I felt Dad coming closer, depositing the mug on my desk and clapping my back. "Any closer to the end?"
"Just about to finish," I muttered, still typing like a madman, reaching over to the mug with my left hand and taking three scalding hot sips, not taking my eyes off the screen. "Only an hour late."
"You want me to drive you to Miss James' office so you can give her the letter?"
"Nah," I shook my head. "I'll do it, don't worry. Just another moment..." I typed the last few words and grinned at myself as I hit that final key on my keyboard. "There. It's done."
"Aced it!” Dad punched the air and I groaned at the sight.
“Dad, please take your dance moves back to the nineties and keep them there.”
“You wish,” he smirked.
“You’re saying that wrong.”
“You’re just not cool enough to get it.”
I laughed out loud as I printed the pages. "But your faith in me is duly noted, and much appreciated."
"It’s me you get it from,” he grinned. "You know I’m the brains of the family.”
“Sure, Dad.” I grabbed the print outs and grimaced at them, muttering, "Let's hope the essay's good enough to get me in."
"You’re going to rock them harder than Madonna and Britney at the 2003 MTV Video Music Awards." He gave me a hug, and I accepted it for once. "Go get 'em, champ."
"Thanks for the confidence, and the Madonna trivia. Jeez, I say that way too often around here.”
“You’re welcome,” Dad mouthed. “See you soon, kid!”
I grabbed my jacket before running through the house. Natan and my other Dad were sitting in the kitchen at the island.
"Warm croissants," Dad called out. “Get yer warm croissants!”
"Got the essay done, heading out!” I called out, dashing for the door.
"Watch the road!" came Dad’s call after me.
Natan came rushing after me, grinning as he shoved the croissant into my hand. “You gotta have one, or they’ll make me eat another plate of ‘em. Essay done?”
“It is.” I took a bite, holding the pastry with my mouth as I grabbed my car keys and baseball cap. “Congratulate me later.”
“How about now, since you scored Miss James’ address,” Natan whistled.
“How about don’t talk about that,” I reminded him.
“Some of the lacrosse guys are trying to bribe me to get it from you.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Not even for your favorite brother?” I gave him a doubtful look before he finally moved out of my way. “Your only brother.”
“Speaking of brotherly favors,” I spoke up. “What’s up with your girlfriend texting me in the middle of the night?”
“Shit, sorry.” He scratched the back of his head. “I was already asleep. She ended up taking a cab home, so it’s fine.”
“A cab?” My brows shot up. “Oh, right. Well… I’d better get going.”
“Fine, go,” he said. “But I still want that address!”
I ran to my car and tapped my fingers on the steering wheel the whole way to Miss James' place. I'd had to practically beg for her address when I knew my essay would be late, and I already had a missed call from her on my phone.
Why would Estella lie to Natan? The question kept popping up in my mind no matter how hard I tried to push it away. Instead, I tried to distract myself with Miss James.
She was new at Wildwood, having only arrived that school year and right away, she’d charmed the boxers off four years of horny high schoolers. With her long coppery hair, green eyes and pale skin, she was a fucking wet dream come alive. Not that I ever thought about that.
By the time I pulled up in front of her house, she was already standing on the porch, her arms crossed, and her lips pursed. I didn’t notice the piles of boxes surrounding her until I pulled into her driveway. When she saw me pulling up, she breathed a sigh of relief, and I got out of the car wearing a huge grin on my face.
"Done, done and done," I called out. "Here are the pages. Thank you so much for giving me this extension."
"You know I've got your back," she smiled, taking the pages from me. Her eyes were bloodshot. "What gave you the push to do it? Divine intervention?"
I thought of Estella, with a ketchup stain on her glittery dress and her glossy hair all in her face. "Something like that.”
"Well, I'm glad you finished," Miss James smiled. "So glad, Milo. I knew you could do it."
“Hey, are you okay?” I furrowed my brows, motioning to the boxes, choosing not to mention the redness in her eyes. “What’s going on there?”
