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ChapterOne
ASH
Sighing at the tentative knock on my bedroom door, I close my eyes for a brief second. “It’s open,” I call out as cheerfully as I can muster. On the inside, I am anything but, but my aunt doesn’t need to know that. The thing about being all sunshine and rainbows all the time is that when the dark clouds gather, as they usually do, it’s hard for those around you to adjust.
Felicity opens the door hesitantly, popping her head in through the crack in the door. She could easily just come in. This is her house, and I’m an open book, but my aunt isn’t intrusive. It’s one thing I like about her. That and her ability to make even the obscurest of situations bearable. “You all set, Ash?” Her smile is wide—familiar—and for a moment, that nagging ache I can’t seem to evade is back, clawing at my chest and screaming to break free.
“Yeah, I’ll be down in a minute.” I plaster on a smile for her benefit and turn back to the full-length mirror, tucking a stray strand of my curly brown hair behind my ears. I meet her gaze in the reflection, and she offers me a small smile, then backs away, pulling the door shut. I can hear her tentative, retreating footsteps and exhale.
Living here in Rothwell with my aunt wasn’t part of my grand plan. But then, nothing that’s happened this past year has been. Life, as they say, happens when you’re making other plans. Life has thrown me one curveball after another, and I surprise myself every day that I’m still standing.
Glancing at the picture on my dressing table, I realize that even the best-laid plans can’t escape reality.
I push my dark-rimmed glasses up my nose and grab my bag before barreling down the stairs.
Felicity is in the kitchen stirring scrambled eggs in the pan and humming to herself. Marcy sits at the island, sipping orange juice and scrolling through her phone idly.
She smiles at me. “So, ready for the big day, little cousin?”
Marcella is every bit the beauty queen my aunt is. They have the same olive skin, a large mass of raven curls, and hazel eyes. My mom, a mousy brunette like me, always envied her older sister, and I could see why.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I say, sinking into a seat next to her.
“You’re gonna love it. Rothwell Academy is the best college on this side of the country. And I am not just saying that because they pay my salary,” my aunt says, shoveling scrambled eggs onto my plate. I’m not a breakfast person, but Felicity and Marcy won’t let me miss it. The first meal of the day and all.
“Plus, I’m not letting her out of my sight.” Marcy wraps an arm around my shoulder, tugging me closer to her. That is precisely what I’m afraid of. Marcy is beautiful and popular, and she’s already given me a run-down of all the clubs to join and the circles to hang out in.
Since I moved in a month ago, my aunt and cousin have been hovering. Not that I don’t appreciate them, I do, wholeheartedly. Sometimes it's like I'm a foreigner in my own life.
“And I’m just a call away. You know that right, sweetheart?”
“I appreciate it, Aunt City, but I’ll be fine. I’ll probably be drowning in coursework, anyway.”
“Oh, I know the Dean of Arts. If you need to ease into it, I could have a word with her.”
I shake my head quickly. “That’s all right. I’m a quick learner.” The last thing I need is to be singled out for any reason.
“Okay, you two, you better get going.” Felicity looks at the clock above the refrigerator, and I notice she’s right.
Marcy stuffs a few more forkfuls of eggs into her mouth, downs her juice, then practically pulls me out of the door.
I scan the neighborhood, and everything’s abuzz this time of the morning.
“Hey, Mr. Kent,” Marcy shouts to where our neighbor stands, unlocking his vehicle. He turns and offers us a wave before climbing into his Jeep.
What fascinates me about Rothwell is that many students still live with their parents. I guess when you have the money most people here have, why would you want to rough it up in a frat house?
Dylan Kent, Marcy’s very good-looking boyfriend, takes the stairs from his porch two at a time and stalks over to where we’re standing next to his Mustang. His tousled hair looks like a professional styled it.
Felicity offered to give me a ride on my first day, but my cousin would hear nothing of it. Driving to college with her would be social suicide according to Marcella. My aunt is a lecturer in the department of music.
After a few seconds of sucking face with no regard for present company, Dylan turns to me with a grin, “Hey, Ash. You are looking fine this morning.”
I nod awkwardly, my face burning from their PDA and his undue compliment.
“Let’s ride, girls.”
Marcy lets out a hoot, and I sheepishly climb into the back seat of his car. Pop music blasts through the speakers, a song even I’m familiar with, the song name and artist not so much. “We’re gonna have so much fun!” Marcy shouts, her hand stretched out of the passenger side window. This is going to be a long day.
