Page 8 of Cruel Riches

She nodded. “It’s not fair. We can’t tell anyone who we really are, and all we do is lie about everything. I just wanted more people in my life. People I can be real with, I mean.”

“I know. It sucks. But you’ll always have me, Mom, and Simon.”

“I know.” She wiped her face again. “But Mom and Simon are all the way over in California, so I basically never see them, and you’re moving to Blackthorne later today.”

“I’m only doing that because it’s a college rule. All first-years have to live on campus,” I said. “But I’ll only be half an hour away, and I’m leaving most of my stuff here. I’ll be back to hang out with you all the time.”

Sascha’s shoulders relaxed. “Yeah, I know.” She let out a long sigh. “Sorry for being moody and throwing the cup like a psycho. I’m just so mad.”

“It’s fine. We’ll clean it up later,” I said. “Let’s go outside for a while. Get some fresh air.”

She nodded and followed me out to the apartment’s main balcony. We turned to the side, admiring the view on our left. It never failed to impress.

The early-September sun was shining over the ocean, making the water glitter, and well-fed seagulls squawked and swooped, collecting scraps from tourists on the boardwalk. In the distance, a gleaming white ferry slogged across the ocean, headed for the mainland.

“Remember what you were saying about how beautiful it is here?” I said. “It really is. We’re lucky to be here, even if we can’t tell anyone about our history.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Seriously. There’s so much stuff to enjoy here. Focus on that.”

“You’re right. I’m just being dramatic,” Sascha said, giving me a rueful half-smile. “Honestly, it seems like you’re the older sister sometimes. You’re so wise.”

If she knew about half of the shit I’d gotten up to lately, she wouldn’t say that.

I laughed softly. “Trust me, I’m definitely not that wise.”

I was just better at detaching from situations. Sascha had always been a very sensitive and emotional person, like our mother, so she found it harder to detach. She was also three years older than me. That meant she had more memories from Avalon than me, and it made things extra-hard for her.

Yawning, I dropped my gaze from the ocean to the street below, watching two wayward gulls peck at something on the sidewalk. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a black car parked across from our apartment. The tinted driver’s side window was partway down, and a man in sunglasses and a dark beanie was sitting inside, looking up at our balcony. He had a phone in one hand, and it looked like he might be filming us or taking photos.

Narrowing my eyes, I nudged Sascha. “Is that guy watching us?” I asked. “Don’t stare and make it too obvious, or he might stop before you see.”

She turned to look while pretending to rub the side of her head. “Yeah, it looks like he’s taking photos. What a dick.”

“Let’s confront him,” I said. “We need to take our bad moods out on something, so why not focus on a local creeper?”

She snickered. “Good idea.”

We marched out of the third-story apartment and went down to the ground floor. Then we headed outside and strode across the road, making a beeline for the black car.

“Hey, did you get some good photos of us?” I called toward it.

“Fucking perv!” Sascha added. “You know you can just look up girls on the internet, right?”

Before we could get close to the car, the window went up, and the man pulled away from the curb and sped down the street.

I burst out laughing as I watched the car turn the corner, and Sascha joined in. A few seconds later, she suddenly stopped. “Wait a minute,” she said, eyes widening. “Why would some random creep target our apartment?”

“Why not? There are creeps everywhere. Last week I caught some guy trying to take photos up a girl’s skirt at that café over on Seewald Avenue.”

“But… what if someone knows who we are? What if that guy was watching us because of that?” she said.

I chewed my bottom lip. She had a point. Someone could’ve figured out who we were if they dug deep enough.

Then again, why would anyone be digging into our backgrounds? We’d lived on the island for almost eight months now, and everything had been fine. No one seemed to suspect a thing.

“I’m sure it’s okay,” I said. “Honestly, we’re probably just paranoid because of our past.”

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