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I frown, my eyes lingering on the cast. “I can’t wait to get this stupid thing off.”
I’m like a kid pouting because her mom won’t get her a candy bar at the grocery store, and yes, I know it could’ve been worse. I could’ve lost my entire leg or died, but I don’t care to be reminded of those things.
“It’s going to be okay. You’ll get over this hurdle, I promise.”
“I know. Thanks for the lunch and books. I appreciate you coming to hang out with me even if I’m being a big baby right now.”
“We all have days where we mope, cry, and whine. What matters are the days when you get back up and continue pushing on.”
As much as I don’t want Brittney to leave, I know she has to. After she is gone, I’m left with her parting words swirling around inside my head. I’m tempted to crawl back under the sheets and go to sleep, but I grab my laptop instead. I need to check my email and make sure none of my teachers have marked my assignments as missing.
I’ve been doing everything I can to get work done, but a lot of it is hands on, so if I’m not in class to do it, then I’m basically failing.
As soon as the screen loads, I want to slam the laptop closed and pretend like I never saw the email from Lucas, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I move my cursor over the email and click on it. The email opens on a new screen.
My eyes scan the screen as I devour all the words in the email. Bile rises in my throat, burning the sensitive tissue as I read. He wants me to come to his office. He needs to talk to me.
To do that, I would have to leave this room, but if I don’t go, then he’ll come here anyway, and he’ll definitely be pissed about it. It’s better if I go to him because if he has to come to me… I’ve got enough trouble going on without pissing off the headmaster.
Regardless of how anxious I am about leaving this room, I’ll do it. First thing in the morning.
* * *
Turns out,I was right to worry because the asshole people in this school are even less considerate of me than they were before. I’ve been shoved so many times since I left my dorm, I stopped counting. The bruises on my arms hurt like hell, and the muscles in my leg ache from the way I have to balance on it.
What should take me only fifteen minutes ends up taking me thirty, and by the time I get to the administration office, I’m sweaty and have a permanent scowl on my face.
A woman sitting behind a desk greets me with a fake smile. “Good morning. How can I help you?”
“Mr. Diavolo requested my presence.” I try my best not to sound bitchy, but that’s much easier to do when you don’t feel like a tennis ball that’s been whacked across the court for the last half an hour.
His assistant types something into the computer while I lean on my crutches, my chest heaving as I suck air into my lungs. It might not seem like a long walk, and it’s not when you’re walking on two good legs, but with crutches and dodging bodies, it seems way longer.
“Ahhh, yes. I see he made a note for you to come and talk to him. Head on in.” She looks up at me and gestures to the door on the left side of her desk.
I swallow down my fear of what’s going to take place in that office any second from now and trudge forward. As soon as I open the door, I want to turn around. Lucas is intimidating, and without Quinton’s protection, I feel like a lighthouse on the beach ready to take the battering of the ocean.
“Have a seat, Aspen.” Lucas gestures to the two seats in front of his desk.
My stomach knots, and I look at the seats and back at him. Lucas is what I would call a dangerous sort of handsome. For an older man, he appears rather youthful. Maybe it’s the fact that he is covered in tattoos.
His features are still firm, and his body, which I imagine is chiseled from stone, probably doesn’t show his age either.
I hobble over to a chair and almost let out a sigh when my ass hits the seat. Lucas watches me intently, his dark gaze penetrating deep inside me. It’s terrifying.
His lips press into a thin line, and I open my mouth to ask him what’s going on when he speaks.
“I know you’ve been through a lot, and with your broken leg, it might be hard to attend classes, but I can’t let you graduate if you aren’t going.”
It’s the final nail in the coffin known as my life. Not really, but it feels like it. The weight of his words slams into me, and my response sputters out.
“I understand. I’ll start going to classes tomorrow. I’ve just been wary with the leg, and I take a lot longer to get places, but I don’t want to risk not graduating or having to take classes over next year.”
He nods. “I’m sure it’s difficult, but my hands are tied.”
I don’t ask him in what way they’re tied. I don’t care. I knew I’d have to go back to classes. It just turns out I am going a little earlier than expected.
“It’s fine. I’ll go.”
