Page 30 of Feel Free to Scream

Regards,

Marissa Collins

Executive Assistant

Rothford University Board of Directors

13

CLAIRE

Ireread the email at least a hundred times, stunned speechless.

“—aire. Claire, what’s wrong?”

My eyes don’t leave the screen for more than a fraction of a second, taking in Lily’s worried expression. She must have tried to call me a few times.

“I…” I can feel my lower lip tremble. “I don’t…understand. I’ve been expelled. Kicked out of school before it even started.”

“What?” Lily screeches.

She reaches for my phone and I let her take it, hoping against all hope she’ll tell me the email’s fake, that I didn’t understand it correctly.

“Oh god. Section seven, paragraph twelve, what is that, even?Fuck. Let me check.”

She switches to her own device and scrolls through it, eyebrows scrunched up in concentration.

“The section is ‘Tarnishing the reputation of the school.’ Shit, Claire. God, let me get to twelve…student privacy on private premises. Oh, no.” She looks up at me, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry. Oh, Claire.”

So that’s it. It was real. And it was…about something I’d done.

“I suppose you tried to warn me,” I hear myself whisper.

She and Cross both warned me, in different ways, to mind my business. But I didn’t. I did what I thought was right. I don’t know if I got that letter because of filming Keller, or my chat with the cop. Maybe both. I thought my reprehensible actions of last night were limited to what happened with Keller, but as far as the school is concerned, the line was making any of their precious rich students look bad.

I swallow.

I did this. And worse yet, I didn’t, at any point, believe I was doing anything wrong—anything that deserves this. I still don’t.

How even have they heard about it? Keller must have told them. I guess the term snitch is reserved for me, not the likes of him.

“I’ll call Keller. Ask if he can help.”

A dry chuckle works its way up my throat. “Right. The same guy who told them in the first place.”

“I sincerely doubt that, Claire. I mean, you talked to the cops. In all likelihood, they made a report. What happened to Charlotte at the Shark House had minor media attention.”

“Don’t you think it’s about the video I took?”

“No.” She’s strict. “For that, Cross would have made you pay, directly. Or me,” she rewords. “Tattling to his daddy isn’t his style. But the cops—shit. I should have seen this. Stopped you from saying anything at all.”

In what world does a university expel a student for telling the truth to the police? Well, a heavily edited version of the truth, but still. I even made sure no one could be directly reprimanded, insisting I helped myself to their booze.

It occurs to me that defense likely wouldn’t fly with everyone.

God, I am expelled. The reality of it hasn’t hit yet. I had other offers, but none as good as Rothford’s, and the enrollment period is over for any other school. Besides, I can’t afford to pack up and fly—well, anywhere.

All of a sudden, I’m bent in two, crying so hard I can’t even see straight, loud, dreadful sobs coming out of me, uncontrolled.

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