Page 76 of Cruel Prep (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 1)

I stand a bit taller, hug my sketchbook to my chest, and don’t deviate from my path. I keep walking, eyes straight ahead, until we are toe to toe. Until we are close enough that I can smell the sickly-sweet bubble gum scent of her perfume.

“Excuse you,” she snaps, lip pulled back in a sneer that makes it look like she just stepped in dog poop.

I blink up at her blankly and don’t make any effort to move or apologize.

Her eyes narrow further, roaming over me, sizing me up for a fight. But when she reaches my necklace, an unfamiliar expression flickers over her face.

I lay a hand on the lock, rubbing my fingers over the smooth metal. “Oh, do you like this? It was a gift.”

She quickly schools her face into an icy sneer. “It’s hideous.”

I shrug. “To each their own.”

Tired of waiting for Cora to make her move or leave, I take an exaggerated step to the right, but before I can move forward, Cora angles herself in front of me, blocking my path.

“You aren’t ready for whatever Finn has planned,” she hisses. “You are just a poor little peasant girl, and you are in so far over your head. Public trash.”

I want to laugh in her face. As if I don’t already know all of that.

I realized the night of Finn’s party that I didn’t understand anything about this world or anyone in it. I’ve been barely treading water since then. The fact that Cora thinks she is giving me new information is almost funny.

Except, it isn’t.

“Thanks for the tip.”

“It’s not a tip.” She hold up a hand to stop me, but her hand hovers a few inches from my skin like she is afraid to touch me. She drops her hand and clenches her fist. “It’s a fact.”

“I guess we’ll both find out,” I say with false cheerfulness. “Will I see you at the dance?”

Cora’s red-painted lips press together until they are almost flat. I wonder if she asked her parents to try and get me banned from the dance or if that was their idea.

“Well, I’ll be there either way,” I say, lifting my hand in a wave. “See you around.”

I don’t give Cora the chance to stop me again. I walk past her with a smile on my face, aware that every eye on the hallway is on me.

Cora may be right about Finn. I might not be prepared to handle him. But I just proved one thing for sure: I certainly know how to handle her.

When school gets out, I meet Mom by the dumpsters and we ride the bus back to the motel. I spend an hour doing homework and an hour sketching.

I keep glancing anxiously at my phone, waiting for it to buzz. But it doesn’t.

That’s strange. Finn usually texts. He’s been picking me up at the motel most nights. It’s even become a kind of ritual between us.

It goes down the same way almost every time. His hair is always wet from his shower after football practice, and the inside of his car smells like his bodywash.

I can’t get over the dressed-down look. Finn in sweats is a different creature. When he’s not wearing his jeans and perfectly coiffed hair, it’s almost like seeing him without his armor. It makes him seem like a real person.

At school, everyone worships him like a god amongst men. It makes him seem too big to be real.

But when we are in the confined space of his car, and I can see his hair curling as it dries over his ear, it makes everything about him—everything we’ve done together—more real.

I’m not sure what the point of the drives is. We don’t ever go anywhere. We normally don’t even leave the car.

Finn will just drive for a while, while we talk—about football and running and the people we go to school with, all of whom Finn seems to hate.

We never talk about his dad, though. I tried once, and Finn shut it down hard. He just said, “My dad is an asshole, and I don’t like to spend my time with assholes.”

And that was that. Never brought it up again.

---