Page 27 of Cruel Elite (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 3)

I smile and inquire about their kids or, in the case of some of my classmates, the upcoming semester. I work the room like a career politician, even though there is no election.

Just like my mother taught me.

“Oh, to be young,” Maryann Thomas says, admiring me with a twinkle in her eye.

She is an older woman with children closer to Momma’s age, though yoga has kept her remarkably trim and toned. She has been a member of the class since my mom and I joined.

And she’s the only person in Ravenlake who can compete with my mother in the Obnoxiously Vain Olympics.

“I remember when my skin was tight and my chest was perky, and I could wear a sports bra around town without worrying someone would call the authorities.”

“I’m sure no one would call the police,” I say with a bright chuckle, eying the rest of the room to see if I can make a quick escape.

I know Maryann is just trying to relive what she believes are her glory days, but I wish she could do it without talking about how attractive she finds me.

It’s a bit creepy.

She steps closer and lays a hand on my shoulder. “They would, believe me! Not everyone is like your mother, bouncing back to that gorgeous body of hers so soon after your baby sister was born! No one wants to see a wrinkled old woman like me half-dressed. But a pretty young thing like you? People would pay for it!”

I’ve only been talking to Maryann for a few minutes—my tolerance is usually much higher—but I’m already losing patience.

Maybe it’s because Noah (real and dream version) has stolen all of my patience today.

Maybe it’s because I’m running on shitty sleep and half a latte. Skipping breakfast is a recipe for disaster.

Either way, I’m low on patience and high on angst, so I can’t stop myself before I respond.

“Do you really think so? I’ve been considering exotic dance work, but I’ve been nervous about taking the plunge. But you and I both know I won’t look like this forever. Might as well make a few bucks on it while I can.”

To say Maryann is horrified would be an understatement.

Her eyes go wide, her mouth gapes, and small bursts of air are coming out of her nose.

She truly can’t tell whether I’m joking or not, and I don’t blame her. It wasn’t a very good joke.

Technically, it was more of a sarcastic “fuck off, you witch.”

Based on the way she is slowly backing away from me, I think I made the message nice and clear.

And for one shining moment, it feels good. I feel proud.

I said what I wanted. Not what Momma wanted me to say, or what my friends expected me to say, or any of the shit that normally clamps down on my actions like a steel vise.

I said it forme.For Penny.

It feels good… right up until I glance over and see Momma staring at me. She looks fucking livid.

She heard what I said, and she isn’t pleased.

11

Penny

Sami claps her hands and announces the start of the session before my mom can say anything to me.

By the child’s pose at the end of class, I’m almost relaxed enough to forget I’ll have to answer to my mom later.

Almost.

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