Page 54 of The Forbidden Note

I walk inside with a new determination.

Dad thinks I’m a screw-up.

So freaking what?

Everyone likes an underdog.

It’s time I show dad the hell someone like me can rain on his kingdom.

CHAPTERTWELVE

GREY

I hate funerals.

They remind me of her.

Of Sloane.

The way her mother wailed, refusing to let the cemetery workers lower her casket into the ground.

The way her sisters cried, silent tears rolling down their faces.

The way no one came.

She died alone.

Rejected.

Forgotten.

And no one gave a damn.

No one except the reporters.

News vans. Cameras. Journalists who had to be held back with police tape and ‘do not cross’ signs. Jackals feasting on our pain. Vultures with a carcass. Exploiting her even in death.

I look out over the grassy knoll where Cadence’s mother is being laid to rest. Before me is a meticulously well-maintained lawn, lavish tombstones and a garden where mourning family members can find a moment of solace among colorful blooms.

Sloane’s final resting place is nothing like this. Her body’s stuffed in a government plot with tombstones cracked and chipped away. Some even have graffiti on them. Surrounding her are impoverished shacks, signs of illegal squatting. Drugs run rampant. Daily murders feed a direct line to the graveyard.

There’s no peace there.

No garden.

Only weeds that grow rampant, feasting on the decaying bones that feed the soil.

Bile rises in my throat and the anger that lay dormant, the fury that simmers just beneath my skin, comes to a boil.

What happened to Sloane is unforgivable.

The one responsible was caught and is in jail now, but the blame belongs to more than just the man who wielded the knife. There are people walking around whose hands are stained in blood. People who have yet to receive their punishment.

I should be further along on my mission by now. The stalled investigation is my fault. I’ve gotten too immersed in my role as a teacher at Redwood Prep. I’ve started to care about the students.

Some of the kids are entitled jerks, as to be expected in a place as exclusive as Redwood. But there are many who, like Sloane, are just trying to find their way.

The scholarship kids, especially, have a place in my heart.

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