Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“This coming weekend is the annual senior camping trip,” Mrs. Baxter says in a chirpy, grandmotherly voice. “This is a chance for all you seniors to prove just how mature you’ve become and to bond with your fellow classmates.”
A loud cheer goes up in the room, followed by lots of hooting and hollering. Exuberant voices can be heard echoing down the hallway.
The senior camping trip is a three-day excursion to Lake Michigan. There are about a dozen families who own vacation homes along the sandy shores, Kingsley and Jasper being two of them. Students get divided up between the available locations. And a few brave classmates who enjoy the wilderness pitch tents at a nearby recreational area on the beach and rough it. It’s supposed to be a bonding opportunity as well as a reward for making it to senior year.
Was it really only last week that I was looking forward to spending time with Austin?
After everything that’s happened, there’s no way I’m going. Jasper will continue to hunt me, making my life hell. A chill scuddles down my spine at the idea of being at my ex’s mercy for the three-day trip without an adult in sight. Mom already threatened to take it away. I’ll have to make sure she pulls the plug altogether.
It shouldn’t be difficult.
I’d much rather spend the weekend hibernating in my room and licking my wounds in private. If I’m lucky, someone else—or a bunch of someone elses—will blow their lives up, and this photo fiasco will die a quick death.
One can hope, right?
Just as the announcements end, Mrs. Baxter says, “Delilah Robinson, please come to the office.”
The muscles in my belly contract as snickers explode from the students seated all around me.
When I remain frozen in place, Coach Baker raises his brow and jerks his head toward the door. “Get moving, Ms. Robinson.”
“Maybe Pembroke is looking for a little of what you gave Jasper Friday night,” Aiden Wendt says in an obnoxious voice, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Those knees are gonna get chafed from all the time spent on them.”
Heat slams into my cheeks as I gather up my books with shaking hands and hug them close to my chest. A few more comments are shouted as I rush from the classroom. Even though their laughter and childishness shouldn’t bother me, tears sting the backs of my eyes. I have to blink to prevent the wetness from splashing onto my cheeks.
My brain whirls, wondering why I’m being summoned. I’ve done my best to avoid our headmaster since I threatened to expose his affair with my mother. Whenever he catches sight of me in the hallway, his eyes narrow and he glares.
It’s enough to have me shrinking away.
The soles of my shoes echo against the polished marble tile that stretches throughout the hallways as I reach the office and push through the door. Mrs. Baxter glances at me from her desk. The slight smile that lifts the corners of her lips doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she holds my gaze for a moment or two before dropping it.
“Go right in, Delilah. Mr. Pembroke is waiting for you.”
The pit that has taken up residence at the bottom of my belly swells in size. Mrs. Baxter is usually so cheery and outgoing, always willing to engage in a little banter.
That’s not the case today.
Barely could she meet my eyes.
“Thank you.”
As tempting as it is to flee the space, I force my feet into movement. The sooner I talk with Pembroke, the quicker I can get out of here. Once I reach his closed office door, I glance over my shoulder at the older woman. There’s a pinch to her brows as her gaze remains focused on the computer screen. I release a steady breath before lifting my hand and rapping my knuckles against the thick wood.
“Come in,” the headmaster barks from the other side.
Another burst of nerves dances down the length of my spine as I turn the handle and push open the door, peeking my head inside the inner sanctum.
“Hi, Mr.—”
My voice falls away as I meet my mother’s eyes. She’s standing near Pembroke with her arms crossed tightly against her chest. Her eyes are red rimmed and puffy, as if she’s been crying.
When I remain frozen in place, he snaps, “Come inside and shut the door, Delilah.”
The tension radiating off Mom in heavy waves is enough to choke on. My teeth sink into my lower lip as I step over the threshold.
The silence is deafening as Pembroke extends an arm toward the lone chair parked in front of his massive antique desk. “Take a seat.”
My gaze darts from him to Mom, who dabs at the corners of her eyes with a tissue, before slicing back to him again, where it reluctantly settles. My fingers tangle in front of me, the curve of my nails sinking into my palms.