Page 10 of Princess of Hawthorne Prep

Shock crashes over me, knocking me off balance. Out of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn’t it. My hand flutters to my chest in confusion.“Me?”

“Yeah.” His gaze drops to the slim silver device in his hand before he reluctantly passes it over. “They’re of you and…” His voice trails off.

My teeth sink into my lower lip, worrying it as I key in my passcode and stare at the home screen. I wince at the slew of text messages from Mom along with a half dozen missed calls that pop up.

Yup. Definitely grounded for the rest of my life. She’s probably checking out convents as we speak.

What I notice next are a bunch of unopened messages from people I don’t really talk to.

Like Sloane.

And Aubrey.

And dozens of guys.

More than that, actually.

Why would any of them bother to text me?

Or even talk to me?

Let alone acknowledge my existence?

There’s a distant tickle in the far recesses of my brain as I stare at Aubrey’s name. As soon as I try to bring forth the memory, it vanishes like a curl of smoke. Dismissing the strange thought, I click on the first message.

Half a dozen photographs pop up.

Of me.

And Jasper.

Ones of us kissing.

Disbelief sets in as I continue to scroll.

The last one is the worst.

It looks like…

Like…

I’m blowing him.

Oh god.

No.

These can’t be real.

My brain whirls as I drag the phone closer to my face and scrutinize the girl on the screen. She has the same thick blonde hair and is wearing the same thin sweater I still have on. This girl bears an uncanny resemblance to me because it’s…me.

There’s no mistaking it.

My face is as clear as can be. Almost as if someone went to the trouble to make sure it was captured for posterity. I clap a hand to my mouth as the acidic taste of bile rises in my throat. Any moment it’s going to spew all over the place.

“You don’t remember any of this?” Duke asks cautiously as if he realizes that I’m teetering on the brink.

As I continue to stare at the images, I force myself to think about the previous twenty-four hours, but like before, everything remains blank. There aren’t any memories. It’s like staring at a stranger’s antics.

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