The Destruction of Rose: A High School Bully Romance (Albany Nightingale Duet Book 1)

by Rachel M Raithby

  No, he’s so much more.

  “They will think they have beaten you, Rose, and I would let them. Let them think they crushed you; it will make them sloppy. It is not going to be easy, darling, but you will find a way.”

  “I’m not so sure, Mother.”

  She pats me on the hand. “You do not need to be sure, Rose. What matters is what others see, and you are already an expert at wearing a mask. Play the game, Rose. It is the only way you will win.”

  Leaving home, my mother’s words haunt me, her advice ringing in my ears. Everything she said was right, except… expert or not, I’m not sure I want to wear a mask anymore. It’s too heavy and I’m tired. I’m tired of this game. I’m tired of this life. The crown’s not even upon my head, and I’m ready to rip it off.

  Chapter 16

  I don’t get to experience being the center of gossip long because Mrs. Chandler calls me into her office the second I step onto school grounds. I almost trip when I find Sophia, Grayson, and Ashton waiting in her office as I enter. Sophia glares at me, Grayson smirks, and Ash keeps his head down. I’m pleased he does because I’m not sure I’m ready to see what he hides in his eyes.

  “Miss Devenport, take a seat.” The second I do, the printed posters about me and my father are slammed down on the desk between us. “Would any of you care to explain these?”

  I look everywhere but at the other people in the room. I was ready to face the elite but not the wrath of Mrs. Chandler. The silence is deafening, and I have no idea what to say.

  “No? Not one of you knows anything about this?” Mrs. Chandler demands. “Rose? What about you? I presume it wasn’t your idea to plaster your family’s affairs all over school property?”

  “No, miss, it wasn’t.”

  “So, who did?” She gazes at each of us. But I know better than to call them out on their crimes. “There have been several reports of Rose and Sophia fighting yesterday. I am not stupid. I know how this school operates. This ends here, today. We are a school that prides itself on exclusivity and academic standards, not gossip and scandal. Whatever the four of you have against each other will not spill over into these halls. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Chandler,” we all chime together.

  “Good. Now get to class.”

  I stand hastily, wanting to escape the room before Sophia and Grayson.

  “Oh, Rose, Sophia, I almost forgot to say… I do hope this little misunderstanding isn’t going to get in the way of your ability to plan the fall gala?”

  Glancing back, I find Sophia’s pale skin a shade of pink, her fists clenched. “She’s still on the event committee?”

  “Why wouldn’t she be? Violet Devenport has graciously offered her expertise free of charge. I expect this year’s event to be our best yet. Understand, Sophia?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  I almost laugh. Sophia might sound sincere, but her body is rigid with rage. It helps lessen the blow from yesterday; satisfaction is always a good motivator.

  When it appears nothing more is going to be said, I rush for the door, striding ahead to put some distance between us.

  “Where’s the fire, Keeley?” Grayson calls, his laughter following me.

  “Leave it, will you, Gray?” Ash hisses.

  I can’t make out their conversation after that, only Sophia’s growl of frustration and the lower timbre of Grayson’s comeback. I can imagine though, Ash is probably regretting ever speaking, but he did, and it affects me far more than I’d like it too.

  I am the master of my emotions, I remind myself, even as my stupid heart flutters hopefully, dreaming of an Ash I can never have.

  ***

  Despite Mrs. Chandler’s warning, several posters find their way to me. One is slapped across my back as a student runs by, another posted into my locker, and finally, someone took great effort to glue the entire surface of my English desk with cut-out images of my mug shot. The students of Albany Nightingale have even nicknamed me Devenfraud, but none of it hurts as much as walking through these school halls and having Ash ignore me. I knew this would happen. I knew, and yet it hurts all the same. My heart kicks up speed whenever he’s nearby, the memory of his gentle touch an echo over my skin.

  At lunch, I watch him with Sophia, analyze his smile and laughter. Is it fake? Does he put on a show every day for these people, or was the show for me? I hold on to the Ash I have in my head, remember the emotions that burned between us, but with every passing hour, my memories become further away. Doubt creeps in, shattering the perfect picture I keep in my mind.

