Page 44 of Cruel Academy (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 2)

I twirl my pencil between my fingers, noticing all of the nicks and scars across my knuckles from years of fighting.

I’m supposed to be writing an essay about what I hope to achieve during my final year of high school for my Theory of Knowledge class. Goals. Aspirations. That kind of bullshit.

I do have a lot of things I want to accomplish. But destroying Haley Cochran and paying off my mom’s mortgage probably aren’t the kinds of answers Mrs. Benac is expecting. So I’m drawing a bit of a blank here.

“I don’t like how much time you’re spending alone,” Mom says, grabbing her keys and purse from the island. “I’m not here most evenings, and then you’re at Finn’s house alone so much and—”

“I wasn’t alone.”

She brightens for a minute before her eyes narrow. When she is disappointed or suspicious, I finally see what people mean when they say we look alike.

“I told you, the second I find out you are taking girls over to Finn’s house, I’m taking those keys away and looking after the place myself.”

My mom likes to pretend there is a possibility I’m still a virgin. It’s adorable. I indulge her delusion for no other reason than that she has enough things to worry about.

“J.C. and Noah came with me,” I say, rolling my eyes. “We played video games on the projector.”

She relaxes noticeably, buying the lie.

Sometimes I’m not sure if I’m actually a good liar or if she just wants to believe my bullshit. If she’s too tired to question it.

“Okay. Good. But if you do feel like you’re alone too much, I can quit the bar job. I don’t really even need it. It’s just for some extra spending money. You say the word, and—”

“It’s fine. Really.”

Especially since she definitely does need the bar job.

When she and Dad bought our house five years ago, Mom expected to have two incomes paying off the mortgage.

Now, with my asshole father mostly out of the picture, it is just her job at the bank. And that only goes so far towards the mortgage.

There isn’t much money left for anything else … like heat or water or electricity.

“Are you sure?”

I sigh. “Mom, what teenage boy do you know who wants to spend all of his time with his mom instead of his friends?”

She holds up her hands in surrender. “Fair point. Okay. I just had to check. I’m your mom. It’s my job to worry.”

My father is a constant unspoken presence between us. The few times either of us have dared to speak about him, things don’t go well.

Mostly because Mom wants me to let him back into my life.

“He’s trying,”she always says.“He calls. A lot of dads don’t even do that.”

But I don’t give a shit what “a lot of dads” do or don’t do.

My dad left.

So fuck him forever.

“Don’t you need to get going?” I say, pointing at the clock.

Mom jumps when she realizes the time. She blows me a quick air kiss, and then scurries towards the door. “Hopefully, my car can get me there.”

“Is the check engine light still on?”

“It’s fine,” she says, waving through a small crack in the door. “I’ll get it looked at soon.”

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