“Oh, I…” She bit her bottom lip. “It’s… a bit of a bad time.”
“Because?”
“Milo, I don’t think…” She blushed, looking away as a little sob escaped her. “I just broke up with my boyfriend.”
“Oh, shit.” I shifted my weight from one foot to another. “Sorry, Miss James.”
She looked so pretty that morning I could hardly imagine anyone wanting to break up with her. She was wearing a red sundress and sandals, with her flame-red hair falling down her back in waves. For the first time, I found myself wondering what her first name was.
"Thank you. I'll get this to the head of admissions at Eastvale right away," she promised. "Would you..." she hesitated, glancing back toward her house. "Do you want a cup of coffee or something? It’s too early for me to think straight.”
"Errr..." I hesitated. "No offense, but I’d better get going."
"You're right," she laughed nervously. "What was I thinking? Thanks for dropping this off, Milo."
"Thank you," I grinned. "I know it's in good hands from here on out. "I'll see you Monday at school?"
"You will," she nodded. "Have a great weekend, Milo."
She waved at me as I pulled out of her driveway, but it wasn't until I was already on the road that I glanced in my rearview mirror to get a better look at her. She really was a nice piece of ass, that Miss James. Completely off-limits, too.
Just my type.
4
DATE: SEPTEMBER 3RD, 2019, 9 A.M.
PLACE: WILDWOOD ACADEMY
ESTELLA
The moment I stepped over the Wildwood threshold; I knew things would be different this time around. It was my senior year. I was set to have the best time of my life, but it soon became obvious that Tinsley Sullivan had ruined everything for me.
I saw the hints everywhere. The faint outlines of butterflies on people's wrists, the whispers that followed me wherever I went. I heard them talking, but I kept my head held high and ignored what they said about me. I'd made some decisions over the summer that the students were undoubtedly going to judge, but I didn't give a damn. I wanted to be feared. It was safer than being mocked and ridiculed, like Tinsley had been last year when she'd started at Wildwood.
I met up with Inca in the morning, and jealousy twisted my stomach into a thousand knots when I saw her. She'd been away for the summer and came back tan and beautiful. She'd really blossomed since I'd met her, not just because I'd been helping her with her wardrobe. Hers was a natural beauty that I could never replicate. Innocent, sweet and timid - adjectives nobody would ever use to describe me.
"How was your summer?" I asked Inca as we made our way to our first classroom. She was taking advanced English classes, which put us in the same class even though she was younger. "Had fun?"
"It was great," she admitted. "I'm so glad I went to that camp for talented students."
I made a face at her words. God, she's actually excited about going to a camp for the summer. How tragic. I didn't comment and we kept walking while she told me about her sad experience. In the classroom, I felt the tension from the moment we walked in. Everybody went quiet, all eyes were on me. Inca and I found our seats at desks next to each other, and while she busied herself with getting the class textbook and notebook ready, I sashayed over to the head cheerleader, Harlem.
"Hey, girl," I purred. "Long time
no see." She gave me a long look, tucking a stray strand of flame-red hair behind her ear but not responding. I hesitated, unsure of why she was giving me the cold shoulder. But I didn't care. She hadn't been crowned homecoming queen, I had. If she thought she was going to rule the school, she was dead-fucking-wrong. This was my domain, not some wannabe's.
"How was your summer?" I asked next.
"Fun," she replied, her eyes glazed over as she sighed and thumbed through her notebook. I saw the butterflies on the cover of her book, drawn all over the pages. She sure fucking switched sides fast. It didn't take a genius to know girls like Harlem were followers, not leaders. The problem was, she'd been following me for three years, and suddenly, it seemed as if her attention had switched. Now it was all about Tinsley. Tinsley, who didn't even go to Wildwood anymore.
With my mouth set in a thin line, I walked away from Harlem's desk and slid into my own seat. The classroom filled up until every seat was taken and the bell rang, signaling the start of the lesson. Here we go again.
