to apply for a deferment, he came to speak with me again and after hearing my explanations, he’d gone out on a limb for me to get the school board to agree.
This man has already saved my life, he just doesn’t realize how.
“Miss Anderson, what a relief you've finally made it here safely! I had some concerns after the Academy car was declined by your guardian.”
I smile, a genuine one, as I readjust the bag strap on my shoulder. “I think she just wanted to be nosy and see the school up close.”
The entire school property is surrounded by an extravagant fence, and the ornate gate is electric. I'd been given a keycard to get in, which I now hand back to Mr. Trevelen.
“I won't hold it against her,” he says with a wink, “I have cleared some time from my schedule this morning to walk you to your dorm, and then show you around a little. I wouldn't want you to get lost.”
Yvette gives me another look, but I smile at her sweetly and grab my bags to follow the principal out the door.
At least I have someone on my side.
As predicted, my room is tiny.
It's at the end of the hall in the girls’ dorm.
After walking past all the other large and luxurious suites to get to it, it’s clear the moment Mr. Trevelen ushers me in that it must be a converted closet of some kind.
The girls lounging around the common areas all giggle and sneer openly as I walk by, but it's the first time in my life I've had a room to myself.
These spoiled brats have no clue what I've survived and having a room that barely fits my bed in it is not a hardship.
The bed is a double, which is another first, and there's a small closet that would still fit ten times the clothes I own.
I can feel a silly smile tugging at my lips, and I fight the urge to squeal.
I have my own room, with a double bed and free meals, at the best school in the country.