Broken Princess (Van der Borne University Book 2)

by Dakota Lee

  Reaching over to grab my bag, I bring our meeting to a close. “Thank you for your time, Dean Allen, and if you can think of anywhere I can help out, or anything…”

  “You know, I might have something. One of our office clerks will be out for a while. We’d need help with filing and copying and whatever else my executive assistant needs done, two or three days a week. If you don’t mind that…”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t mind at all. Thank you.”

  “Okay, see Veronica when you leave and let her know you’ll be helping out. You answer to her, and you’ll have to work around your other obligations. That might mean evenings or weekends.”

  “I understand Dean Allen. Thank you. I won’t let you down.”

  Veronica doesn’t even give me a chance to say I’m the new office help. My guess is she was hovering around the door when the dean hired me. She tells me she’ll need help two days a week and one Saturday a month. I assure her the schedule works fine for me and that my classes and working at the paper won’t get in the way. I jot down my cellphone number so she can contact me and she tells me to expect to start next week. With that she hurries down the hall with a stack of manila envelopes in her arms, muttering they won’t mail themselves.

  The muffled ringtone of my phone beckons me awake, and I slip my hand under my pillow to silence the offending device. I stayed up late last night working on an assignment, and all I want to do is sleep. My hand finally lands on the cool metal case. I stab at the screen and must’ve accidentally hit answer, because my mother’s voice chirps an over enthusiastic good morning to me.

  “Mom. Can I-”

  “You still coming down this weekend?”

  “Yeah. I plan to.”

  “Good, because the storage unit called and wants to know if we’re renewing the rental space.”

  The last of dad’s things went into storage when she married step-dick. As if a few boxes would mess up the decor. We forwarded the items to a new unit when we moved to The Bluffs, because I think none of us really wanted to go through it. But it’s a waste of money, and the house has plenty of space.

  “Okay, if you rent a truck, we can go over there and pick it up.”

  “They’re having a special. They’ll bring it to us, but I figured since you’ll be home we can unpack the pod together.”

  “Fine mom. We’ll do that.” I yawn into the receiver.

  “Oh, honey, did I wake you? You’re usually up by now.”

  “I was up late last night, and they canceled my class for today, so I was sleeping in.”

  “I’ll let you go back to sleep. Call me with your ticket info and I’ll meet you at the bus depot.”

  “Okay, mom. Love you.”

  “Love you, more.”

  We spent the morning moving boxes from the pod and stacking them neatly around the living room and hallway. It wasn’t as many as I thought, but still more than we’ll get through in two days. My muscles are aching as if I just played a game of one on one with Summer. I let the warm water wash all over me, enjoying the steam and smell of mint and eucalyptus coming from the scented shower melt I have in the caddy beside me. Out of consideration for my roommate I don’t hog the shower, so it’s nice to be home and have some extra time to enjoy it.

  My sister’s in the living room unpacking a box when I come downstairs. “Don’t tell me mom abandoned you.”

  “She didn’t. She went to pick up dinner because she said it would be quicker than waiting for delivery.”

  “I didn’t know Saturday nights are popping around here.”

  “You would if you came home more often.”

  “I’m sorry. I know I spent a lot of the summer in the city and winter break with Kassidy.”

  “No, I get it. I’m just the annoying kid sister and you have friends and travel.”

  “Stop. You know, I don’t think of you as just an annoying brat. You’re one of my closest friends.”

  “Doesn’t seem like it anymore.”

  She says it without malice, but I hear the sadness in her voice. Summer’s right, I’m a shitty sister and daughter. “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve been preoccupied with school and…”

  “Boys.”

  When I go to tell her that’s not true, she says, “I know you broke up with Robbie, and Ciara heard that he told someone you were dating some guy at your school, but it didn’t work out.”

  Ciara is Robbie’s sister, and Summer’s best friend. Her brows crease when I confirm what she heard is true. “Ciara is right, I was dating someone at school. It was after Robbie and I broke up, but it didn’t last long. I didn’t mention it to you or mom, because it was nothing.”

  “You were sad when you came home for Christmas. That’s not nothing.”

  “Last semester was tough, and I was feeling overwhelmed at Christmas. New school, new friends. You know how it is, trying to find your place.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “But I’m good now, and…” I point to my face. “No more sad.”

  “If something bad happened at school, you would tell me, right?”

  Yikes. I’ve been keeping mom in the dark, but I didn’t think about the things Summer might have heard through her association with Ciara. Robbie wouldn’t tell his sister all the sordid details, would he? Or is she getting fed information from another source? We’re not zoned to any of the Kingsley Hollow prep schools, but her basketball team plays them, and even the elite teens party outside of their zip codes. “What did-”

  “Girls, I’m back with the food. Can I get a hand?” Mom yells from the door. I make a note to talk to Summer and find out how far the VDU rumor mill goes.

  We dive into the food, working through boxes as we go. I thought most of the stuff was dad’s old work papers, but a lot of the boxes have pictures, drawings and baby clothes from when Summer and I were kids.

  Mom sits back, looking at the pile beside her. “I don’t even remember packing this stuff away.”

