Page 48 of Cruel Prep (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 1)

I’m the girl who cried gang rape.

I’m the girl who pointed the finger at a rich kid from Ravenlake Prep and got him sent to another country.

I’m the girl who everyone suspects. Who everyone hates.

Because I’m not one of them. I’m an outsider, a Public kid, a peasant and a shit-stirrer and apparently, a whore.

Which is why Principal Cooprider doesn’t even blink twice when Mr. Woodson reports that he caught me red-handing, graffitiing the girls’ locker room.

Cora is a fucking slut, the walls read.

“Why would Cora write something like that about herself?” Principal Cooprider asks when I lamely tried to convince her of the truth.

Her hands are folded in front of her, lips pursed as though she is attempting to solve this case, even though I already know she has the answer she wants.

According to her and the school resource office, the culprit is sitting right in front of them.

Me.

Only my mother seems to be on my side. “Lily has never been in trouble before,” she says. Then, she sighs and shrugs. “This summer excluded.”

“I wasn’t in trouble this summer,” I remind her. “I was a witness.”

Principal Cooprider waves her hand to dismiss the topic. “Past events have no bearing on what is happening now. The fact is, Mrs. DeVry, your daughter received three demerits in one day and was already slated for detention. One of those demerits was given because of an altercation she had with Cora. So, it is not far-fetched to believe she could have been angry and sought revenge.”

“What about my locker?” I ask. “There was a red ‘A’ spray painted on my locker. Why would I do something like that?”

“That is not my concern right now,” Principal Cooprider says coolly. “Your behavior has been causing problems with other students and staff. If it continues, your scholarship will be revoked.”

So pouring rotten fish juice in my locker is a-okay? But God forbid someone pick on meek, defenseless Cora Manning?

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

It seems to me that a lot of things aren’t the administration’s concern, even though they should be.

I lean forward and spit, “Good! Revoke it. See if I care.”

“Lily!” My mom lays a hand on my shoulder and pulls me back into the chair. She sighs and addresses the administration—her employer. “We will figure this out. She’ll do whatever it takes to sort this all out.”

Mr. Woodson steps forward and pulls a mop bucket from around the corner. “Cleaning up your mess is step number one.”

I sit still in fury for a moment, fists balled and cheeks flushed.

Then it all just goes away.

What’s the point in fighting? I can’t win. These people have me surrounded, overpowered. Even having Mom here doesn’t help.

Truthfully, I’m all on my own.

And so the easiest thing to do is just submit.

Mr. Woodson waits in the hallway while I go into the locker room with the cleaning supplies. Having my own officer on guard makes me feel like a prisoner, which honestly doesn’t feel that far from reality.

I’m trapped in this school, in this life, in this situation. The only way out is to keep my head down and do my time.

The paint is still tacky in some places, so soap and water can take care of those, but most of the word ‘whore’ requires a special spray that still only dims the red color. It doesn’t get rid of it.

Principal Cooprider told me to do what I could today and then they would find the matching paint and repaint the wall later. So, I do what I can.

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