Page 167 of Wicked Brutal

By first period, I almost convince myself I’m being dramatic. By second, that dies.

Mrs. Caldwell stops me after English. “Alison. How are you doing?”

Suspicious question number one.

“Good.”

“With everything?”

Suspicious question number two.

I shift my books. “What everything?”

Her smile is warm. Too warm. “The transfer.”

My stomach tightens. “Oh.”

“Your father spoke with the administration. I understand this is all moving rather quickly. Sainte-Catherine is an exceptional school.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.”

“You’ll have wonderful opportunities there. You’ve seemed more outgoing lately.”

My skin prickles.

Mrs. Caldwell smiles. “I’m glad you’ve made friends before you leave.”

“Thanks.”

I don’t text anyone. Not yet. Because suddenly I’m wondering whether teachers can see me using my phone. Whether someone checks. Whether Dad has asked. Whether I’m being paranoid. By the time I reach the stairs, I decide paranoia is probably healthy when your father has been secretly preparing to ship you to Switzerland since October.

At ten twenty-three, I see the town car. Second-floor window. Across the street. Black. Parked. Daniel behind the wheel. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Cat follows my stare. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s been there all morning?”

“I have no idea.”

She watches the car for another second.

“That’s creepy.”

“Thank you. I was worried pregnancy had made me unreasonable.”

“No, pregnancy has made you cry over garlic bread.”

“It was really good garlic bread.”

“It was frozen.”

“Don’t diminish my experience.” Her mouth twitches. Mine almost does. Then I look back outside. Daniel hasn’t moved. Neither has the car.

Cat’s expression sobers. “Ryan know?”

“About Daniel. Not that he’s camping outside like a divorced dad at a soccer tournament.”