Chapter Twelve
Rosalie
I spend the next few days in the studio with Charlie and her dad, working on samples and pouring every ounce of effort I can into perfecting my portfolio. Juilliard submissions are approaching fast, and I barely make it to the deadline.
Still, the practice Mr. Marcus has been drilling into me is really helping with my stage fright. Every exercise is raw and exposing—slowly tearing away at my fear.
The most challenging was when Mr. Marcus had a few colleagues who flew in from California, and he made me perform in front of them.
My whole body was wracked with nerves, but I kept my composure as I delivered.
I received stellar feedback and praise from industry representatives, and I couldn’t keep the smile off my face if I tried.
Charlie was there every step of the way, cheering me on while she compiled her music management portfolio. She’s proud to be following in her dad’s footsteps, and I think he is, too, with how he radiates pride anytime we all work together.
I’ve never been seen or encouraged the way Charlie’s family does. They saw past my broken exterior and took a chance on a girl they didn’t even know. Even Mrs. Lennon is lending her support, getting me to sing at random times of the day while she works in her office or while we clean up dinner.
I have so much gratitude for this family that I want to pay it back in some way. Cleaning and cooking dinner can only go so far. They’ve done so much for me, and it pains me that I can’t do more than what I know.
“Rose,” Mrs. Lennon places her hands on her hips as she gives me a stern stare. I’m stirring a pot of garlic pasta, the smells wafting through the open kitchen. “I told you I was cooking today.”
“I know Mrs. Lennon, but I wanted to help.” I shrug.
She hums before placing a quick kiss on the top of my head. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do. I appreciate the help, but you don’t owe us anything, kid.”
I nod, but don’t stop preparing dinner as Charlie grabs the rolls out of the freezer.
She’s been helping me anytime I cook and steadily supplying conversation as we work together.
It makes the time pass, and we’ve become closer since I started staying here three weeks ago.
She’s like the sister I always wanted, and easing into this life has been smooth.
I feel like I really belong here, and that makes my chest pang with what I’ve been missing out on.
Mr. Marcus flies into the kitchen, causing all of us to stop as he holds up two large envelopes. He smiles wickedly, flopping them around. “This is it, girls! Letters are in!”
“Oh, shit,” Mrs. Lennon curses before shoving the placement mats aside on the table. “Come on!”
She pulls two chairs out for us, smacking the seat of them. Charlie bounds right over, smiling so hard her cheeks must be hurting as she motions for me to join her.
I set my spoon down, taking a deep breath. I’ve been preparing for rejection. If I don’t get in, there are other colleges out there. It’ll take a lot of effort and money, but I can do this. Whatever is inside that envelope won’t break me.
It can’t.
I settle down beside my friend, nerves clogging my throat as Mr. Marcus slides my mail in front of me. Paper has never looked so intimidating…
Charlie has no trepidation as she tears into hers. With every sharp rip, my shoulders tense until she begins to read the neatly printed words. Her mouth drops open, and her eyes light up.
“I got in! Partial ride!” She pumps her fist, and Mr. Marcus claps.
“Partial is better than nothing, baby!” He celebrates.
“That’s wonderful! I knew you could do it!” Mrs. Lennon smiles.
All eyes trail to me, and I feel like a deer caught in headlights.
“Come on,” Charlie whispers.
I swallow. “Together?”
“Ride or die,” she promises as she lifts my envelope.
I tear into the package with bated breath, a flurry of emotions gripping me. My fingers tremble as I pull the packet out. It’s so quiet in the dining room that I could hear a pin drop.
“What does it say?” Mrs. Lennon urges.
My eyes keep re-reading the same line as if my brain can’t process what I’m seeing. It can’t be real…
“She got a full ride!” Charlie shouts, jolting me out of my shock.
The kitchen erupts in claps and screams. My best friend squishes me to her in a tight hug as I’m tossed around like a ragdoll between all three of them.
“Fuck yeah!” Mr. Marcus celebrates.
“I knew you could do it!” Mrs. Lennon’s eyes well with happy tears.
“I got in…” I trail.
“You did!” Charlie shakes my shoulders. “You did it!”
My lips press together before my face screws up. Fat, heavy tears dot my lashes as my best friend holds me tightly, and the emotions clogged up inside of me tumble out.
“I did it…” I sob.
“You did it!” Charlie laughs, her happiness infectious.
This is the best day of my life.
The last week of school can’t put a damper on my mood. Things are finally starting to look up for me, and I refuse to let anyone ruin this. The whispers and comments take a backseat as I shuffle through my notebooks for my next class.
Charlie and I have already started packing for Juilliard. Bringing Mr. Marcus to the trailer park to collect my clothes was embarrassing. Luckily, Dad wasn’t home, and I made quick work of shoving my belongings into a trash bag and tossing it into the idling truck.
Now, there’s a discussion of whether Charlie and I want to start the summer semester or wait until the fall. We’re on the fence about how early we want to begin this journey, but I’m itching to get away from Mystic.
As I step near the stairs that lead to my last hour class, I’m entirely distracted with preparations and the light buzz in my head. My fantasies are running crazy with the possibilities, and I don’t notice the three lingering shadows that cast over me until it’s too late.
“Dirt.”
I tense, my joints locking at the sound of Kairo’s voice. I slowly peer over my shoulder at the three boys standing behind me.
“H-hi…” I manage.
“H-hi,” Kairo mocks. “Where the fuck have you been? Are you avoiding us?”
Roman posts up near the stairs’ railing, crossing his arms over his chest. “Avoidance is better than confrontation, huh? You really are like a fucking rat.”
