by C. R. Jane
I jerk my head up, gritting my teeth, meeting her wry smirk. She glares down at me over the booth wall between us.
Breathing through my nostrils loudly, I grip my phone, refusing to engage, to give them fuel, to do anything with them.
Talia’s head pops up alongside Alexia, her tight short curls bouncing around her head, making her look like a doll with a head too big for her body.
“What are you typing?” she asks.
“Shopping list,” I lie and lower my head, unwilling to meet their eyes. Maybe they’ll leave me alone. I tuck my phone into my pocket, already shuffling out of the booth in the opposite direction.
Alexia climbs to her feet and rounds my booth, standing there with her hands on her hips, staring at me. She hates me. Detests me. It’s on her face. And I know why… three months ago one of her exes was stupid enough to ask me to the school dance. I put it down to him mocking me, and I turned him down. But that gave her enough ammunition to make me her enemy for life.
“He never liked you,” she snarls, her upper lip curling. Her words are wicked and vicious.
“Told you before. He’s not my type.”
I stand from the booth and start toward the exit, ready to escape. It’s what I’m good at, running, just like my failed robbery at the 7-11. The thought sinks through me, dampening my spirits even more. I brush my hands down my coat.
“What the hell are you wearing?” she curses at me, eyeing me up and down, scrunching her perfectly sculpted eyebrows as if my outfit offends her.
I lower my gaze and take a wide berth around her, but she snatches my arm, squeezing, her bony fingers feel like an iron grip.
“No one would ever be interested in a loser like you.” Her fingernails press into the fabric, into my flesh, but I don’t show the pain. I bite my lip so I can’t make a sound.
I’ve mastered masking agony from when I keep Mom company as she cries, when I sit by Dad’s bed when he’s too tired to speak, when Alexia and the other girls attack me for no reason other than I exist. But after my day today, a fiery rage surges through me, and I find my voice.
Meeting her gaze, I spit the words and wrench my arm free, “Haven’t you grown tired of this game yet? It’s starting to bore me.”
“Oh, so ghost girl has a backbone,” Talia laughs the words, drawing attention from a few bystanders in the café.
Alexia takes another step closer, her face reddening.
I stand my ground, no matter how much my mind screams to turn and run. To leave because nothing good can come of this. My time is better spent elsewhere, and Mom is waiting for me. Dad isn’t well.
Everyone’s silent. I turn away when she grabs my hair and yanks me backward. Ow! I wince and reach for my head while others in the store gasp.
Someone is marching toward us.
Alexia is in my ear. “Do you think someone like you can threaten me?” She shoves her hand in to my shoulder, and I stumble, rubbing the soreness spreading across my scalp, my heart racing. I’m pretty sure she pulled out a chunk of my hair.
The store manager is there all of a sudden, shoulders squared, towering over us. “Take it outside before I call the police.”
I glare at Alexia, my cheeks on fire, tears in my eyes, and I fist my hands.
Nico, the owner appears next, stepping in front of me. “Go home, Adeline.” He knows me, knows my parents, knows we’re struggling. And I hate that because I don’t want pity now or ever.
“I’ll see you at school,” Alexia snarls before whirling around and rejoining her friends.
So many eyes are on me, and I feel the weight of their stares pinning me down. Their stares mix with the feeling of failure, the feeling of dread that is always with me.
I turn around and run out of the store. Only the sound of laughter follows me.
Chapter 2
“Mom, I’m home.” I wipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand, hating my shitty day but not wanting to worry her. I shut the front door behind me. The aroma of some kind of pasta dish fills the air, and my stomach grumbles. I toe off my boots near the shoe stand and head upstairs, the steps creaking under me. The last house we lived in was newer but also smaller. This one has character my parents say, from the dark wooden beams overhead, the ancient mullioned windows, to the black and white tiled kitchen floor, plus our fridge hums loudly which is a good omen Dad insists. I pretend not to know it makes that sound because we can’t afford a new one.
I rush to my bedroom, pull the water gun from my coat’s pocket, and tuck it under the mattress. It’ll come in handy when I try again as I have no plans to give up finding a way to help my dad. Staring down at my unmade bed, I consider crawling under the covers and hiding there for the rest of the week. The idea of returning to school sickens me after today’s encounter.
I head into the bathroom and splash water on my face, then wipe it clean with a towel before glancing in the mirror. Redness rims my blue eyes but when I force a smile it looks less like I’ve cried. I run my fingers through my tangled blonde hair, the ends falling in locks over my shoulders. With my rosy cheeks and ghostly white skin, I’m not half bad looking, but I’m not stunning like Alexia. I sigh. Who am I kidding…? I’m invisible and no one will ever see anything but the ghost girl everyone either ignores or bullies.
The floorboard groans behind me.
I turn to find Mom in the doorway, leaning a shoulder into the frame, still wearing her nurse’s uniform. Shadows gather under her eyes, but she’s smiling for a change. Something I haven’t seen her do in so long, and I smile too. It’s automatic, her emotions have been in sync with mine ever since Dad fell sick.
“Honey, come join us downstairs.” She stretches out her hand to me, and I shrug off the coat before hanging it on the back of the door.