  She was probably in too much of a hurry to get us packed when she and step-dick got married. To him, appearance was everything, and there was no way he was letting his bride take her time packing up her memories of another man. Now that I think about it, he sent movers to do that for us. So yeah, I guess we don’t know what the hell is here.

  Summer taps out around eleven. Mom is maybe thirty minutes after that, but I keep working, wanting to see some progress in the pile of boxes in the living room, before the weekend is over. I know whatever we don’t make it through won’t get done anytime soon, because mom and Summer will be too tired or busy.

  I decide to tackle the biggest box next. It’s the one with things from dad’s office. We’ve agreed to only keep pictures and two things from each box that might have sentimental value. It’s up to the person sorting that box to decide what those items are. I stick my headphones in my ears so I won’t disturb mom and Summer with my music and get to work. Ten minutes later I’m sitting in the middle of a mountain of receipts for plant and grass seeds, and some newspaper articles about some of the businesses dad helped find investors for.

  I remember mom used to clip those and sit them next to his morning coffee. He would tease her and say he couldn’t tell if it was helping or hurting his business to have trees cut down to support the printed press.

  On one hand, the missing trees meant more land that could be linked up for environmentally friendly projects. On the other hand, it meant one less beautiful and majestic tree for him to admire somewhere in the world. I’ll never forget the day she told him the newspaper used recycled parchment. The smile on his face and the kiss he gave her made me giggle. I’m blushing now just thinking about it. My parents’ marriage wasn’t perfect, but I never doubted they loved each other.

  I shove the paper in the trash bag on my left and pull another stack out of the box. There’s a discolored photo album on the bottom. I exhale a shaky breath before flipping the cover open. Laughter bubbles out as soon as I see the first picture. It’s of Summer in th
e sink with a duck towel. She’s maybe two months old and dad’s leaning forward holding her. His shirt is drenched because she was already so squiggly at that age. Dad liked to say she was practicing her crossover even then.

  My trip down memory lane will have to wait for later. I set the book aside to continue sorting through the box. After two hours and two more boxes, I’m finally ready to call it a night.

  Tucking the photo album under my arm, I carry the trash bag out of the room, setting it by the garage door, then head to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. I do a last sweep of the house, making sure it’s locked up tight before going to my room.

  Kicking off my shoes as I make my way to the bed. I drop the book on top of my silver and purple bedspread, then disrobe, pulling on the tank and pajama pants I like to sleep in. Now that I’m finished working, my body feels heavy. Going through the photo album will have to wait, because sleep is calling and it’s about to win.

  * * *

  I hear Summer calling my name and try to ignore her. When mom joins in, I groan, tossing the covers over my head.

  “Fine.” I yell in response to mom saying she’s making pancakes. “I’ll be down in a second.”

  Flipping the cover back, I turn when something thumps against the floor. One look at my nightstand calms my fears about having just dropped my phone. It’s not until I scoot across the bed that I remember I fell asleep with the photo album next to me.

  Leaning over the side, I see some pictures have fallen out. I climb out of bed and stoop down to pick them up. Sitting on the edge of the bed with the book open in my lap, I flip through the pages, returning the photos to their rightful places. Mom and dad were sticklers for labeling pictures, so it’s easy for me to figure out where they belong.

  When I get to the last picture, I realize it’s actually a clump of photos stuck together. I separate them and flip through the pages again. There’s only one empty slot left. I guess that’s why they’re all together. Just as I go to slip them underneath the thin plastic film, my eyes fall on the last picture in the group. “Whose house is this?” I say to the empty room.

  I turn the photo over. It doesn’t have any identifying dates or times on it. Mom calls me again and I drop the picture on the bed, rushing to the bathroom to brush my teeth before heading down to breakfast. I grab the picture on my way out of my room. Mom will probably know where this was taken.

  “It’s about time you came down. Summer was about to eat yours.” Mom says slipping another pancake on Summer’s plate.

  “Sorry, I had a long night.” I pour myself some juice, fix a plate, and slide up to the table.

  “I saw you tackled a few more boxes. Thanks, honey. I know this isn’t what you had in mind, when I said we’d have a girls’ weekend.”

  “It’s fine, mom. I’m just glad we all got to hang out, before Summer’s next tournament schedule starts up with her travel league.”

  “I found the white photo album.”

  “Did you? Oh, that’s fantastic.”

  “Yeah, it’s in my room.” I pull the photograph out of my pocket and pass it to her. “All the pictures are still there in good shape, but I don’t remember this one, and it’s not marked.”

  She flips it over in her hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one either.” Studying it, her brows furrow. “You said it was shoved between the pages of the album? It must’ve fallen out of a folder or something.”

  Shaking my head I tell her, “It was in the album, tucked behind a some pictures. You know the ones with swing set hidden in the trees.”

  Mom studies the snapshot again. “You know your father was going through some papers that were in his mother’s attic after she passed. Maybe he found it and meant to put a caption on it and never got around to it.”