  “You haven’t taken your eyes off him since the start of lunch,” Isla points out.

  Looking up, I find her studying me. I shrug. “He’s good to look at.”

  She smirks. “It’s more than that. I’m not blind, and neither is the half of the school who saw him carry you out of here. You should have seen Sophia’s face; I think she was angrier at him than you.”

  I don’t answer. I’ve nothing to say that won’t get Ash or me in trouble, and I already have enough of to deal with at the moment. Not that it stops Isla from asking.

  “Where did he take you? He took you somewhere, right? Because he was missing from school all day and I overheard Sophia bitching he wasn’t answering her calls.”

  “He just took me for a walk to cool off, then I went home.”

  “Then why are you looking at him like that?”

  “I’m not looking at him like anything,” I argue.

  “Fine, don’t tell me, but you could, you know… tell me. We’re friends.”

  Sighing, I soften my tone. I’ve one friend in this entire school; I can’t afford to lose her. “Yes, we’re friends, and it’s complicated. Ash and I… we knew each other when we lived in different worlds.”

  “So you did know him then? Why’d he lie on your first day?”

  “Like I said, it’s complicated, and if it’s all right with you, I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “I get it. Must be horrible watching him with her.”

  More than you can ever know. On the outside, though, I fake a smile and flick my hair, sliding my queenly mask into place. “Enough about him anyway. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

  She giggles. “Crispy fried Sophia. What’s the plan?”

  “I’m still working on it, but until then, I plan to take over her precious gala design. You’re coming to the committee meeting after school, right? My mother’s coming to see the space.”

  Shaking her head, Isla smiles. “I seriously expected you to be on the next plane out of here. I don’t think anyone has ever dared challenge Sophia before.”

  The evil bitch in me surfaces. “You’ve seen nothing yet.”

  ***

  “Isla, this is my mother, Violet. Mother, this is Isla, my friend.”

  My mother smiles wide. “Lovely to meet you, Isla.”

  “You too,” Isla replies just as Sophia marches into the hall, her heels clicking on the wooden floor.

  “The queen bitch has arrived,” my mother mutters as we turn to face Sophia.

  Isla covers her laugh with a cough as I struggle to contain my own. Sometimes my mum is awesome.

  “The one and only,” I whisper.

  “Mrs. Devenport, I’m Sophia Kincaid, head of the event committee,” Sophia declares, her tone overly polite.

  “Sophia, I’ve heard so much about you,” my mother replies curtly. “All good things of course.”

  Sophia’s gaze travels to me, lingers before returning to my mother. “I’ve brought a few design ideas for you to see,” she continues. “I was thinking we could have the dance floor here an—”

  My mother cuts her off. “I’ve actually put together some layouts already. I remember this place from when I went here. It’s all still so fresh in my mind. Isla, be a dear and fetch me those designs I left by the door.”

  Isla scurries off as my brain struggles to keep up. I had no idea she’d already made plans. As far as I knew
, she was coming here to see the space before designing something. She meets my gaze, a silent understanding passing between us. It’s always handy to have soldiers when going to war, and my mother’s been in this game longer than I’ve been alive.

  “I do hope you like them, Sophia. Rose told me all about your vision,” Mum continues, fake smile in place.

  Again, I haven’t told my mother anything, but I go along with it, gleefully watching Sophia squirm. Any moment, steam might appear from her ears.

  “Has she now?” Sophia grinds out.

  What my mother shows us isn’t anything like the purple and white frothy lace theme Sophia had in mind. But she holds her tongue as my mother explains all she has planned. There was nothing wrong with Sophia’s plan; maybe just a bit too much princess-themed wedding, but I much prefer my mother’s regal design. And the others on the committee do too. By the end of the meeting, my mother has them all eating out the palm of her hand, and I watch on in awe, wishing I was half as good as her. If I was, Sophia would already be yesterday’s news.

  “A heads-up next time would be nice,” I mutter to my mother as we leave after the meeting.

