Chapter 4
The Monday morning before classes officially start somehow turns into The Amber Show. Never mind that I’m starting freshman year of college—my first step into the real world. Because, of course, Amber has to make everything about her.
My sister prances around our tiny apartment like she’s heading to a Vogue photo shoot, barking orders and demanding Mom hurry up with breakfast, so she won’t be late for her first day of senior year.
Mom rushes through the kitchen, flustered as she dutifully preps Amber’s favorite green kale and cucumber smoothie and then pours the green sludge into two BPA-free plastic tumblers.
She hands the drinks to us with a big smile, and I try not to gag as I glance down at my liquid breakfast.
I live for sugar.
Pop-Tarts with frosting. Glazed donuts. Gooey sticky buns. Muffins oozing with chocolate chips.
My favorite breakfast is birthday cake pancakes, packed with rainbow sprinkles, drenched in syrup, and piled high with whipped cream.
Basically, dessert disguised as breakfast. But I suppose that’s a lot to ask for at 7 a.m., especially when Mom doesn’t have to go to the Artists Co-op where she works until later this afternoon.
Her wealthy, stay-at-home-mom clientele would never dream of being up this early on a Monday morning.
That’s what nannies and housekeepers are for, obviously.
Still, I smile and thank her for the gross smoothie anyway, trying not to take it personally, even though it kind of is.
She knows I hate health food.
Sometimes it feels like my mother forgets she has two daughters, not just Amber, but I suppose I can afford to be magnanimous today.
Hayes is picking me up and treating me to the Coffee Hut before class.
It’s my favorite breakfast spot near campus, and they have the best goddamn cinnamon rolls in town.
Right on cue, Hayes pulls up outside the apartment and gives a quick honk. He stayed at his parents’ place last night, and even though I’m technically on his way to campus, it’s still sweet that he offered to drive me this morning. He knows new things make me nervous. New people, especially.
“See you later!” I say, tightening my backpack straps as I head for the door.
“Have a nice day, dear.” Mom waves absentmindedly, rinsing out Amber’s tumbler in the sink.
Amber trails after me, way too eager.
“Is that Hayes?” she asks.
“Mmm,” I mutter, not slowing down.
“I think I’ll go say hi before Brooke gets here. Do I look okay?” She fluffs her blonde curls and smooths the hem of her ballerina-pink chiffon skirt.
“You look gorgeous, sweetie,” Mom says.
Amber eyes my outfit and lifts a judgy brow. “Wait—Ally, you’re not seriously wearing that, are you? You know Halloween isn’t until October, right?”
I happen to love what I’m wearing: a black skater dress, ripped fishnets, and motorcycle boots.
I even spent extra time on my makeup, layering thick mascara with sharp-winged eyeliner.
My long black hair is tied into twin pigtails, my signature thin black choker cool against my throat.
It’s giving Nancy Downs, my favorite witch from The Craft movie.
“Oh yeah?” I pause at the door and glance back. “Well, you look like Barbie threw up on you.”
Her cheeks flush. Or maybe it’s just her too-bright, caked-on shimmery blush.
“I do not! Take that back!”
“Girls, please. It’s too early for this.”
A stress line creases the center of Mom’s otherwise smooth forehead, and I feel a flicker of guilt. She’s way too young for wrinkles.
Mom had us in her early twenties. She’s petite like Amber, and just as blonde and beautiful. Men are constantly stopping her on the street to ask her out, but she always shuts them down with the same polite, uninterested smile. As far as I know, she hasn’t dated anyone since my father left.
“Sorry, Mom,” I say.
I glance over at Amber, considering a truce. Sure, she’s an asshole, but maybe it wouldn’t kill me to be a little more civil, at least for my mother’s sake. Perhaps I could—
“Yeah, sorry, Mom.” Amber’s voice drips honey. “Have a great first day of school, Ally.” She smirks. “Oh, and good luck being a nobody all over again.”
All thoughts of civility go right out of my head. It takes all my restraint not to hurl my backpack straight at her perfectly curled head.
“Go to hell, Ambrosia!”
“Alysander!” Mom yells, horrified, but I don’t stick around for a lecture. I slam the front door behind me, blood boiling as I storm toward Hayes’s SUV.
“I swear to God, I’m going to commit a felony,” I say, climbing into the passenger seat and sinking into the buttery leather. My backpack hits the floor with a heavy thud.
Amusement sparkles in his blue eyes as he looks over and laughs. “Morning to you too, Alligator.”