Taking her hand, we head downstairs. “What’s going on?”
“You’ll see.” There’s a smile in her voice. For the few moments it takes for us to get downstairs, I let myself believe Dad has somehow been cured, that he doesn’t have prostate cancer and no longer needs chemo. I’ll give up everything to have those days back where Mom and Dad laugh, make dinner together, sneak kisses when they think I’m not looking. Times when we go on vacations together. Now, all we have is the silent misery of our collective emotions and this sickness looming over us like a permanent storm cloud darkening our days.
I can’t think like that Mom says. So, I try not to. I hold onto the promise in her smile and skip downstairs, hoping there’s going to be some good news today. In the kitchen, Dad’s sitting at the table, holding a hot cup of coffee in both hands, and wearing a faded shirt and a pair of pajama pants. I haven’t seen my once well-dressed father in anything but pajamas in six months. He looks so pale, but for once his eyes are bright, almost hopeful.
My body feels lighter at seeing him out of bed.
“You’re looking good, Dad,” I tell him and kiss him on the cheek before taking a nearby seat.
He’s grinning, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen him this happy.
“What’s going on?” I mumble again, a fluttery feeling filling up my insides.
Mom places a cup of her world-famous hot chocolate in front of me with an extra helping of chocolate whipped cream and two marshmallows. Okay, it seems that this has become a super special occasion, and I hurriedly take a sip before licking the cream off my upper lip.
I push a marshmallow into the hot chocolate with my finger, staring at my parents who simply study me.
“You’ve got an offer,” Dad says.
“Offer? You make it sound like someone is going to buy me.” I burst out laughing, but Mom and Dad don’t join me. They keep grinning, and unease settles in my gut because my parents wouldn’t sell me, would they? What am I saying, this isn’t the dark ages.
“Don’t forget, we’ll always love you and only want what’s best for you,” Mom says.
My gaze jumps from Mom to Dad and back again. “
You’re scaring me.”
“You received an offer of acceptance to an elite boarding school today. All expenses paid.” Dad fiddles with his pocket, taking something out, but his words are tearing through me like barbed wire.
“What are you talking about?”
“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity,” Mom says.
My head is spinning, unsure of what’s going on. Dad unfolds a piece of paper and slides it over to me.
I take the letter and read the crisp black font printed on expensive, thick paper, staring at the golden school crest at the top of the page. I can’t seem to get past the opening line. I keep reading it over and over.
Adeline Jones, you have been accepted into Raven Academy.
When I finally find my voice, I scrunch up the piece of paper into a ball, much to my mom’s horrified gasp.
“Are you kidding? This is a scam.” Or someone else’s mail was delivered to our home, and as usual my parents jumped the gun without reading things properly.
Except, it does say my name...
Adeline Jones.
I have yet to meet another person with the same name, and all I can think about is the fact that Alexia and her gang were talking about Raven Academy just an hour ago and then I suddenly receive this letter. Yeah, coincidence much? Anger fills me at the thought of them not being able to leave me alone for even a moment.
“Someone set me up.”
And I bet I knew who.
Picking up my cup, I indulge in the cup of hot chocolate, trying to still my pounding heart because for those few seconds, I thought this might be true.
Mom and Dad keep staring at me, their gazes serious, their mouths pulling into grins, and I know that look. They think the letter is real.
Dad takes the balled-up letter and unfolds it, running his hand over the surface to flatten it and remove the wrinkles like it’s something precious.
Mom stretches her arm across the table and cups her hand over mine, her touch is warm and soft. “Honey, your letter was personally delivered by the school principal, Mr. Asher.” She stands and walks to the kitchen counter before returning with a small folder with the same Academy emblem on the front, only this one is a shiny silver color.
I can’t move. This can’t be real.
Mom places it in front of me and opens the folder.
My gaze falls on the business card on the inside cover for a Mr. Benjamin Asher. My breaths rush in and out of my lungs, and I look up at my parents.
“I didn’t apply for any school. And we couldn’t possibly afford to have me go to a place like this. We have Dad’s treatment to save up for.”
“You’ve been given a special grant. After your dad got sick, I applied for government assistance,” Mom says, but my head is whirling because this is happening too fast. Before today I didn’t even know this school existed.
“Mr. Asher explained the Academy often take in students on this assistance plan, all costs covered. They received your credentials from your school and are very impressed with you. The board of the school is so impressed that they sent Mr. Asher to hand deliver the letter, hoping he could meet you and personally welcome you.”
I struggle to catch my breath now, and I put down the hot chocolate with shaky hands. “I’m attending a public school now, and there are hardly any costs. I’m happy to stay where I am.”
“Sweetie,” Dad says. “You can get a better education at this Academy, better teachers, better prospects for your future. Raven Academy’s Ivy League acceptance rate is the best in the country. This town won’t help you get far. This is the only way we can give you the best start to your life.”
I’m shaking and I push away from the table, the feet of my chair scraping against the kitchen tiles with an annoying squeal. My mouth is dry, and I climb to my feet. “I’m not going to this Academy. I won’t stay in a boarding school. I want to be here with you. I need to be here to help out.” I stare at Dad, my eyes tearing up, pleading with him...my throat thickens.