  She laughs. “I do miss high school, Rose. There is nothing more fun than winding up a girl with a smile on your face.”

  “You’re scary, you know. But it was awesome. I needed to see her put back in her place after today.”

  “How was your day?”

  I shrug. “Okay, I guess. Could have been worse. Mrs. Chandler dragged us all in her office this morning about the posters plastered over the walls and my little outburst.”

  “Hmm, I would have rather her not know. It was inevitable, I suppose.” We climb into the black sedan waiting outside the school for us.

  “I can’t wait to get home. All I want is a hot bath and some sleep.”

  “Unfortunately, darling, the bath is going to have to wait. Your grandfather has requested our presence. Oh, and your father has been calling you all day too.”

  I grit my teeth. “I haven’t forgiven him for lying. He tried to twist this around on you.”

  Reaching for my hand, my mother meets my eyes, and I know the next words out of her mouth are going to hurt. This isn’t my usual mother; she doesn’t hold my hand and look at me sadly. “Whatever has happened in the past is done with. Your father and I are both to blame for many things. Besides, I’m fed up with him calling, and his sentencing is tomorrow, Rose. You might not get a chance again, and as much as I’d rather you not speak to him, I don’t want you blaming me for not being able to say goodbye.”

  “Tomorrow?” I gasp. “But he said he has a few weeks.”

  “Sometimes things get brought forward, or deals are made. He’s pleading guilty. His lawyers think he will have a better chance at a lesser sentence that way.”

  I drag in a shaky breath. With everything that has happened, I’d almost forgotten about the ticking clock in the back of my head. “It doesn’t seem real. Sometimes I half expect to find him at home after school or sat sipping a coffee in the morning.”

  “It will get easier,” she reassures. But somehow, I don’t think it will, and I’m not sure I want it to. He’s my father; I shouldn’t get used to not having him around. It shouldn’t be normal. It shouldn’t be easy.

  It’s going to hurt, and I’m going to let it. No matter what he’s done, he deserves to have at least one person missing him.

  When we arrive home, I take a quick shower and dress for dinner with my grandparents before opening my laptop and calling my father for the last time in I don’t know how long. My throat’s thick before he even picks up. Just the thought of not having him at the end of the phone is killing me.

  “Rose,” he breathes, his expression the saddest I’ve ever seen. It’s a terrible thing to see a person you’ve always imagined as invincible, crushed. There’s a sorrow in his eyes that ages him, and the smile he’s put on is shrouded in pain.

  I just want to reach through the screen and hug him.

  “Dad, how are you?”

  “Ah, I’m all right, sweetie. Hanging in there.”

  “What do your solicitors say?”

  “Let’s not talk about it, Rose. What’s done is done, and I am facing the consequences of my actions. My lawyers have been instructed to inform your mother of the outcome. Now tell me about you. How’s New York?”

  I roll my eyes. “Where to start? This isn’t a happy story, Dad.”

  His face falls. “It hasn’t been an easy move then? I was really hoping it would be. I know you loved it there after the summer as a kid.”

  “Yeah, well, it was less the city and more the person I shared my time with.”

  He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I remember you had a crush on a boy.”

  I giggle. My father has a way of making me feel like a little girl again. “Unfortunately, he lives on the Upper East Side now, across enemy lines.”

  “That can’t be easy. Have you made any friends?”

  “Yes, one. Her name is Isla. She’s nice. I’m on the events committee. I roped Mum into helping for free.” We both laugh. “There’s this girl, Sophia. She’s queen bee and hates me. I might have thrown yogurt all over her in retaliation for pushing me over. Then she plastered news articles about you all over the walls.”

  “Oh dear. Maybe it’s best you don’t go to war, Rose. Wearing a crown isn’t all it’s made up to be.”

  Don’t I know it. “I guess you’re right, Dad, but if I don’t fight back, she’s just going to keep at me until I break. It’s how it works.”

  “How are classes?”

  “They’re okay. We’re more or less covering what I started at St. Paul’s, which makes it easy. Art’s great.”

