Page 97 of Cruel Academy (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 2)

“You don’t do shit for me,” I spit, jaw clenched.

Mom would warn me to calm down. She’d tell me to take a breath or take a walk.

My anger towards Dad has always been upsetting to her. She feels responsible for ruining her marriage and my relationship with my dad, but Dad ruined our relationship himself.

If he doesn’t want to face the fallout of that, then he should stop coming back.

Real men face the consequences of their actions. They don’t run from them.

His jaw flexes and clenches, his nostrils flare, and I can see that the hold he’s had on his self-control is growing weak. “Maybe, from now on, I actually won’t do shit for you.”

I shrug.

“Maybe,” he continues, crossing his arms and leaning back, “I’ll stop paying for your truck and your phone bill and school. I’ll stop paying for your health insurance and your car insurance. I’ll stop paying for everything I’ve been covering for the last few years and let you experience what it would be like if you didn’t have a dad.”

We glare at each other for a few heavy seconds, and I keep waiting for the anger to rise up in me.

But it doesn’t.

And the empty feeling left in its stead is almost worse than rage. It feels like the last tether I had connecting me to my dad has snapped.

“Thanks to you, I already know what it’s like to not have a dad.”

I push away from the table, my chair scraping across the floor, and grab my keys from the counter.

“You can’t just walk away from me!” he hollers at my back.

I open the door and call over my shoulder. “Yes, I can. You showed me how.”

36

Caleb

I’m watching sitcom reruns at Finn’s and halfway through a plastic bottle of shitty vodka when I remember my phone in my back pocket.

My mom and dad probably took turns calling me, trying to get me to come back and talk, but I’m sure they’ve given up by now. They usually do.

I power the phone up, toss it on the cushion next to me, and take another long swig from the bottle.

Thirty seconds later, my phone buzzes. Then, it buzzes again. And again.

Vibration after vibration comes through, my phone catching up on all of the messages I missed while I was away, but it is even more than I expected. Certainly more than a few phone calls and some texts.

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I unlock my phone.

The calls from my parents are there, like I expected, but there are also four missed calls from Haley.

And a text.

The Hell Princes attacked me.

I’m on my feet and calling Haley before my foggy, vodka-soaked brain can even fully process the message or the implications. The fact that she texted me means she is okay, but I am still surprised and relieved when she answers her phone.

“Hey.”

“Are you okay?” I ask, pacing a wobbly line across the living room. “What happened? When?”

“I’m okay. I’m fine. It was hours ago.”

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