Evermore Academy (Evermore Academy #3) - Audrey Grey Page 0,30

front of the auditorium. I slide into the chair beside her and sling my new backpack onto the chair back. The thing magically unzips, allowing quick access to my iPad and stylus pen for taking notes.

“Is everyone staring at me?” I whisper, leaning close enough to smell Mack’s vanilla and sugar body spray.

Mack pauses from situating her supplies over her desk to look around. “Pretty much.”

I brush back a strand of my pale hair and sigh. Of course they are. Overnight I went from the poor student from the Tainted Zone to long lost Fae princess in a mortal body.

I still haven’t quite come to terms with it so how can I expect anyone else to?

Something light thumps the back of my head. Ruby gives chase, retrieving the item, which turns out to be a wadded-up paper.

I smooth the wrinkled note over my desk.

Wannabe Fae Trash.

“That would be Reina,” I mutter without bothering to face my nemesis. “Not very original but at least she managed to spell everything right.”

Mack’s cornflower blue eyes glitter with wrath. My bestie whips around, fists balled, prepared to fight Inara’s shadow and her pack of followers.

I don’t deserve you, Mackenzie Fairchild.

I grab her wrist and tug her forward before the teacher can notice. “Don’t sweat it.”

Rage seethes from her entire being, her jaw gritted and eyes glittering with menace. “I won’t let those assholes bully you, Summer. Not after everything you’ve been through.”

My heart swells, but I’m more worried about Mack getting in trouble than I am Reina’s juvenile taunts. “That’s exactly why you will. Because after everything I’ve survived, there is nothing those assholes can say or do that bothers me.”

I might have said that louder than needed, but the whispers and cruel taunts fade. The rest of my classes are much of the same. Curious stares, a few spitballs and choice words muttered under breaths.

Eventually the students grow bored of the pick-on-Summer-game and leave me alone.

It almost feels too easy.

By the time lunch rolls around, I actually dare to hope this day is turning around. Richard and Jace have a table in the lunchroom reserved, and it’s tucked into a corner, away from prying eyes.

Mack’s phone rings as we join the buffet line. She taps the Facetime button with a manicured nail and both of her dads appear on the rectangular screen. “Hey, sweetie!” Nick calls.

Sebastian elbows him. “Darling, you’re embarrassing her.”

“How is your first day going, sweetheart?” Nick coos, ignoring his husband.

Their cloying smiles can’t hide the uneasiness in their voices. Mack nearly failed school last year, and this year promises to be even harder.

“Fine,” Mack assures, her lie rolling off her tongue.

Fine is not how I would describe nearly inhaling poisonous mushroom spores and then rushing into the forest to save her best friend from the Darkling.

Fairly sure that’s the opposite of fine.

Nick spots me and grins, his eyes lighting up. “Summer! You look glorious and that outfit . . .” He gives a chef’s kiss. “How is your first day, darling?”

“Darling?” Sebastian jerks an eyebrow up at his husband. “That’s Faerie royalty you’re addressing, babe.”

“Darling is fine,” I quickly say, waving off the more formal title. “And I’m wonderful.”

Another lie.

Her dads spend the next thirty seconds competing with each other for the best send-off, blowing kisses and performing pageant-worthy waves.

As soon as they’re gone, Mack shoves the phone deep into her pocket. “Be thankful your mother is the hands-off type.”

“Hands off?” I twirl so that the wide legs of my cream pants flare. “Did your dads dress you for school like you’re five?”

“They would have if they could agree on anything.” She runs an approving gaze over my outfit, her stare settling on the bracelet circling my wrist. “Your mom can dress me and buy me jewelry anytime she wants.”

“That’s how it starts. Next thing you know you’re a puppet on a string, bound to her every desire.”

“Bit dramatic, don’t you think?” She picks up two tan lunch trays. “Any word from Aunt Zinnia?”

A frown tugs my lips as I take the tray from her. “Not since two weeks ago, and even then we only talked for a few minutes.” I use tongs to grab two sourdough rolls for Ruby. “They’re busy this time of year, especially since they’ve started canning for practically the entire county.”

Pressure clamps down on my bicep. On instinct, I spin, tray raised—only to see a fourth year shadow Guardian staring back at me.

“Do that,” he barks, “and I’ll have every right to throttle you in