  “You’re a smart girl. You are going to do great things.”

  “Things you aren’t going to be able to see,” I mumble sadly.

  “You can write and send pictures. I’ll be cheering you on, Rose, always. Just because I’m not there doesn’t mean I don’t care or love you, okay. I need you to remember that. I’ve been stupid. I’ve made mistakes, and I’m sorry you’re suffering for it.”

  “So you’re not going to blame everything on Mum then?” I raise a brow as I glare. “Because that’s what you did last time.”

  “I’m sorry, okay. I know I implied that. It’s hard to admit what I’ve done to my daughter.”

  “I still love you, Dad, but don’t lie to me, okay.” My eyes sting as I fight the urge to cry.

  “I love you too, sweetheart. Always.”

  “I’ve got to go have dinner with the grandparents soon.” I sigh. I don’t have the energy to put on a happy face when it seems I’m the only one who cares about my father’s sentencing.

  “How are the king and queen?” He smirks.

  “I imagine as they have always been, but since I don’t know them, I can’t be certain. Grandmother seems oblivious to the undercurrents between us all, or maybe her poker face is just that good.”

  “Don’t doubt her ability to act dumb; there’s no sharper cookie. She certainly made sure I knew what she thought of me. All with a smile on her face of course.”

  “Of course.” I laugh. “It would be improper to allow our true emotions to show.”

  He becomes stern all of a sudden, an urgency lighting his eyes. “Don’t become one of them, Rose. Don’t let the Upper East Side dim the fire in you. I couldn’t bear it if I got out to find my daughter the plastic queen of socialites.”

  “You were happy for me to rule St. Paul’s Grammar. In fact, you encouraged it,” I note. It’s not fair for him to have pushed me down a road and now decide I need to turn back.

  “I know, but, Rose, if this entire mess has taught me anything, it’s that world isn’t worth the sacrifice. It takes something away from you, and before you’ve even realized it, you’re crossing lines just to keep up.”

  “I’m not you,” I reply quietly. I would never cross the lines he has.

  “No. You are so m
uch better than me, and I’m so proud of you.”

  My mother knocks on my door, her head appearing in the doorway. “We must go, darling. Grandfather won’t be happy if we are late.”

  “Heaven forbid we upset the king,” I mutter. “Go. I’ll come when I’m finished.”

  “It’s all right, Rose,” my father murmurs. “I have things I need to finalize anyway.”

  “But this is the last time we’ll have the chance to talk.” My heart lurches painfully. “I don’t know how to say goodbye, Dad.”

  Breathing becomes hard as the pain in my heart spreads and constricts my lungs. I take in his face, wondering how many more lines will mark his skin when I next see him. Will his hair be fully gray? Will he look at all like the man I know?

  “It’s not goodbye for good, Rose. I will see you again. I promise.”

  “You don’t know that, Dad.”

  “I do. It could be five years or ten, but no matter what, the first thing I am doing is getting in touch with you. Okay?”

  “Okay.” I sob as my vision blurs. “I miss you, Dad, and I’m going to keep missing you,” I say through the emotions closing my throat.

  “No more crying, Rose. Go live your life. Be happy.”

  “I’ll try,” I whisper, nodding as I wipe my eyes.

  “Goodbye, my sweet girl. I love you.” His hand comes to his lips, pressing a kiss on his fingers before he touches the screen. “Always.”

  “I love you, too.” Tears roll down my face, thick and fast. “Goodbye,” I whisper as the screen goes blank.

  I don’t recognize the sound leaving me. It’s raw and primal—a wounded creature screaming out their pain. I don’t realize I’ve slid to the floor until my mother pulls me into her arms, rocking me as she did when I was a little child. I can’t stop the tears falling from my eyes; there is so much emotion inside me it feels as if my skin might burst. I hurt everywhere. I can’t breathe. Every time I think I’ve reached as low as I can go, the floor under me crumbles away, leaving me falling into a new level of despair.

  “It’s okay, Rose. It’s going to be okay,” my mother murmurs, rocking me softly. “Shush, baby, shush.”