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“Whatever.” I turn back around and continue to Emily Hall.
All he said was that I didn’t belong to Benji, and that’s the truth.
So why are the butterflies in your stomach fluttering?
15
“Are you coming?” Celeste shouts from down our hallway. “I don’t want to be late.”
“Yea, just give me a sec.” I shout back. “I just need to check my email real quick, and then we can go.”
Ever since the initiation party a few weeks ago, Taylor has insisted on walking Celeste to every single one of her classes. When his schedule doesn’t match hers, he’s asked me to do it. If you ask me, he just likes spoiling her.
I don’t mind doing it for the most part, but every day without a confirmation from Weaver on his damn decision raises my anxiety and shortens my temper.
I quickly sit at my desk and fire up my laptop. When I get to my school email account, there are two emails waiting for me from Stratham U Admin Offices.
I prepare for at least one of them to be from Dr. Weaver with his final decision on my status at this school. He implied that I would have his decision by today after the countless follow up emails I sent to him arguing my position.
I look at the timestamps and decide to open the one from an hour ago versus the one from six hours ago. I’m guessing that the one from six hours ago must be the school’s newsletter because no one at this school goes to work before seven a.m.
I take a deep breath in and prepare for the worst.
Dear Ms. Hawton,
I’m sending this notification to formally inform you of my decision about your academic career and whether Stratham University will be a part of it. I have reviewed your argument along with the facts that have been presented to me from various resources. Your presence at Stratham University has also been discussed with the board.
Despite the fact that your presence at this school has disrupted the student body, your argument submission was compelling and a true testament to your academic capabilities, which confirms that my original decision to allow you at this school was appropriate. I do hope that it will be enough to see you through to graduation, as I have decided to allow you to continue attending Stratham University.
The accusations that have been brought against you have proven to be unfounded. Much to my surprise, the student elite representative believes that you should not be punished unjustly, and I have to agree. Provided that there are no further infractions actually made by you, you may continue as a student with the original stipulations still in place.
Please know that I did not make this decision lightly, and I genuinely believe that it will cost us both greatly, but it is the right thing to do.
Dr. Charles Weaver
President, Stratham University
I read the email for a second time to make sure that what I read wasn’t a figment of my imagination and sigh in relief. Momentary crisis averted. Now I can walk Celeste to class and go see Dr. Lewis with one less burden to carry.
Before I shut everything down, I click on the prior email just to clear my unread messages and realize that my need to clear the stupid notification is a mistake.
You are on borrowed time. I will not let them have you. I will see you soon, my prize. Soon.
I stare at my screen and anger rises from my belly. This is getting really old. I’m no one’s goddamn prize. I hit reply to send a ‘fuck you’, but it just bounces back to me.
What the hell?
I reread the email again, trying to figure out who the hell keeps sending me this bullshit. It couldn’t be just anybody, because how would they know about the dress? The people who know about that fucking dress don’t know I’m here.Unless…
My heart refuses to listen to logic when I think of the possibility of it being Knight.
“Not now,” I tell myself, shaking my head clear. I can’t think about this right now. I make a mental note to set out time to find this asshole, but right now, I have to get Celeste to class.
Before I close my laptop, I notice a zip file attached to the email, and while I’m hesitant to open it, I do anyway. It might give me an idea of who the fucker who keeps sending me this shit is.
I extract the four .png files, open them, and feel an immediate punch to my gut. My breathing is short and my fingers tremble as I stare at the first photo.
This isn’t a gruesome memory or even an unpleasant one. It was clearly taken well before I was even born, but I have no doubt that the beautiful young woman in the photo, sitting on the stairs in front of Stratham University’s auditorium, laughing with her friends, is my mother.
