“I’m fine,” I said, rubbing my hands down my skirt again. Repetitive actions… the feel of the soft filaments under my fingers grounded me. Held me in the moment.
“If anyone says anything—”
“Celeste, I said I’m fine.” I snapped.
She let out a soft sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m only trying to help. I know this can’t be easy.”
Glancing over at her, I forced my lips into a smile. “No, I’m sorry. You’re right, I am a little nervous. But I’ll be okay.” I’d survived worse. Far worse.
But Darling Academy came into view, like a hidden castle bursting out of the swathe of chestnut oaks.
I’d been here once before. To watch the Darling Hill Hawks football team play the Darling Academy Devils. But the school bus had driven in through the separate entrance for the football stadium, so I hadn’t really gotten a good look at the school buildings.
“It’s beautiful, right?” Celeste said, and I nodded, still gawking at the scene before me.
Darling Academy was a collection of pristinely restored old buildings surrounded by oak trees. It reminded me of Harvard or Princeton.
“It’s not so bad, I promise. Strip away the Prada handbags, sports cars, and trust funds, and you’re left with a high school full of kids just trying to figure out who they are and what they want to do with their lives.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but I didn’t voice my disagreement. This was an entirely different world to the one I’d grown up in.
Celeste followed the stream of expensive cars into the parking lot and found an empty spot. “Okay.” She cut the engine and looked over at me. “Ready?”
No. “Yes.”
“You’ve got a meeting with Principal Diego first, right?” I nodded and she went on, “So I’ll walk you to the administrative building and then Mrs. Farrell will show you to your first class.”
“Got it.” I clenched a fist, willing my hand to stop trembling.
It was just school.
Senior year.
Nine months before I could walk out of here and never look back.
I could do it.
I could.
Besides, what was the worst that could happen?
I had nothing left to lose.
“Ah, Miss Rowe, come in.”
The word clanged through me like the slam of a door or the shatter of glass.
Rowe.
Rowe.
Rowe.
He’d called me Miss Rowe.
“It’s Maguire. Miss Maguire.”
Something akin to surprise flashed over his expression, but he quickly forced his mouth into a smile. “Yes, of course. My apologies, Miss Maguire. Please, take a seat.”
Principal Diego was exactly as Celeste had described him. An older man with bushy gray eyebrows, a thick neck, and a leering gaze that seemed to run over my body like a hundred tiny spiders crawling over my skin.
A shudder rolled through me as I pressed my hands over my knees in an attempt to better cover myself.
“How are you feeling? Any first day jitters?”
“I’m fine.”
“Good, that’s very good.” He steepled his fingers and sat a little taller. All the better to see me with, no doubt.
“I understand from your father that you are much better now and ready to embark on your senior year with what I hope will be a smile on your face and a spring in your step.”
Was this guy for real?
I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes, instead counting the circles on the geometrical print hanging on the wall behind him. So many circles looped together, in and around each other.
One… two… three… four—
“Miss Maguire?” He cleared his throat, those bushy brows drawn tightly.
“Sorry, yes. Absolutely. Smile and spring.”
His voice was a nasally drawl as if he had something stuck in the back of his throat. “Yes, well, I’m sure you’re going to fit right in here at DA. We’re one of the best schools in the state and our extracurricular program is quite impressive. Do you play any sports, Miss Maguire? Or perhaps you’re more of a creative? Art? Drama? Maybe even the debate team? If you’re anything like your father, I’m sure you’d be an—”
“I’m not. I mean, I’m sure I’ll find something.”
“I have no doubts.” He smiled but it did little to ease the tangled knot in my stomach.
“If you have any problems settling in, you can come directly to me or visit our guidance teacher Miss Hanley. She’s down the hall.”
“Got it, thanks.” I stood, carefully backing up in a way that didn’t give him a front row seat view to my ass.
Maybe I would have to consider running for class president so I could overhaul this god-awful uniform. Now there was a thought.
A slight smile curled at my lips.
My main therapist at Albany Hills would be so proud. She’d constantly said I needed to ‘Look for the positives and find purpose in my life.’
“Thanks, Principal Diego,” I said, grabbing the door handle and pulling.
“One last thing, Harleigh. Can I call you Harleigh?” His eyes narrowed. “We pride ourselves here at DA on our impeccable reputation. I expect, given your recent change of… living situation, you’ll fit right in.”
My cheeks burned, indignation heating my blood. “What is that supposed to mean?” My voice shook as I tightened my grip on the doorknob.
“Consider it a friendly reminder. Now get to class, Miss Maguire. You wouldn’t want to be late on your first day.” He gave me an easy breezy smile as if he hadn’t just threatened me.
Because I wasn’t from here.
I didn’t belong.
And if Principal Diego knew, so would everyone else here.
Storming out of his office, I slammed the door a little too hard, instantly regretting it when the secretary glowered at me.
“Sorry,” I said.
“First day jitters, sweetie?”
Dear God. I was going to need something to get through the day at this rate. Something to take off the edge at least.
But it wasn’t like I could ask Celeste who could hook me up.
“Can you point me in the direction of…” I dug out my schedule. “AP English?”
“Of course, dear.” She smiled. A genuine warm smile that reminded me a lot of Celeste.
“Would you like directions, or I can show you?”
I was almost eighteen years old. I was pretty certain I could find my way to class. But she was the first person outside of Celeste to put me at ease. And it cut me deep.
With a weak smile, as my façade cracked a little more, I said, “I’d really appreciate it if you could show me.”
Nix
Thud.
My body hit the ground hard, the air sucking clean from my lungs. I rolled onto my back and stared up at the crisp morning sky. That fucking hurt.
“Wilder, what the hell was that?” Coach Farringdon boomed across the field.
“You went down like a fucking pussy.” Darius Hench, our best defensive lineman snorted.
“Go fuck yourself, asshole,” I spat, even though he had a point.
I was off my game.
Hench knew it. Coach knew it. We all fucking knew it.