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“Um. Thanks. How did you…find out?”
“We got the letter,” Pearl says.
The letter?
She then whisks a letter off the foyer and holds it out for me. It’s folded in three places, and I have to flatten it out.
Ms. Kenzi Stratton,
We’re delighted to inform you that you’ve been accepted to…
“Holy shit,” I gasp. “I’m off the waitlist.”
I reread the letter. Twice.
“I’m going to Berklee!”
Pearl lets out a whoop, and Four pulls out a noisemaker from who knows where and blows into it.
For the first time in weeks, I’m grinning ear to ear. My mom wraps her arms around me, and I find myself clinging to her, crushing her against me.
“I knew you’d do it, darling,” she says.
I bury my face in her shoulder and fight off tears that have been welling up all day.
“That’s all it takes,” Four goes off, his voice meandering. “Hard work. Patience. And a little angel on your shoulder.”
I release Pearl from my death-grip hug. “What angel?” I ask.
Four looks pleased with himself. “I had lunch with the Kings the other day. I mentioned to him that you were waitlisted. Leonard said he’d look into it. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but, well…”
“Well,” I echo. My heart is a balloon, deflating.
“It seems Leonard put in a good word for you after all,” Four says.
An angel on my shoulders…or a devil.
“Oh, isn’t that nice?” Pearl muses.
I feel like I swallowed a rock. My one bubble of hope, this precious moment that I could finally hold on to, now sullied.
The Kings giveth. The Kings taketh away.
I know what this is: a small taste of the power he wields. It’s like Donovan said—the only thing Mr. King wants is control.
Just like his son, Mr. King is persistent. I’m an inconvenience. A black mark on his son’s otherwise perfect record. And he’ll never stop until I give him exactly what he wants.
He’ll follow me. To college. Anywhere I go.
The knowledge is dizzying, and I sway on my feet. This room is suddenly too tiny. Pearl and Four are too close. My very bones itch.
“I…have to pee,” I lie. “I’ll be right back.”
“The cupcake!” Pearl’s voice pitches.
I quickly blow out the candle, take a bite off the top, and shout, “It’s delicious!” before rushing upstairs to the bathroom.
I lock the door, close the toilet lid, and sit on it.