Professor Cabot walked in a few minutes after the bell, and we all settled down in our seats. I pulled out my pen and opened my notebook, ready to start with the lesson.
"Right," Cabot groaned. "Let's get started with our syllabus. The first book, which you were assigned to read over the summer break, is Crime and Punishment."
I raised my hand right away, and Cabot sighed, rubbing his temples as he motioned for me to speak.
"I wasn't aware we were supposed to read anything over the summer break," I said, furrowing my brows. "Was this made clear prior to the start of the school year?"
Sighs and whining echoed in the classroom. For the first time ever, I felt disapproving eyes on me, and I had no idea what it was all about.
"Miss Hawthorne," Cabot started. "This is AP English. Is this your first time in an advanced class?"
"No," I hissed, furrowing my brows. "I was just saying-"
"You must have received note from the school," he went on. "There were six books you were supposed to read over summer break."
"Well, I didn't get the note," I crossed my arms defensively. "So, I haven't read anything."
Snickers went through the class as Cabot turned to face me, his handsome face tired. "Well, that's not my problem, Miss Hawthorne. So, I take it you can't answer any of the questions on this pop quiz?"
He held up a piece of paper, and I blanched. "I had no idea there was going to be a pop quiz, either," I complained. "Nobody told me."
"Unfortunately, that's your problem, not mine," Cabot told me coolly. "And you are welcome to complain to the school board, but right now, you need to take this test."
"But I didn't know!" I argued.
"I don't want to listen to your whining," he interrupted, holding a hand up. "Either take this up with the school secretary or get ready to take the test."
"I can't," I got out through gritted teeth.
"You can't take the test?"
"No."
"Then you will get an incomplete on today's assignment."
I glanced around the room, feeling my heart hammer in my chest. "What does that mean?" Once again, everybody snickered. "It's not funny." More laughter followed.
I glanced to Inca, who was looking at me with an apologetic expression, mouthing I thought you knew.
"That means your score for the day is an F, Miss Hawthorne," Cabot explained, making me panic right away. "And it will count toward your GPA at the end of the school year."
"What?" I glared at him. "That's completely, utterly unacceptable."
"Take it up with the secretary, not me," Cabot sighed. "Can we get on now, please?"
"No," I argued. "I need to get to the bottom of this."
More snickers, and then, from behind, I heard Harlem whisper, "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."
I turned around, glaring at her and hissing, "You'd better watch that slutty tongue of yours Harlem, before I rip it out of your throat."
She blanched just as Cabot reached my desk, slamming a book down on it. "Miss Hawthorne! I suggest you go straight to the principal's office. Take my copy of Crime and Punishment, maybe you can actually get started on the work everyone else has done over the summer."
"I'm not going to the principal's office," I said, horrified. "I haven't done anything wrong!"
"Go," Cabot insisted. "And I expected you back tomorrow at this desk, having read the six books on the syllabus. Understood?"
"Hijo de puta," I muttered under my breath.
"Excuse me?"
"Understood, Professor Cabot." I gathered my things to the sound of held-back laughter, feeling the traitorous blush in my cheeks as I grabbed his book off my desk and stormed to the door. He had no right to treat me like this. "I'm going to speak to the principal about the way you treated me today. Just so you know."
He gave me an incredulous look before laughing in my face, making me blush even harder. "Good, you do that, Miss Hawthorne. And I'll have you know I'm different to the type of teacher you're used to, because I'm not going to let any of my students - nor their parents - bully me into doing something I don't think is right. So, good luck with that."
I glared at him before muttering another Spanish insult under my breath and heading for the door. The whole classroom was staring, and I heard Harlem shout out, "Don't forget your crown, homecoming queen!"
Everyone laughed again, and I left the room feeling pissed off as hell. I'd just gotten kicked out of my first class, and I wasn't having any of it. If Cabot and Harlem thought they could treat me this way, they were dead-fucking-wrong. Nobody put Estella Hawthorne in the corner.
