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Chapter Three
The next day, I return to school happier than I should be. Bernadette is still missing after all. But I can’t deny how hopeful I am that something real is happening between Emmett and me. That maybe he really will prove himself to be a good person, who can treat me well now that he’s out from under the influence of the other Elites.
Before WJ Prep, I had never worn a uniform before. Now, every day, it has become second nature to throw on a pleated skirt and monogrammed shirt and cardigan with the WJ logo. In the beginning it felt itchy and uncomfortable, but now I barely notice. I’ve even gotten used to carrying around a change of running clothes and can zip in between outfits like a superhero.
WJ Prep is like a cult where everyone is beautiful, frightening, and dangerous. Each at the mercy of their parents and committing the same acts of violence on the rest of the world that are committed on them at home. All the Elites care about is money and power.
This school is a different universe where the students are all perfect and gorgeous. You don’t show up here on a bad hair day. It’s nothing like my old school in Oklahoma, where everyone was frumpy and laid back. Most people there were poor like us, but here…I think our family is the only one without money.
I’ve learned to walk these halls with caution, but I’m still getting used to the feeling of that fear being gone. I can still remember being warned about them on my first day: “If they don’t like you, then nobody does.” The words have echoed through my mind endlessly since that first day. At first I thought I didn’t care, but I quickly found out that not being liked around here is a lot more brutal than you’d think.
The Weis, Blackwater, Whitworth, and Nickelson families all teamed up with the town’s founders, the Jamesons, and started the Jameson Automobile Company back in the 1800s. They make luxury cars for rich people. All of those families except one remain in the town and they are like gods around here. The only family that is left? The Nickelsons—part of which is now known as the Lopez family. As in Ophelia Lopez, my mother’s maiden name, which she took back after leaving my dad…Theodore Nickelson, or Theo for short. Not that the connection has ever done me any favors. In fact, it has made my life much worse around here.
Shortly after Emmett and I met, I got a call from the Headmaster of Weis-Jameson Preparatory Academy offering me a full-ride scholarship for my senior year. My research found that their track and field program was nationally ranked and was responsible for numerous Olympic athletes. David Granger was the legendary coach of the team and a former bronze Olympian himself.
As I walk to class, trying to hide the persistent smile on my face, a pair of arms suddenly grabs me from behind. Given my past experiences at WJ Prep, I immediately shriek and try to break free from their grip, but I stop in shock when I see it’s Emmett.
“You’re back?” I gape, my heart still pounding from what I thought was an attack.
“Sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he answers casually, sliding his hands back around my waist and pulling me in for a kiss right there in the middle of the hallway.
“What are you doing?” I ask against his lips, looking around at the staring students passing by. It’s too much to take in at once. Calling me ‘babe,’ the PDA.
“What do you mean?” he scoffs.
“People are looking at us,” I inform him, cutting my eyes to the glaring girls in the corner.
“So? Are you embarrassed of me?” he laughs, pulling me to his side as we continue walking down the hall.
I remember Emmett and Vivian walking down these halls like this, side by side, their arms around each other and her hand in his back pocket. I refuse to mirror their image. I pull away from him and squeeze his hand in mine. Any small gesture to make me feel like we are different.
“I’m just…surprised is all,” I explain, feeling like I’m
experiencing some kind of emotional whiplash. “Guess I’m used to you keeping whatever this is between us under wraps.”
“Things are different now. I’m not stuck with Vivian,” he states plainly. “Besides…with all the rumors flying around about our family scandals…people need the distraction.”
Any giddiness I felt rising inside me is quickly squashed. “Figures this would be a strategic social move for you.” I roll my eyes.
“That…” he confesses reluctantly, “and I want everyone to know you’re mine.” He stops and whips me back around for another long, slow, unapologetic kiss.
“I never said I was yours,” I tease him, biting at his lip. But the statement is true.
“Are you not?” he asks, with a deep voice and questioning eyes, but I can’t bring myself to answer him.
Sure, he’s broken up with Vivian, but I don’t remember ever agreeing to take her place. And with that thought, Lily’s words echo through my brain. The last time I talked to her, right before Emmett found me, she warned that I’d be the next Vivian—something I swore would never happen. No, agreeing to ‘belong’ to Emmett in some way does not automatically make me the same awful, shallow monster Vivian was. But I worry about what comes along with being his girlfriend. Does it open up a whole can of worms that leads to me being just as hardened and bitchy as she was?
As I stand there, trying to stammer through the start of a reply, my heart drops at the two figures leaning against the lockers down the hall.
“Oh, shit. Speak of the devil,” I murmur. Emmett looks to me cluelessly. “Look.” I nod toward Lily and Vivian’s glaring faces. “I guess you’re not the only one who decided to come back to school today. Why is Lily with Vivian?”
“Don’t worry about them,” he says, unconvincingly, but his head stays turned in their direction. He stares right back at them, and I can’t tell if it’s from interest or disgust.
“Oh, sorry…but the idea of you and Vivian in the same building together is still pretty triggering for me…for a number of reasons,” I reply bitterly, pulling his arm to regain his attention.
“Let’s just focus on the present,” he insists, turning too slowly to put his arm back around me. “Right now. The present, and moving forward.”
“Easy for you to say,” I mutter under my breath, but regrettably loud enough for him to hear.
