Becca leans back in her chair, twisting around to face me, her eyes hungry for details. “Relax. We’re just saying—Whistle doesn’t get mad unless?—”
“I don’t care about Whistle,” I cut in.
“Damn,” someone near the window says. “Someone woke up spicy.”
Before I can respond with something that will definitely get me detention, the classroom door swings open with a sharp click. “Sisk Zaitseva.”
“Yes?” my teacher says, already annoyed at the interruption.
“Office,” Mrs. Adler says. “Now.”
A current ripples through the room. “Ooooh.”
Becca’s eyebrows lift. I stand without a word, sling my bag over my shoulder, and walk out. Whatever this is about, it’s better than being interrogated about last night. The truth is, I’m pissed. I’m pissed at Jax for that kiss, and I’m pissed at my own stupid heart for wanting more of it.
The whole point of that stupid party was to forget him and his amazing, stupid lips. The exact opposite happened. I got in his car and stared out the window, refusing to look at him, secretly wishing he’d just pull me close and make me forget it all with another kiss. He did none of that. He just dropped me off at home like a perfect good boy, which was a thousand times worse than any argument. It just proved I’m a dumb girl who fell for a bad guy. And the worst part? Turns out he was telling the truth.He’s an actual fucking gentleman.
Mrs. Adler closes the door behind us. “Sit,” she orders.
I do.
She opens a manila folder, straightens the papers inside with meticulous precision.
“We received confirmation this morning from the Atlantic Ballet Academy.”
My pulse kicks. My breath stops.
“You’ve been accepted into their residential program,” she continues. “Full scholarship. Housing included.”
I can’t breathe.
“You’ll start this fall. This is not an offer extended lightly, Sisk,” she says, assessing. “This is a life-changing opportunity.”
I grip the edge of the chair.
“They cited your discipline, control, and emotional range,” she adds. “You stood out.”
Mrs. Adler studies me as if she’s waiting for a reaction. “Congratulations. This is a rare opportunity. Don’t let distractions cost you everything you’ve worked for.”
She slides the folder across the desk.
My ticket.
Out.
Of.
Tar City.
I nod because it’s easier than speaking, because words feel like they would shatter the fragile shell holding me together.
When I step back into the hallway, the bell rings and the school explodes into noise. It’s a chaotic symphony of normalcy, and I’m standing on the outside of it.
At the other end of the hall, Ivan looks up from his locker the second he sees me.
“Well?” he asks as I walk by. “What was that about?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I got in,” I say.
