Page 50 of Savage Rose

I press my lips together, remembering that icky event, but then slide Beau a tiny smirk. “Pure mayhem. I don’t know how you do that every weekend and function.”

He chuckles. “Easy, pretty girl. We’ve been training for it our whole lives.”

“The life of a Rose, huh?”

“Yep. Pretty sweet.”

Yeah. I’m beginning to think it must be.

* * *

Later, at lunch, Max slides into a seat next to me. I guess he and Xander have made some sort of pact. They’ve alternated staying by my side between classes, even though Justin isn’t at school today. And Max insisted I fill Daphne in on everything that happened at the party, so I had. Doesn’t mean I want to discuss it further, though. I’m relieved they haven’t brought it up today.

Max picks up the fancy grilled cheese sandwich that looks like it came out of some ritzy restaurant instead of a high school cafeteria, and takes a big bite. He grins around it as he eyes both me and Daphne, his hazel eyes twinkling.

“Guess what I found out?”

I raise my brows over the apple I’m eating. “What? You make me nervous when you make that goofy face.”

He winks, his voice conspiratorial and low. “My snooping paid off. You, my dear, arenotactually here on an athletic scholarship.”

My eyes bug out.

Daphne had been about to take a bite of her roll when she stops with it halfway to her mouth and whispers. “Say what? So, is it academic, then? I would have thought they’d have been very explicit about that. It makes no sense.”

Max leans forward and holds a finger to his lips, shaking his head. “Nope. What I’m about to tell you is not information that the school is supposed to share.” He glances over each shoulder to make sure no one is close enough to hear him. “So, when I was poking around in Mr. Stilton’s office this morning, I found all the info on each type of scholarship and who received them this year. Your name isn’tanywhereon their official list.”

I frown. “Well, did you find anything about me at all? I mean, I’m not crazy. And obviously, I’m here. When we were contacted by the school, they said it was for an athletic scholarship. And I’m on the team, so I don’t understand.”

He smirks. “That’s what someone wants you to think.” He takes a bite of his grilled cheese and chews, winking at us because it’s obvious he knows something more.

When he doesn’t elaborate right away, Daphne kicks him under the table, and he yelps. “I know you’re pleased with yourself, but don’t mess around here, Max. What did you find?”

He sets down the sandwich and wipes his hand on a napkin. “Okay, okay, here’s the deal. You have a special scholarship. There was a folder with your name on it with a bunch of paperwork. Whoever sponsored you wanted to make sure it appeared that it was for sports and”—he jabs his pointer finger on the table—“it was done anonymously.”

Daphne and I exchange a look. “What?” we say at the same time.

“I don’t understand. So does the school know who it is?”

I swallow hard. How can this be true? And better question—who knows about it and is pushing me to figure it out? Are they doing it just to point out the fact that I didn’t actually earn a scholarship for cross-country? To poke at my ego? Hurt me? Or is there something more to this? What iswrongwith the people at this academy?

Max grits his teeth. “Baby girl. People with money can hide just about anything. Everyone has a price. Now, whether the school knows who or not, I don’t know.”

I frown. “Someone has to know. Right?”

“I can keep digging, if you want. I don’t know that I’ll find anything, though. I don’t think we are meant to know.”

My face falls, torn as to whether or not to ask him to keep looking. “I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“You forget. My family may not be one of the OG Roses, but we still have clout. I’ll be fine. I’m not saying I’m able to get away with murder, but my parents donate substantially to the school every year. I can do a lot and be forgiven.”

“Right. Well, if you think there’s something to be found, I guess keep looking.”

“You got it. I’ll keep my eyes open, then. Maybe there’s something in the school’s financial records. I’d have to see if I can get in good with the bookkeeper.”

We’re interrupted when my phone vibrates, alerting me to a message.

Max points at the phone. “Wait a sec.” His eyes dart to mine. “That’s a new phone.”

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