Stuck With The Four Hotties

The end of the year prank that left me reeling, it did not go unnoticed by the staff. As Dad grabs some snacks for the drive back to Burberry Preparatory Academy, I head online and look at all the beginning of the year emails with information about classes, school policies … and bullying.

Burberry Prep is now a zero toleranFe Fampus. Students involved in bullying inFidents will be subjeFt to suspension or expulsion depending on the severity of the offense. RespeFt towards peers and staff is not just enFouraged, it is mandatory. If you have any questions regarding this poliFy, please see Ms. Felton or PrinFipal Collins during their offiFe hours.

My lips feel suddenly dry, so I push my laptop aside and head over to the printer to grab my class schedule. The no electronics rule will go into effect as soon as I set foot on campus. No, before. Actually, the drivers of the academy-issued cars that travel between the visitors’ lot and the school, they’re the ones that take the phones.

“They may as well post my name right there on the front page for everyone to see,” I grumble as I grab the page, give it a quick glance, and pull some lip balm out of the drawer on my side table. My bags are packed, my heart is in my throat, and I’m ready.

I’m ready.

I can do this.

My phone pings, and I turn it over to see a text from Miranda.

Can we talk sometime today?

My palms feel suddenly sweaty, and I tuck my phone into the front of my leather bookbag.

Miranda’s been out of the country most of the summer, but this isn’t the first text I’ve received from her. Actually, she’s sent me several. I’ve replied, but barely. We clearly aren’t friends again yet. I mean, if we ever will be again.

Grabbing my bookbag in one hand and my duffel in the other, I head out the door and pause when a white limo pulls across the gravel in front of our house. Dad is standing there watching like he’s as confused as I am.

The driver parks and climbs out, tipping his hat to me. “Marnye Reed?” “That’s me,” I mumble, thoroughly confused and hoping like crazy that

none of the guys sent this car. If they did, I’m refusing to get in. But of course, what a stupid thought that is. Why on earth would they send a car to get me unless they wanted to crash it into the ocean?Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

“Hey.” Andrew rolls down the window, and my eyes go wide as he waves at me, a half-smile on his face. He looks unsure, as tentative as I feel. “We’re going the same way, so I thought …” The driver moves between us to open the back door, and Andrew climbs out, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. I’m not in my uniform either. Instead, I’ve got on black leggings and a tank top for the drive. I planned on switching clothes in the visitors’ bathroom like I did last year. “I thought you might want a ride.” He tucks his hands into his pockets, the sun catching on his chestnut hair. His blue eyes take in the Train Car, my dad, and me with a flicker of something I can’t quite recognize. Pity? It might be pity.

I sigh.

“Dad, this is Andrew Payson. Andrew, this is Charlie Reed.” The two men shake hands, but I can see from my dad’s face that he isn’t sure about this. “He wasn’t involved in the prank,” I whisper, and both Charlie and Andrew stiffen slightly.

“I see.” Dad studies Andrew carefully, like he isn’t quite sure he believes me. I don’t blame him. There were dozens of boys in academy uniforms brandishing my underwear in the crowd. Andrew just wasn’t one of the many. “You’re offering Marnye a ride?”

“I was on my way through,” he says, glancing from my dad to me. “I know Kathleen Cabot offered to send a car, and you refused, but I thought maybe we could talk?”

My revenge list is burning a hole in my pocket. It still has Andrew’s name on it. There’s a reason for that. I hope it’s the reason he came to talk to me about.

“I was hoping to spend some time with my dad,” I start, but Charlie’s already smiling and waving me away.

“It’s okay, honey, you go with your friend. I was actually concerned that the Ford might not make it there anyway.” He takes one of my bags from the dusty driveway and passes it over to the limo’s driver, pulling the duffel from my hand before giving me a huge hug. “We’ll see each other again soon, I promise,” he tells me, and I know he means Parents’ Week. Mm. Like that wasn’t a disaster last year. I still don’t know what set Charlie off. I’m starting to wonder if I ever will. “I want you to have friends,” he tells me, kissing my cheek and stepping back.

“I love you,” I tell him, and he smiles back at me.

“I love you, too, honey.” And you’re the only person that does, I think, trying not to let that hollow feeling in my chest take over. Since I made the list, I’ve been determined, almost desperate to get back to Burberry Prep and kick some ass. Standing here right now, saying goodbye to my father, it doesn’t feel quite so simple as that.

With one last wave, I head over to the limo and slide into the cool, air conditioned back. The seats are sumptuous brown leather, and there’s a TV, a mini-fridge, and some bedding stuffed in the corner. Andrew lets me have the larger bench seat, the one that’s perpendicular to his.

The driver shuts the door, and we start off, making a slow circle of the Cruz Bay Trailer Park before we’re back on the main street again. Andrew is the first one to break the silence.

“I would’ve texted you sooner, but my parents put me on a full summer ban from texting, phone calls, and social media.” He pauses and sighs, looking toward the tinted back window. “They found out about …” There’s a long pause, but Andrew doesn’t need to fill in the words. I know what he’s going to say. “They know I was dating a guy.”