Then I turn back to the bookstore.
I want to go in there. So bad.
I want to look at all those blue and gold sweatshirts, and mugs, and hats, and… well, whatever else they sell in college bookstores.
Because even though I should hate this place, I don’t. And I want something—anything—that says ‘High Court College’ on it.
The bursar can wait. And I’m not broke yet.
A rush of cold air greets me when I pull open the door and walk in. There is a line of chaos on one side where kids are checking out with stacks of textbooks. High Court has a digital textbook option for all classes, and that’s the route I’m going. So I don’t need books.
But this hoodie…
I giggle to myself and look around self-consciously.
It’s stupid to want it. But it’s so pretty. The bright royal blue and mustard yellow just looks… regal. And I guess that’s what they were going for. It is called High Court College, after all.
My eyes wander over to the far side of the bookstore where a mannequin is wearing a High Court Prep uniform and I have a pang of longing.
I will never get to wear that outfit. It’s too late now.
But the hoodie is just as good. I grab a yellow one with the fighting lions crest in black outlined on the front, then decide to get a zipper one too.
Oh. Then I see the socks with the gold tassels.
Should I?
Shouldn’t I?
Hell, yes. I need those socks.
Shit. There’s a pleated mustard-yellow mini-skirt. Not prep-school standards. Much, much shorter.
I grab it and then, on my way to the dressing room, I grab a white button-down with the crest on the left breast. And when I put it all on in the dressing room I feel… yes. Fine. Ridiculous. Wearing this stuff is like displaying the height of asshole privilege.
But I look damn cute in this outfit.
I take it all up to the cashier and wait my turn, then spend way more money than I’m comfortable with on my newfound school spirit.
It’s wrong.
I feel it inside. I know it’s wrong. This place is run by evil people and I am, right now in this moment, part of a secret plan to bring the whole thing down.
But I want to belong here. I really do.
I have spent my whole life on this campus as an outsider and I’m tired of it.
I just want to fit in.
One year. That’s all I’m going to get. Just one year of this experience. Then who knows? It’s not wrong to enjoy it while it lasts as long as I understand that it’s not going to last.
And I do understand that.
I’ve made my peace with that.
When Cooper leaves at the end of the year, I will go with him.
The admin building is busy. Thankfully. There is a line down the stairs to see the Chairman, and even though I wasn’t really worried about bumping into him, there is no chance of it happening now.
Besides, I’m in too good of a mood to care at the moment. My shiny yellow plastic bag from the bookstore is heavy with purchases. It has the High Court logo on it and just carrying it around makes me happy. It’s a very nice bag too for being plastic. Thick and smooth and filled with school spirit.
I giggle to myself as I make my way down the open stairwell to the basement level where the bursar is and when I arrive the entire room is filled with people
I guess I’ll be here for a while.
Also fine. Nothing is going to ruin my day. Not even a line spilling out the door to the interior office of the bursar that’s twenty deep.
Cooper and Ax will be tied up in Capstone Orientation for another hour, at least.
Besides, now I have time to practice fitting in by staring at my phone. Something I didn’t do much of before a couple weeks ago. I keep busy with games and internet surfing like everyone else.
“Cadee?”
I look over my shoulder and then blink a few times, trying to understand what I’m seeing. “Mona? Wow. You look… different.”
Gone is her wild just-fucked hair. Gone are her stilettos and red lips too.
Mona Monroe doesn’t look anything like the rebel I know her to be. She looks… amazing.
Not that she was anything but beautiful at the beginning of summer. She was always hot and sexy in a very specific way.
Just not this way.
“You like it?” Mona does a little twirl to show off her very sophisticated shift dress, flat strappy sandals, and… is that a pearl necklace?
I blink again. “Love it, Mona. It’s… very nice.”
“You hate it?” She pouts her matte-pink lips.
“No, not at all! I love it. It’s just different. Sophisticated. Very… Jackie O.”
She looks around nervously. We’re not supposed to be friends anymore. Not that we were ever besties or anything. But we got close over the summer. Kinda. Then she leans in and whispers, “Dante made me change my look. Actually, the Chairman ordered him to take me to Rodeo Drive and he was instructed not to bring me back until I was, quote, ‘less Janice Joplin and more Grace Kelly.’”
“Janice… who?”
She laughs. And that hasn’t changed. It’s a little barky and way too loud. “Never mind. Is it horrible?”
“Not at all.” And I mean it. “Way to go, Princess Mona.”
She pretends to flip her hair. Which is impossible, because it’s in an updo that is sleek and definitely doesn’t say ‘I was just fucked.’ She looks like she’s going to a cocktail party. “That’s Queen Mona to you.”
Then we both giggle.
“What are you doing here?”
“Oh.” She sighs. “I had to come sign the tuition check. I don’t really have control over my estate money, but I still have to sign for it. So what dorm are you in? Maybe we’ll be in the same one and we can have a sneaky friendship?”
“Dorm? No. I’m staying at the inn.”
“Oh, right. I forgot.” She looks over her shoulder at the stairs. Which are empty now. I’m the last in line still, but the room has gotten considerably less crowded. “Well, I better go. Dante and I have a meeting with the Chairman at eleven. He’s taking us to his dining room for brunch.”
“Fun. It’s nice in there. Very fancy.”
She shoots me a weird look. “Have you been in there?”
“My mom’s in catering, remember? I’ve helped her out a few times over the years.” My sentence comes out a little bit mixed—both present and past tense and a wave of sadness creeps past my good mood.
“Oh. Right. Sorry,” Mona says. “Didn’t mean to bring that up.”
“It’s fine.” And now I look over my shoulder in a sneaky way. “We’re going to make them pay. It’s going to work out.”
Mona places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes as her face goes suddenly serious. “We will, Cadee. Don’t worry.”
“I’m really not worried.” And it’s true. I just have this internal sense that we’re the good guys here. And I don’t care what anyone says. The good guys always win in the end. “It might take a while, but I’m going to get justice for all of it.”
“Yes,” Mona agrees. “I’ll see you around, right?” Then she makes a zipper motion across her lips. She looks around one more time, then leans in. “This is goodbye. But if you need anything…” She stares down at me, serious. “You come to me, OK?”