“I’m serious,” I say as he whips out of the driveway, my voice climbing with irritation. “I hope you’re not afraid of prison, because that’s where you’ll be visiting me. I’m this-close to murdering Amber with my bare hands.”
“That right? What’d she do this time?”
I lean over and twist the dial on the stereo until it lands on “Supermassive Black Hole.” Muse floods the car. God, I love Matt Bellamy—his vocal range is unreal.
“Actually, scratch that.” I huff. “Why should I do time for her? I’ll hire a hitman. How much you think those run?” I shoot Hayes a look, batting my lashes. “Can you spot me a few thousand, bestie?”
He turns to me, one hand on the wheel, flashing that sexy, slow-burn grin—the one that always looks like it’s hiding secrets… and probably a few sins. “Al, you know I’d do anything for you,” he says, “but offing your sister would seriously mess with my love life.”
“Ugh. Gross.” I groan, flopping my head against the seat. “Please tell me you two aren’t happening again.”
“Still undecided.” He shrugs. “But don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Oh goodie.”
Well, shit.
I was really hoping this little break of theirs might actually stick this time, but it sounds like another reconciliation may already be on the horizon.
“Whatever,” I say, crossing my arms. “I don’t need your help anyway. I’ll just sic the dog on her.” I pause, then add, “Actually, I forgot to tell you. He kind of lost it the other night.”
Hayes stiffens—barely, but I catch it.
“Lost it how?”
“It was so weird. He went full Cujo on something in the woods behind your house during our walk Saturday.” The memory prickles under my skin.
I still don’t totally understand what happened.
“He was fine one minute, then he just… snapped. Like, hackles up, growling-at-the-dark kind of thing. I thought he was about to attack me, but it was something in the trees, I guess. Something I couldn’t see. ”
Hayes lifts a brow, smirking. “What—like one of your mom’s little made-up Underworld monsters?”
“Ha ha. Very funny,” I say. “I’m serious. The whole thing was creepy as hell, whatever it was.”
“Probably a possum or something,” he says, already turning away. “Woods are full of ’em.”
I nod, but the weird feeling lingers. Because whatever was out there with us… I don’t think it was just a possum.
After a quick stop at the Coffee Hut for our pastry and caffeine fix, we arrive at school.
Even though I’ve driven by LHU my entire life, it’s different seeing it today—as an actual student. The campus is truly stunning, even I have to admit that.
From the cathedral-like buildings with their towering arches and intricate stone carvings, to the pristine lawns and palm fronds swaying lazily in the breeze, it all feels like something out of a movie set.
Sunlight glints off the fountain in the main quad, and even the air smells expensive, like fresh-cut grass and money.
Sure, it’s not NYU, but I guess it’s not the worst place to be stuck for a year.
We turn into the student parking lot, and Hayes glides into one of the reserved spots up front. Because apparently, being quarterback comes with valet-level parking privileges.
Please don’t let this year suck.
I whisper the silent prayer as I step out of the car, slinging my backpack over one shoulder and trying to shake off the nerves coiling in my stomach.
Hayes comes around to my side and casually hooks his elbow through mine, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
His fingers settle into the crook of my arm, warm and steady. Anchoring me, like always.
“You okay?”
I take a slow breath, eyes fixed on the looming campus ahead. My throat tightens as a wave of overwhelm sweeps through me.
New faces. New classes. New professors. New everything.
“Not really.”
“Just stick with me, kid. I promise, we’ll make this our best year yet.” He pulls me in, and his familiar scent—a delicious mix of cedar, dark amber, and fire-lit spice—envelops me, softening the sharp edge of my nerves.
“It’s just… I’m still bummed about the play,” I admit, my voice shakier than I’d like. “It felt like a fresh start, you know? Like maybe if I got the part, people might actually like me for once.” I try to smile. “That’s pathetic, huh?”
“People do like you, Al,” he says softly.
“People like you. They merely tolerate me because I’m your friend.”
“That’s not true.”
I snort. “Oh, come on. It is, and you know it.”
“You’re just… different, is all. That scares some people.”
He lets go of my arm and steps back, giving me a look—half thoughtful, half amused—as his gaze slowly travels down my all-black, unapologetically goth outfit.
I know I look good.
I’m tall and toned, with just enough softness in the right places.
I’ve got big boobs and a great ass, thanks to all those workout classes.
But my outfit isn’t the right style. Not like all the other fangirls giggling and waving at Hayes as they pass by, decked out in their pastel-ruffled skirts and designer shoes and bags.