I started walking to the secretary's office, passing the admissions assistant's office on my way. Miss James was chatting to a faculty member in front of it, and when she saw me, she called out to me, saying, "Oh, Estella. Could you come in here a second?"
"Me?" I glanced around and she nodded. "Of course, is it important?"
"Yes, she nodded," after saying goodbye to the woman she'd been talking to. "Please, come in. It's to do with Eastvale and your admission."
"Oh," I beamed. "Of course, I'll come right in."
In her office, I set down my bag with textbooks on the floor, nervously crossing and uncrossing my legs while Miss James took her sweet time watering an orchid in the corner of the room. She'd only been around a year, but she'd quickly gotten popular amidst the other students. The guys loved her because she was hot, and the girls appreciated her since she was personable and sweet. I didn't have anything against her. But that was about to change in the next few minutes.
She finished up with the flowers and offered me some water, which I accepted, regretting it once she disappeared to the shared staff room. God, this is taking fucking ages. Can't she just tell me what she called me in for?
"You said this was regarding my admission to Eastvale?" I asked when she got back, putting a bottle of Evian and a glass on the table before me.
She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she sat down in front of me. "As you know," she started, "Eastvale is known to be a very prestigious and exclusive university."
"Of course."
"A lot of schools offer scholarships, but Eastvale is the only one that I know of that is invite-only," she went on. "I know you and another student were invited to apply in the spring."
"Yes," I nodded. "Milo Earnshaw and me."
"Indeed." She blushed, pushing her reading glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. It was annoying how pretty she was. Not fucking fair. "As you know, you and Mr. Earnshaw both turned in early admission. And one of you got in early." I beamed, about to speak up, but she stopped me by holding her palm up. "Now, before I go on, Estella... You know it is extremely rare for Eastvale to accept more than one student from the same school, don't you?"
"I do," I said proudly. "And it will be an honor to represent Wildwood at such a prestigious university."
She gave me a small smile before softly saying, "Milo got in, Estella.
"
"What?"
"Milo Earnshaw," she repeated slowly. "He's been accepted into Eastvale early."
"But..." I struggled to find the right words, my heart and my head pounding in fear. Once my father finds out about this, he's going to fucking kill me. He will never accept that I wasn't good enough, and I'll have to pay for it dearly. "But that just can't be true."
Miss James gave me a sympathetic smile, pushing a box of tissues across her desk toward me. "It's okay to get upset, Estella. But you need to remember this isn't the end of the world. Not everyone gets accepted into the first university they picked. And there are still plenty of schools who would love to have you attend their programs."
"But I don't want any other school," I insisted, hearing how stubborn I sounded but not giving a shit. "How is this even possible? I turned my essay in early. Milo wasn't even done by the deadline!"
"I'm sorry," Miss James said firmly, furrowing her brows at me. "But it was their choice, not mine, and it's already been decided. I'd be happy to advise you on what to do next, Estella. But please don't dismiss your classmate's accomplishments just because you didn't get in."
"I'm not putting him down. I just don't understand." I blinked away the tears struggling to get out. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry.
"You knew there was only room for one person from Wildwood there, right?" Her voice was kind, and I found myself nodding, feeling crushed. "I'm so sorry, truly, Estella. But I think you can still go to an amazing school and get the degree you want. Okay?"
"Okay." My voice was scratchy and barely audible. I felt defeated. Utterly destroyed. "Can I leave now?"
"Of course," she nodded kindly. "Don't worry, Estella, we can still sort this out. Why don't you make an appointment with me via the website for this week? We can go through the other schools, maybe your second and third choice."
"Sure," I managed miserably while I gathered my things and got up. "Miss James?"
"Yes?"
"Does... does Milo know yet?" I asked, feeling the lump in my throat.
She gave me a smile, saying, "He is about to come in so I can tell him."
Boys That Read: A High School Romance (Lords of Wildwood Book 2) Page 3
