Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 48097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Not being able to resist smirking, I leaned back in my chair and raised an eyebrow. “Good luck trying. I could give you her cell, and I could even give you her business line. Hell, I could give you her agent’s number, her manager’s, her assistant’s… but you won’t be able to reach her.”
I had tried to be respectful, but now he was just pressing my buttons. I didn’t like talking about my mother—or lack of a mother—and I was growing more annoyed by the second.
Hanging up the phone, he asked, “So, you live by yourself?”
I shrugged. “I’m nineteen, remember?”
I didn’t reveal the fact that I pretty much had lived by myself for most of my life. Occasionally, I would be lucky enough to have a nanny or a housekeeper watch over me. But a mother? No.
“Did she move here with you to Black Mountain?”
“We didn’t just move here. It’s been a vacation home for years,” I said, knowing I wasn’t exactly answering the question.
“But you moved here to go to school. Not vacation. Correct?”
I nodded.
“Corrine…” He reached for his coffee cup and took a sip before continuing on. “Where’s your mother?”
“I don’t know. French Riviera. Greece maybe. On a yacht with some billionaire possibly.” I shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“And she doesn’t answer her phone?”
You would think a mother would, but no.
I took a calming breath and shook my head. “She likes to detach from the world between films. Her last movie took a lot out of her.” Or so she told me when I last spoke to her before moving to Black Mountain.
I had told her I wanted a change and would like to attend a new school. She agreed, thought a change of scenery would do me good, but did nothing beyond that to help me… unless you counted the use of her credit card as help.
“And what if you need her?” he asked.
I gave up on needing her a long time ago. Of course, that was yet another little tidbit of information I didn’t share with Mr. D.
“I’m fine.”
Mr. D did a good job hiding his emotions. I knew he was judging me, but his face remained flat, hard, and it drove me crazy that I couldn’t read him. Although I really didn’t care what he thought about me just as long as he didn’t kick me out of Black Mountain Academy.
“Regardless, I’m going to need to speak to your mother,” he said.
“I understand that. But like I told you, it isn’t going to be easy.”
He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and nodded. “I’m not sure I believe that you have zero way of contacting her. But regardless, until I speak with her, you have detention—every day until a conference is set up with your mother.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he put up a hand.
“Unless you want me to move forward with expulsion due to your lack of attendance.”
I shut my mouth, looked down at my feet and ran my palms over my school uniform skirt. Taking hold of the fabric, I raised it up my thigh to reveal more flesh. I snuck a peek to Mr. D and waited to see how he’d react before pulling my skirt up a little further. Maybe it was time to bring in the big guns.
Except he didn’t even look at me. He didn’t seem to notice or care. Trying to flirt with what I figured to be more of a robot rather than a man, would just be embarrassing. Seeing as his eyes didn’t even glance toward my legs, I doubted I would have much success.
Damn.
“Fine,” I mumbled. Although the likelihood of me attending detention every day until graduation was more likely than him reaching my mom.
“Get to class,” he said, rising from his chair. “And so we are on the same page”—he walked toward the door as I followed—“if you miss another day, or are late again, you’ll not be allowed to attend this school any longer. Are we clear, Miss Parker?”
I walked past him in the doorway and bit my tongue against what I really wanted to say. “Yes, Mr. D. Perfectly clear.”
2
Mr. D
It had been a huge mistake thinking I would like this job in Black Mountain better than my former position in Oakland. I had assumed getting out of the inner-city school for some posh academy gig would make life easier. The pay was stellar, the fresh mountain air was needed, and a change of scenery crucial if I was to have any more years left in me for academia life.
I was wrong.
It was still the same bullshit.
The same kids, the same excuses, the same teachers, the same paperwork that nearly sucked the life out of me, and the same crap that I loathed.
The only real difference in being the principal of Black Mountain Academy was that I dealt with rich little fucks rather than poor ones. But that wasn’t really the worst part of the job. What I really hated was the damn board of directors and their pointless meetings and social gatherings. The board of Black Mountain Academy won the award as being the most precocious, elite, and annoying people I had ever met.