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EMMIE
As much as I might have prayed it wouldn’t happen, Monday morning rolls around faster than I thought possible.
I perch on the edge of my bed and stare at my Knight’s Ridge uniform with dread sitting heavy in my stomach.
If I thought I didn’t want to start there at the beginning of the school year, then it has nothing on now.
Back then I could only imagine what kind of epic douchebags were inside the walls of that fancy school. Now, I know.
And knowing the devil is most definitely worse than just assuming.
I’ve spent all weekend locked in my room, typing up my homework and trying to lose myself in shitty TV. The only contact I had with the outside world has been via the burner Seb gave me.
I told myself after leaving Cherry’s that I’d put my phone on and reach out to Misha, but when I got home and actually thought about it, I quickly changed my mind.
Whether or not I go to her party tonight, though, is yet to be decided. I guess it just depends on how my day goes and whether I feel the need to go and drown in the pits of hell.
My phone beeps on the bedside table and I reach over for it.
Sebella: You’re going to nail it. x
Obviously, my initial reaction is to roll my eyes at their name. I might have set it as their contact, but every time I see it I groan at how annoyingly cute and couple-y it is.
I also can’t help wondering what mine and Theo’s nickname could be—until I realise that my mind has gone to him once again and I slam my thoughts down hard.
Emmie: Thanks. I’m sure it’ll be tons of fun.
I add a thumbs up and smiling face emoji just to lay on the sarcasm hard.
Sebella: We’ve got your back, cous!
A smile twitches at my lips. Something tells me that they’ll wait in the car park for me and literally watch my back as I walk into that building with my head held high.
Hopefully, it’ll give me the confidence I need to get through the day.
I don’t want to be a pussy and hide. But right now, the temptation is real.
Every single one of my movements is slow and forced as I try to come up with any kind of serious reason to get out of going. But I know it’s not going to happen.
So I straighten my hair to within an inch of its life and make an extra effort with my dark war paint. If I’m going to spend the day being the subject of everyone’s attention, then I may as well look awesome doing it.
“Morning, Em. How are you feeling?” Piper asks the second I join her in the kitchen.
“Yeah, you know. Dreading it,” I confess, sliding onto the stool as she passes me a mug of coffee.
“It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
“Piper,” I sigh, appreciating her efforts and positivity, “you know those guys as well as I do. Everything is not going to be fine.”
“I’ve got faith in you, Em. And if you need anything, you know where I am.”
I nod at her, appreciating the gesture but already knowing that I’m not going to go crying to my step-mummy because the big bad Cirillo prince is after me.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“I’ve got bacon. That should set you up for the day.”
Thankfully, she changes the topic of conversation as I sip on my coffee and pulls out a frying pan.