Maddox snorts, his eyes narrowing on me as he chooses to stay silent.
I pull my books closer to me as if they can serve as a shield. I’ve been so lost in my own little world that I completely forgot about these three. “I’ve been busy…”
“Busy?” Roman’s brows jump. “Trying to figure out what new squalor you’re going to inhabit once your old man kicks you out after graduation?”
Kairo chuckles tauntingly, and I curl into myself. “Did you see the cut on her neck? Pretty sure he’s already kicked her out…”
They slowly close in, three demons pushing me closer to the edge of the stairs. I take a step back, only to be quickly reminded of just how close I am to tumbling.
“Did your old man do that?” Roman asks, flicking a finger over the wound and making my teeth grit at the dull pain. “It looks nice. Fitting.”
I bite my tongue as bitterness erupts in my gut. Mr. Marcus’s words circle my head.
You can either let this life grab you by the fucking throat, or you can make it your bitch.
Resentment and anger fuel me, adding to the steadily fanning flames that began with a small ember and have only been nurtured with every passing day. I’m tired of being pushed to the brink, and I refuse to continue being the small, scared girl of my past.
I refuse to be prey.
For the first time in my whole life, I do something I’ve never done before.
I stand up for myself.
“And you would look more fitting at the bottom of a well.” I sneer with venom.
Roman’s face falls into ire as Kairo gives a startled laugh. Maddox scowls at me, his lips twitching.
“She’s getting brave,” Kairo croons as he leans closer.
I don’t back down as I stare him dead in the eyes. I have nothing else to say to these boys, and remaining in their presence is moot.
“I have class—” I try to turn away from them, but Roman snatches my wrist in a punishing grip. It makes me bite down on the inside of my cheek as I whirl on him. He’s so close that I can feel his breath fan over my lips.
“And I think you would look better at the bottom of the stairs.” He whispers harshly before shoving me back.
There’s a beat where I’m airborne, my body gliding as my last view is of the three boys who have tormented me for years as they grow distant.
Maddox’s eyes are wide, his concern displaced and unnatural.
Kairo’s mouth hangs open, and his stupefied expression would almost be laughable if I weren’t falling.
I see regret flicker across Roman’s eyes before it’s buried under a cold, hard stare.
There is no remorse for me as my back collides with the first set of steps.
The air is knocked from my lungs, and I feel like I can’t suck in a breath as pain lances through my back.
My momentum causes me to tumble further, my legs catapulting over my head as I roll.
The concrete slams into every inch of me, scraping my sides and hips as I near the bottom.
When I roll onto solid ground, I groan. I lift my arms, tucking them close to my chest as I finally take a ragged breath. Everything hurts, and I can only curl onto my side as I wait for it to subside.
My vision blurs as I hear slow, cautious steps nearing me. With every tap of the shoes, the darkness edges further into my field of sight until I can make out Roman’s sneakers in front of my face.
“Is she alive?” Kairo asks.
“She’s fine,” Roman barks.
Maddox crouches down, and I wince as his face nears mine. “Yup. Still breathing.”
“A shame,” Roman clucks his tongue.
They trudge along, leaving me at the base of the stairs with my arms cradled close to me. I don’t know how long I stay lying on my side, but all I know is that it’ll be the last time.
The last time I let them or anyone hurt me ever again. I’m done being the punching bag.
I’m done.
I stagger up, dragging my body after me as I stumble down the hallway. People pass me with raised brows, and Jordan whispers something to the cheerleading team before they erupt in giggles. It’s clear her jab is aimed at me, but I don’t care.
Not anymore.
I hobble into the front office, cradling my sore elbow as fresh bruises scatter my limbs. Mrs. Taylor sees me first, her mouth falling open in shock at my state. She rises from behind her desk, her white hair cascading over her shoulders as she calls for Mrs. Hurst.
When the principal walks out of her office, she scowls. “Rosalie, what happened?”
“What hasn’t happened?” I laugh bitterly, sounding on the brink of delusion.
“Who did this?” The principal asks.
“No one this school doesn’t already know about.” I bite. “I’m here for my diploma.”
Mrs. Taylor blinks. “Your diploma? Graduation is days away…”
“I have a full ride to Juilliard, and I’m looking to start as soon as possible,” I say, lifting my chin.
Mrs. Hurst gives me a small nod. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you. So, can I get my diploma or not?”
The principal tilts her chin down, staring over the rim of her glasses. “Rosalie, you know I can’t do that—”
“And why not?” My voice rises, the loudest I’ve ever dared to make it. “I get bullied for years, and most adults turn a blind eye to it, but the moment I finally decide to piss off like everyone wants, I can’t? I can’t win with you people.”
“Language,” Mrs. Hurts scolds. “This would go against the curriculum, and you’re valedictorian. Your peers are expecting a speech from you.”
I snort. “And we know how well the last one went.”
The principal’s face falls an inch, giving way to the consideration of my proposal. “How is your attendance?”
Mrs. Taylor balks as she glances between us. “You can’t be serious, Katherine!”
“Stellar besides the day I missed three weeks ago,” I shrug.
Mrs. Hurst nods. “Follow me.”
She leads me into her office, then opens a filing cabinet and pulls out my diploma. It’s bound in leather with the school’s crest on it, and I take it with gentle hands.
“I’m only doing this because this school owes you far more than what it gave.
I’m sorry, Rosalie.” She sounds genuine, and it makes the bridge of my nose sting.
When was the last time an adult apologized for how I was treated?
When was the last time someone saw a person rather than a broken, poor girl?
“It’s okay,” I sniffle, tucking my certificate under my arm.
The principal gives me a soft smile. “Make us proud.”