Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 52643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“I’m not sure what else I can do with her if this latest punishment doesn’t change things.” He looks at me expectantly, as if I have the answer.
“I got into trouble in high school all the time,” I say. “Not sure what you want me to say.”
“She reminds me of you.”
“I never snuck off campus.”
“You’re right, your behavior was far worse.” He laughs. “What made you change?”
“A teacher noticed I had a slight interest in business, so he took me under his wing and taught me about day trading.” I shrug. “I became obsessed and that was it.”
“So, he was like your mentor?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“Hmmmm. How did he pick up on your interest?”
Okay, that’s it. “I’m going back inside to enjoy my last night of freedom before the semester gets hectic.”
“I wonder how much of your transformation was due to his influence, and how much was your work ethic.”
He’s clearly talking to himself, so I walk away. I don’t even mind putting up with the blatant flirting from the other teachers the rest of the night.
Anything is better than talking about Genevieve Edwards.
11
GENEVIEVE
My back aches as I fill this morning’s mop bucket with water.
Even though I’m still adjusting to my punishment, there are some pros that come with being forced to get up at the crack of dawn to clean.
One, the campus is serene and it offers me a free dose of daily inspiration. Two, I get to flip through the disciplinary files for everyone else to confirm that my problems are far from the worst at this school. Three, it gives me plenty of time to think about all the ways I can take down Professor Fake Quote.
Wiping down the counter in the main office, I shine a light on the surface to make sure it sparkles.
Lindsey Mitchell, a fellow senior, opens the door and drops a folder in the basket.
“Wow, Genevieve.” She clicks her tongue. “I knew you were a kiss-ass but I never would’ve guessed that you would volunteer to help clean this place. Please tell me you’re not that pathetic.”
I bite my lip.
“So, you are that pathetic.” She snorts. “You know, if you weren’t such a suck-up to all the teachers, more people might like you.”
“Speaking of ‘suck-up,’ did you use condoms when you sucked off the crew team this summer, or was it all raw?”
“Who told you that?”
“No one.” I shrug, remembering her file. “But you’re confirming it’s true?”
She rushes out of the office without answering.
After I finish steaming the drapes, my watch beeps with a reminder of our annual expectations ceremony.
Unfortunately, it beeps again with a new email notification from Mr. Peterson.
Subject: URGENT. Open me.
Please don’t be another punishment. Please don’t be another punishment.
Dearest students,
As you know, the past few years have brought along a series of changes at our academy, and this year will be no different.
After tonight’s ‘Expectations Ceremony,’ all seniors will be paired with a year-long mentor who will help you better transition into your post-Exeter journey.
Your assigned mentor will be posted outside the main auditorium. Please check it before receiving your formal ‘semester expectations’ printout.
Sincerely,
Principal Peterson
Grateful for the good news, I rush to change clothes and get to the auditorium. A large crowd is angling for views of the board, so I walk around the building until it thins.
Genevieve Edwards—Mr. Donovan.
I blink a few times to make sure I’m reading those words properly.
“Lucky you,” One of my floor mates says from behind. “I was hoping I’d get him.”
“I thought you hated English with a passion.”
“I do, but I like sexy men, so I’d happily put up with boring ass essays for him.”
“Great. Want to trade?”
“I would, but it’s against the rules.” She points to the bolded print at the bottom of the board.
Assignments are FINAL.
No change requests are allowed.
Groaning, I sign off on my printed packet before heading into the theater.
Mr. Donovan is standing near the stage, shaking hands with a mentee who is clearly flirting with him. From here, he doesn’t look like the evil person he truly is, and as much as I want to deny his attractiveness, the endless stares he’s receiving reveal the truth.
Looking as if he just stepped off the front cover of GQ: The Hot Professor Edition, he’s draped a soft grey sweater over his shoulders. The top button of his silk black shirt is undone, revealing a soft silver chain around his neck.
His matching pants are undoubtedly tailored, and I don’t have to wonder if his shoes are Italian leather.
I wait until he finishes talking to all his fangirls (and fanboys) before approaching.
“How may I help you today, Miss Edwards?” he asks.
“I’ve been assigned to suffer as one of your mentees.” I try not to roll my eyes. “Unfortunately.”
“That would be beyond unfortunate,” he says, “but I believe you’ve misread the board. I have six mentees, and you’re not one of them. Trust me.”