  I nod because that makes sense. After breakfast we unpack a few more boxes, then settle in for a marathon of our favorite movies. We spend the rest of the weekend doing our nails and talking about boys. Well, Summer talks about boys, I listen, and mom lectures and fusses. I’ve never seen my sister smile as hard as she’s doing now, because her life is usually all about basketball. It’s nice to see her experience her first real crush. I hope the guy is worth it, and if not, I hope Summer’s heart is strong enough to rebound when it ends.

  The weekend is over way too soon, and I hold onto my mom and sister longer than usual when we hug goodbye. During the bus ride back to school, I can’t stop staring at the picture that fell out of dad's old photo album. For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to stuff it back in the sleeve. I’ve heard the stories about all the places he’s visited as a kid. We used to talk for hours about his memories. But he never mentioned this house in any of them. Why was photo buried in the back of the album behind three other photos that I have seen?

  If you would have asked me before, I would have said I know everything about our family history. Now I’m not so sure. First the scholarship with the mystery relative and now hidden pictures.

  Camelot Court. That’s all that’s written on the back of the photo. I pull out my phone and type those words and the states I know dad has either lived in or visited in the search engine. The results aren’t helpful. The top suggestion is King Arthur’s home. Great. Pinpointing this Camelot’s location is proving to be just as elusive in real life as it is in the stories.

  Eight

  Jordanna

  “Scribbling away in that book again?” Kassidy huffs, plopping down on the opposite end of the couch.

  “It’s my manifesto and it’ll be epic when I’m done writing it.”

  “Manifesto, huh? With pink glitter sparkles on the cover? Sounds real bad ass to me. Seriously though, what are you writing?”

  “Everything. It’s a coping skill I learned in therapy after my dad died. My therapist used to say write it down. Whatever you felt that day. The good, the bad, the ugly. Just write. I’d gotten away from it and found expression in painting again. But now, the paints don’t flow, so I’m back to pen and paper to deal with everything I feel about being back on campus.”

  “Damn. I didn’t realize how tough this was for you. I’ve been so impressed with the way you’ve been walking around campus, like none of it fazes you.”

  “Well, don’t be. It’s a facade. I’m here. Yes. I’m standing. Sure. But I’m taking it day by day and sometimes minute by minute. That’s why you see me with this book all the time. It’s how I’m coping.”

  It’s a version of the truth. I am writing everything down, and I am coping. But only because these words have clues for how to fight back against my tormentors.

  In the margins of the page I’m writing on, I pencil in three goals I hope to accomplish this week.

  * * *

  1. Be intentional about being in a space where Logan and his friends are

  2. Smile and say hello to someone I normally wouldn’t

  3. Make a bold choice

  * * *

  I close the book, sitting it behind me on the couch, and ask Kassidy, “So, what are you up to tonight?”

  When she averts her gaze, I deduce she’s made plans. Ones she doesn’t want to tell me about. “Out with it, Kass.”

  “There’s a party, and I sort of told my friends from my psych class that I’d go.”

  “Okay. But why are you acting so weird about it?”

  “Because even though you went to the back to school bash a few weeks ago, I know parties still aren’t your thing, and I feel bad leaving you alone since we were both out of town last weekend. I feel like I should hang with you.”

  “I know Bella and the bitch mob call me a charity case, but I’m not one. You’re allowed to have friends other than me. I’m not gonna go all Roommate on you.” I say referencing the movie we watched last week.

  “I know, but I still feel like I should hover and protect you.”

  “I can protect myself, and I left my hover-copter mom in The Bluffs with Summer.” I flip on the television, pretending to be focused on fin
ding something to watch. “But if you’re so worried about leaving me alone, I guess I could come with you.”

  “Uh, no. That’s not a good idea. I know for a fact Logan and his crew are hosting tonight.”

  Then this sounds exactly like how I should spend my evening. “Good, then it’s settled. I’m definitely going, because I meant what I said when school started. I’m not letting Logan control my life.”

  “It’s at The Rift, Jordanna.”

  Scrunching my eyebrows, I search my mind for a reference. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”

  “Think about the craziest party we went to last semester, triple it, and add booze and drugs, and that’s the kind of shit that goes down at The Rift.”

  “So an orgy?”

  “I hear if that’s your thing there’s a room where it could be arranged.”

  “It’s not my thing, but I don’t think it’s yours either, which means there’s some middle ground here, right?”

  “Yes. Of course. This is like a grand opening party. It’ll be one of the tamer ones held there this semester, but it’s VDU, so anything goes. You know, be prepared.”

  Tame is not the way I’d describe any of the VDU parties. “Can I pee alone or do I need an armed escort?”

  “Unoccupied bathrooms are safe. If you hear or see someone inside, go the other way.”

  I shrug as if it’s not a big deal. “I think I can handle that.”

  “Oh, shit. Okay, I’m so glad you said that.”

  Her smile widens, the tension easing from her brow. Was she really expecting me to disavow her? “Why were you worried?”

  “Because you’re sweet. Despite what those bitches did to you, you’re still you and I don’t want to corrupt you, or have you look at me differently.”

  “Because you like to go to freaky parties? Kassidy, you’re the only one sticking by me, and I know it’s costing you some friends. I will never turn my back on you because you like excitement.”