I should stop. That much I know. I’m throwing away a golden opportunity. My stupid ego will make sure I end up without a scholarship and a roof, but I’m not ready to cave in yet. I have nothing against Melody Followhill. Her daughter, on the other hand, is a different story.
“We’ll make it work.” She offers me her hand again. I don’t take it. Again.
She nudges her hand an inch closer to my face.
“Whatever your reservations are, we can work them out. I’d like to help you find your sister.”
My sister is dead, I’m tempted to say, but hell if I need another dose of pity. It’s only an assumption but an educated one. No way Via is alive and hasn’t sent me a letter, or a text, or picked up the goddamn phone in four years.
“Good luck with that.”
“I don’t need luck. I have money.”
I inspect her to see if she is for real. She doesn’t make any apologies for being rich. I see where her daughter got the superiority complex. It stinks on Mrs. Followhill, but it positively reeks on her baby girl.
“Get your duffel bag,” she commands.
When I stay put, she grabs it herself and heads to her Rover. After tossing it in her back seat, she throws the passenger door open.
“Fine. Stay here. You’re not getting your things back. You officially own nothing.”
I finally get up and get in, not looking back at Rhett’s house. My hand hovers over the leather seats, not touching.
Fuck.
“You’ll kick me out in an hour,” I comment dryly.
“Try me, Scully.”
I dig my fingernails into the leather seats, fascinated with how beautiful the imperfect indents of my nails look on them. When she starts the engine, I light a cigarette and roll the window down.
One last chance to change your mind, lady.
“Those cigarettes are going to kill you.” She pushes her sunglasses up her nose and raises her chin. She’s bold, this one.
“Good. The fuck are they waiting for?”
I don’t know what I’m expecting. A lecture, a scowl. A punishment? Maybe some yelling. It’s been a while since I’ve been parented.
But what I see in my periphery amuses me. A smile tugs at her lips.
“You have sass. You and my daughter, Daria, will get along just fine.”
She has no idea how wrong she is, but she sure is about to find out.
You poured misery into me
Let it simmer for a while
And now it is time for you to taste
What you’ve created
I slide my journal on the edge of Principal Prichard’s desk and step back. He doesn’t raise his head from the documents he is reading, a frown stamped on his face. I rub my sweaty palms along my skirt. He licks his forefinger and flips a page in the brochure he’s reading. It’s a grown-up quirk that reminds me he is twenty years my senior.
That what we’re doing is wrong.
I wrote my first ever entry in my little black book the day we did what we did to Via. The day I realized I wasn’t just a mischievous kid, I was a mean girl. Since then, the notebook has become jammed-packed with entries.
I take it with me everywhere like a dark cloud over my sunshine hair, and at night, I sleep with it under my pillow. It harbors my not-so-Instagram-worthy moments. Things only Principal Prichard and I know. How I cut Esme’s Disney princess hair in her sleep when we were fifteen at a sleepover. How I had my mom adopt the stray cat Luna wanted just to make her jealous.
How I ruined Via’s life.
“Back so soon?” His tone is ruthlessly bored. It anchors me to the ground, reminding me of how little and unworthy I am.
Instead of answering, I turn around and lock his door. Behind my back, I hear the soft thud of his pen hitting the document and know he is setting his reading glasses down where the pages meet because I’ve seen this movie a thousand times before.
A chill runs down my spine.
Principal Prichard is attractive in the way powerful men usually are. In a symmetrical, clinical way. His hair is velvet black—almost bluish—and his nose is as sharp as a knife. A constant scowl knots his forehead like Professor Snape, and although he is not particularly tall or muscular, he is slender and well-dressed enough to pull off the James Bond look.
Prichard and I, we go back. Our first encounter occurred a few days after Via disappeared when I was still in middle school.