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THE SCHOOL HALLWAYS CAVE IN on me as I walk through what would be my first day at Riverside Preparatory Academy. The sound of closing lockers and snickering voices surround me, and all I want to do is go visit my mom’s grave. My dad moved us across the state, because he had found “the one.” I’m beginning to think he can’t count. This would be his third “the one” since my mom’s passing.
Reaching my locker, I pull it open and place my brand-new textbooks inside before taking out my class schedule. Calculus. Great. My leather bangles jingle as I close my locker door and make my way to calculus. It’s September, so at least I’m starting at the beginning of the school year.
Halting at the threshold of the classroom, I look down to my paper to check the numbers before looking at the ones mounted above the door. Ignoring the twenty or so eyes gawking at me, I manage to slip out, “Is this 1DY for calculus?”
The teacher, I assume, walks up to me, his black-rimmed glasses shielding his tired eyes and his gray hair illustrating his age. “Yes, Madison Montgomery?”
Swallowing, I nod. “Yes, that’s me.”
“Welcome to Riverside Prep. I’m Mr. Warner. Why don’t you take a seat?”
I smile at him, clutching my books, and walk toward the crowd of students who are all sitting in their chairs, and that’s when the whispering starts.
“Madison Montgomery? Isn’t that the girl whose mom murdered her dad’s girlfriend before killing herself?”
“Are you sure?” her friend asks, eyeing me skeptically. “She seemed so much prettier in the newspapers.”
“No, that’s definitely her. Her dad is loaded too. They’re from old money, and her mom was a bored housewife who caught her husband cheating. So she stabbed the woman to death before shooting herself in the head—with Madison’s shotgun.” The air begins to thicken as I drop down to my seat.
“Her shotgun? She owns a shotgun? Ew. Better stay away from her. She might be as crazy as her mother.”
They laugh before Mr. Warner clicks his fingers, demanding their attention. I close my eyes briefly, swallowing down any hope I had at getting a fresh start at a new school. Nothing and no one could give me a new beginning. Who was I kidding?
At first break, I walk to the outside entrance and take a seat on one of the steps. The way the school is laid out allows students to use the front steps to eat their lunch or the cafeteria. The atrium is filled with students, so I opt to eat out here where the sun is shining and where it’s less… people-y.
“Hi!” a chirpy voice bellows, and I look up behind me to find a girl who’s as small as a pixie. Her tiny body is covered in the finest labeled clothes, and her white-blonde hair has the sun bouncing off it. I also can’t help but notice that where my wrists are bound by black metal and leather bangles, hers are silver and gold. I know instantly we can’t be friends.
“Hi.” I tuck my brown hair behind my ear.
She sits down beside me anyway, taking a bite out of her sandwich. “I’m Tatum. You’re new, right?”
I nod, sucking the juice from my apple off my thumb. “Yup. Sorry, you probably don’t want to be seen with me.”
She waves my comment away. “I know all about you. Madison Montgomery, seventeen years old. Daughter of a murderer who then shot herself. Dad has money coming out his butt. Came from Beverly Hills to the Hamptons. Have I missed anything?”
I blink slowly before narrowing my eyes. “You forgot the part where it was my gun.”
She laughs nervously. “I know. I was just hoping that wasn’t true.”
“My point. You probably don’t want to be seen with me.” I turn my attention back to my apple.
She shakes her head. “Nope, you and I are going to be great friends.”
After break, I carry on to my next class, and before I know it, the bell rings for lunch. Tatum insists on showing me around the school the best she can, pointing out all the different classrooms and where I can sign up for what. During lunch, the boys come from their side of the school, and we all join in the cafeteria, which splits the girl and boy sides of the school. On the rich side, it’s up there on Bill Gates’s status, and I’m seriously wondering how the hell my father managed to get me in. We’re rich, yes, but there’s something else about this school. You need a high level of pedigree to get in, too.
We walk into the cafeteria, and Tatum points down to my skirt. “You can accessorize your school uniform. We can hem it higher if we want.” My plaid school skirt sits just above my knees, and I’m okay with the length. I don’t want to attract any more attention, so I brush off her suggestion.
