Page 18 of SNOB

“Oh…” My throat closes in and that familiar burn comes to my nose.

Stand up for yourself.

“So, that’s it? The first time you have someone in your school who actually wants to work hard and you kick her out the first chance you get?”

“You’re a thief, Miss Everett.” Dean Patel leans forward, a smile that’s far from friendly on her face. “We have the evidence. Cameras show the medal falling out of your bag. You can’t deny that.”

Fighting the tears in my eyes I take a deep breath. I’m stupid for thinking this was a good idea.

Malcolm McKinsley steals my future. Again.

“That’s where that went!”

A croaky voice comes from behind me, a woodsy floral smell coming with it.

“Excuse me, Mister Laval, we’re in the middle of something.”

Turning around, that boy from Sun House stands with three medals hanging off his hand. Beau? Was that his name? He flips his pink hair before reaching for Mac’s medal. “I’m meant to be polishing these for the Crowns. Thought I lost one.”

Dean Patel pulls the medal back, glancing at the cop who looks as confused as we do. “Turns out Miss Everett had it.”

When he glances at me, heat hits my cheeks. Are all the guys here supermodels? Is that what privilege gets you? Smooth skin and perfect hair?

“Of course, she did,” he says with a smile, his teeth glimmering under the light. “She was helping me.”

“Is that so?” Dean Patel doesn’t sound convinced, tilting her head to the side. “Miss Everett doesn’t seem to recall how it got there.”

“Hm…weird.” Beau sounds like he’s thinking.

“I was distracted,” I chime in.

Dean Patel narrows her eyes before an arm wraps around my waist. Beau pulls me close, heat swirling around me. “I hear the Lavals can be quite the distraction, isn’t that right, Sandra?” Did he just call Dean Patel by her first name? Ballsy.

“You weren’t the one to call it in,” she says, her eyes narrowing further. “Explain that.”

“Was it Mac?” Beau laughs. “Well, we can't trust his theatrics can we?”

“Why would he call it in if he told you to polish them?”

He shrugs, “Why was your car parked outside my house at five in the morning?”

Well, damn.

Dean Patel’s cheeks redden as she clears her throat, “I—you…”

The cop sighs. “If this is a misunderstanding, I have more important things to get to.”

“Looks like it is, doesn’t it?” Beau’s shit-disturbing smile grows as Dean Patel’s face tightens.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time, officer.” She straightens up, glaring at Beau before she turns to me. “Get to class, Miss Everett and remember the code of conduct here. There will be no tolerance.” The officer walks away as she turns to her office.

A breath of relief escapes me.

A cold sweeps over me when Beau lets go of my waist. Turning to him, he smiles. “No need to thank me. There’s no way I was letting a girl like you get kicked out on the Crown’s behalf.” His eyes wander my frame, my arms wrapping around me. They’re bright. A light blue. Mesmerizing in the way they offset his suit as if he planned it all. He looks at me like some sort of art piece, reminding me how different I look to everyone here. “But I’m curious, why has Malcolm McKinsley set his eyes on you?”

“Thank you so much. But I have to go.” I’m not wasting another minute on McKinsley drama, I’m here for much more than that. I have a second chance and I’m grabbing it.

“Intro to Painting?” My brows furrow and he laughs. “You’re clearly not here for any of the stuffy shit like business or economics. Your appearance gives me more artist than musician and well, let’s say it takes an artist to know one.”

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