if this is what happens.
The crazy part is, my father always knew the Jacobs were going to be the Wilders’ downfall.
When we walk into school this morning, everything’s changed. I’m flanked on either side by Wyatt and Lucas. Stone leading us like the king he thinks he is. People take notice, too, just like they’ve been taking notice of the new guys at school, but this time, they’re taking notice of me too. Whispers rise. People talk with their friends behind palms, hiding their lips from us.
It’s not the reception into school that I need. I’m already worried about monsters hiding behind corners, and now this is making me second-guess everyone. I liked it when everyone was so apparent in their hatred of me. At least it wasn’t being hidden behind closed doors. It was out there for everyone to see. It certainly made it easier to see what you were up against.
Then again, I’m probably just being paranoid. Paranoia runs in my family, but also, that kind of happens when you’re told you’re involved in a plot that consists of a maniac who’s vowed to start killing people if he doesn’t get his way.
We walk past the school office, and the doors open right into Wyatt. We all stop as the secretary peeks her head out. “Oh dear. I’m so sorry, Mr. Longhorn. I was looking for Dakota, and I could’ve sworn...” She trails off, flushing at the mere sight of Wyatt. Not that I can blame her. Despite the shadows under his eyes, he’s looking like quite the specimen this morning. It might be because I saw him pack a knife in a concealed holder in his jeans, but he’s giving off an aura of dangerous cowboy that I’m not even going to pretend doesn’t make him ten times hotter than normal.
“I’m right here,” I say.
“Oh, yes,” the secretary says, clearing her throat. “I knew I saw you.” She smiles at me, and it’s pleasant. “Another letter came for you.” Her face pinches like she wants to ask me if I’m sure they have nothing to do with my dad’s disappearance like she did the first time, but she wisely keeps the question to herself.
She holds the letter out, and Stone plucks it from her fingers. “Thank you.”
“That’s for, Miss—” she starts to say.
“Oh, I know,” Stone states, using that level tone of his. “It’s okay. Dakota and I are good friends. Aren’t we Dakota?”
I glower at him. “The best of friends.”
“Oh,” the secretary says, her eyes widening along with her smile. She gives me an enthusiastic grin which makes me wonder how much she watches. She’s probably seen my outcast status like many people here have. She seems like the type that would root for the underdog.
“Thank you for giving it to me,” I say, tearing the letter from Stone’s grip.
“Do you know who sent it?” Stone asks the secretary, ignoring me.
The secretary shrugs. “It came through the mail room, so I’m assuming the regular mail.”
“Thank you,” he says, his good boy smile plastered all over his face. As a unit, we start to walk away. He lowers his voice as we all move toward mine and Stone’s first class. “Is this how the previous letter was sent to you?”
I nod, confirming his theory.
“Anyone else think it’s weird she’s getting it at the school and not at her dorm? You do have mailboxes at the dorm, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I say, rolling my eyes. The dorms aren’t much to look at or live in, but to act as if we don’t get the basic necessities is just so pompous on his part. Not that I should be surprised.
We stop as a group outside History, and Wyatt turns to address us. “Listen, either those bastards knew we were going to ask Dakota for help because they were spying on us, or they just guessed it.”
“Wait. You asked me for help?” I almost laugh. “That’s not how it all went down.”
Stone gives me his cold gaze. His blue-gray eyes are like steel, impenetrable and guarded. “I don’t need your help.”
“I mean, it sounds like you do. You kind of just said it.”
“Enough you two,” Wyatt scolds. “We’ll talk about this later. Just get into class and don’t kill each other.” He gives us both a look and then he and Lucas take off to get to their classes.
Stone walks in first, looking every bit the part of college co-ed, if college co-eds wore nice, expensive clothes. He looks like he