He gets up and comes to my side, standing over me, and drags me into his arms. The emotions from the day crash through me, rattling me, reminding me my dad needs help, not me. Tears fall and I cry, unable to stop. I can’t recall the last time I wept in his arms… maybe when I was eight or nine?
He strokes my hair and hushes me. Mom’s standing behind me now, me between them like we used to do when I was younger.
I finally quiet down and look up at Dad. “I can’t go. I have to be here for you.”
He kisses the top of my head, smiling with a proud but sad look on his face. Mom is by his side now, both of them exchanging glances before meeting my teary one.
“Honey,” she says. “Mr. Asher is covering all the costs of your Dad’s treatment if you will attend the Academy.”
My mouth drops open, and I stumble out of their arms. I don’t need to ask the words; they’re painted on my parents’ faces. If I don’t accept the invitation, we won’t get help for Dad. And this is exactly what we desperately need… money for his illness. Hell, I was ready to rob a 7-11. I should be ecstatic, yet for some reason I’m drowning in fear, a sense of dread settling over my shoulders.
I can’t stop the terrible thought that my parents are indeed selling me for payment.
Chapter 3
I fumble in the front seat of Dad’s sedan, the car groaning and squeaking each time we run over a pothole in the road. I’ve always hated this car, hated being taken to school in it, hated the laughs from the other students. But today, I don’t care. It’s the least of my problems since I’m leaving home and my family. All of my earthly belongings are in a large suitcase in the trunk, and I’m moving into a freaking boarding school.
Sickness rises through me again, as it’s done for most of the past two days. This is too fast. One moment I’m at home reading the letter from Mr. Asher, and the next, I’m starting school immediately.
I tried to convince my parents that I should wait and start next semester. After all, it seemed like a compelling argument that it didn’t make sense to start after classes at Raven Academy had already started. I’m sure I was going to be way behind.
But my parents wouldn’t hear of it. They wanted me to commence as soon as possible, and they wanted my dad to start his treatment as soon as possible...which I wasn’t going to argue with.
The drive seems endless. The school had included a flight as part of my scholarship, but my dad had thought that the ten-hour drive would be a fun bonding experience for us. As we drive farther and farther into the middle of nowhere, all I can hope for is that the car won’t break down and leave us stranded out here. I was sure this was where serial killers hung out.
The forest is so thick that you can’t see past the first line of trees. We’re on a two-lane road, and I’m beginning to think we are lost. I haven’t seen any kind of store or building in two hours. There is no way that a school is out here.
Just as I have that thought, we pass a side road. Dad screeches to a halt, and I fly forward in my seat, the seatbelt locking up from the force.
“Oops. Almost missed it,” he says, as if he hadn’t almost thrown us both through the window.
We back up slowly, which is a sign of how out in the middle of nowhere we are that we don’t have to worry about other cars.
A shiver of unease passes over me as we start to drive down the long narrow side road. It’s still light out, but you wouldn’t be able to tell that since the trees do a great job of keeping all the light out.
After a twenty-minute drive, we reach a set of gates that look straight out of a haunted story. They’re tall and menacing and have seen better days based on the amount of rust all over them. I lean forward in my seat. There’s a raven in the middle of the gate that I recognize as being part of the Raven Academy crest. There’s currently a scarf in my suitcase with that exact logo on it. My mother sewed it for me as a parting gift.
We wait for the gates to open, but they don’t move. Dad rolls down his window to see
if there’s some kind of intercom we are supposed to speak through.
“Huh,” he says when there’s nothing out there. All of a sudden, a dark figure steps in front of Dad’s window and I give a little scream. Dad jumps in his seat too, but I guess he thought my scream was too much based on the “be chill” look he throws at me.
The dark figure is actually an old man that’s dressed in an ancient, black suit that has seen better days.
“State your business,” he says in a lofty tone that seems to insinuate that we don’t belong here.
I agree with him.
“I’m just dropping my daughter off at Raven Academy,” my dad says in his most friendly voice. I can see a drop of sweat beading on his forehead though despite the cool weather outside. This man makes him nervous.
“Adeline Jones, I presume?” he says, peering inside the car with distaste. I’m sure that beat up sedans don’t usually find their way to this entrance.
The look changes when he sees me, however. His eyes light up and a look that almost resembles excitement flashes across his face.
“Ms. Jones, we’ve been expecting you,” he says. There’s something about the way he says it that gives me the creeps.
I nod politely. My dad clears his throat, urging me to say something more brilliant apparently. All I can muster is a “happy to be here.”
That seems to be good enough for the creepy gatekeeper. He nods and steps away from the car. “Are Ms. Jones’ bags in the trunk?” he asks.
“I can just get them out when we get up to the school,” my dad says.
“I’m afraid that we do not allow parents beyond the gates. School administrators have found that it’s much healthier for the students to make the journey to the school by themselves signaling the start of their new lives.”
My stomach starts to hurt. I was expecting a few more minutes before I had to part ways from my dad, maybe even an hour if he explored the new school with me. This was too sudden. I start to panic.