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“And she said you haven’t been trying very hard at all with learning the history of the sorority house and?—”
“That’s bullshit,” I cut her off before I have to hear any more of these lies.
“Don’t you use that tone with me. And watch your language. No wonder Aimee has such a problem with you. You don’t talk like this in the house, do you?”
“No,” I mutter.
“You better not, Mikayla Evelyn Hyde. I raised you better than that. How could you embarrass me this way?”
“I’m not swearing in the house,” I snap, then huff and clamp my lips together when a group of students walk past me with frowny faces on. I force a smile and keep walking back to the Sig Be house. I kind of want to storm in there, find Aimee, and tear her shiny blonde hair out. How could she dump on me like this?
“Well, you must be doing something wrong.”
“I am trying. I really am. I don’t know why she’s got it in for me.”
“Aimee? Has it in for you? Don’t be ridiculous. She’s trying tohelpyou. She called her dad out of concern.”
I’m sure she did.
“You’re making life really hard on her, Mikayla. She promised Jarrod she’d do her best to get you in, but she only has so much sway. Being president gives her some influence, but these girls are close, and if enough of them don’t like you, she’ll have no choice but to ask you to leave. And not only will that break my heart, but I can’t guarantee that Jarrod will be happy to keep funding your education if you’re going to treat his daughter with so little respect.”
This is un-fucking-believable!
I tip my head up to the sky, clenching my hand into a fist as waves of desperation rage through me. I hate that I’m in this position. I hate that I’m bound by all these stupid conditions. If Mom wasn’t trying to impress Aimee’s father so much, I wouldn’t have to put up with this crap. Why can’t she just stand up for me and tell Jarrod that I deserve this opportunity without having to follow in his precious daughter’s footsteps?
Mom’s changed since meeting Jarrod. Sure, she’s been happy, and it’s great to see her loved-up this way, but there’s also this underlying fear that seems to drive her, like she’s petrified that any one little thing will push him away and she’ll be left again. She’ll go back to being a stressed-out single mother—the woman she hated back in Fontana.
“Mom.” I let out a sigh. “I know you want me to succeed here, I really do. I know the conditions, and I’m trying. I swear, I’m trying.”
This seems to appease her, but still… she can’t help a little sniff before muttering, “Well, you need to try harder. Okay, sweetie? I want your best effort. Now go do something good for those sisters. Do whatever it takes to make up for your misconduct, because I do not want Jarrod getting another call like that from Aimee.” She sighs and then mumbles, “I love you. Now go make me proud,” before hanging up.
I pull the phone away from my ear, giving it the finger before shoving it back in my pocket.
I am so livid right now. I could strangle perfect Miss Aimee Walters. I break into a run and reach the house in record time. I was hoping the exercise would help me burn off some of this steam, but it’s only made me sweat and arrive at the house a heaving, mussed-up mess.
Stomping up the front steps, I fling the door open and yell, “Aimee!”
Yes, it’s unladylike, probably undignified, but do I give a shit?
Nope on a rope!
“Aimee!” I call again, storming up the stairs into forbidden territory. That’s right, only junior and senior sorority girls get top-floor privileges. I’ll no doubt get told off for walking my dirty little self through this plush part of the house, but I am so beyond caring.
I reach the door that has SORORITY PRESIDENT embossed on the front and am about to pound the wood when it swings open.
“Mikayla. I thought I heard you call. If you’d been patient, you wouldn’t have had to walk all the way up here.”
I cross my arms, trying to clamp down this torrent of emotion. “What have you been saying to your dad?”
She looks confused for a second, tipping her head like she’s trying to figure out what I’m talking about.
“Aimee,” I snap. “How could you complain about me behind my back?”
“I wasn’t complaining.” She blinks. “I was concerned.”
“Oh, whatever! Cut the bullshit.”
Her opaque blue eyes flash, that innocent veneer dropping away as she sighs and grips the edge of the door. “Fine. He asked after you, and I told him…the truth.”
