Page 18 of Princess of Hawthorne Prep

Consequences mean nothing to him.

His eyes turn stormy as uncontrolled rage flashes in them. “Yeah, you do.”

He’s close enough for his warm breath to drift across my lips. My muscles tense as I wait for his next move. There’s nothing to stop him from inflicting untold amounts of damage.

“You’re a whore, just like all these other girls,” he growls as one hand snakes out, slithering up the length of my bare leg and disappearing beneath my tartan skirt.

My mouth turns cottony as fear rushes through me. When I press closer to the locker as if it’s possible to put more distance between us, an ugly chuckle falls from his lips.

“What’s the matter, Delilah?” His fingers bite into my flesh, and I wince as pain radiates through my thigh. “You only like it when trash touches you?”

His face lowers as his lips hover over mine. I press my palms against his chest and push with all my strength, but he doesn’t budge an inch. When his lips lower, I twist my head to the side.

And meet the steely-eyed gaze of Austin.

Every single protest dies a quick death on the tip of my tongue as the frigidness of his expression freezes me to the core. There’s so much anger filling his green eyes. It couldn’t be more different from how he stared at me Friday night.

Jasper nips at my earlobe as I stare in horror. It’s like I’m paralyzed. Unable to move or turn my head away. I know exactly what this looks like. That’s all it takes for a little piece of me to shrivel and die. Before I can fight my way free, Austin swings away and stalks down the hall, disappearing from sight.

Any hope that he might have cooled off enough to listen to my side of the story has now been snuffed out.

DELILAH

Jasper’s dark laughter chases me down the corridor and follows me into my first hour classroom as I slump onto my chair and glance at the digital clock that hangs over the exit.

The bell rings throughout the building at exactly half past seven.

Whispered comments whip around me as Coach Baker settles on his chair before reclining back and kicking his shoes up on his desk. The loudspeaker buzzes as the morning announcements are read.

“All right everyone, settle down and listen up,” Coach says. “Then we’ll finish the chapter on rational functions. Remember, there’s a test next week.”

Most of the class groans.

“This coming weekend is the annual senior camping trip,” Mrs. Baxter says in a chirpy, grandmotherly voice. “This is a chance for all you seniors to prove just how mature you’ve become and to bond with your fellow classmates.”

A loud cheer goes up in the room, followed by lots of hooting and hollering. Exuberant voices can be heard echoing down the hallway.

The senior camping trip is a three-day excursion to Lake Michigan. There are about a dozen families who own vacation homes along the sandy shores, Kingsley and Jasper being two of them. Students get divided up between the available locations. And a few brave classmates who enjoy the wilderness pitch tents at a nearby recreational area on the beach and rough it. It’s supposed to be a bonding opportunity as well as a reward for making it to senior year.

Was it really only last week that I was looking forward to spending time with Austin?

After everything that’s happened, there’s no way I’m going. Jasper will continue to hunt me, making my life hell. A chill scuddles down my spine at the idea of being at my ex’s mercy for the three-day trip without an adult in sight. Mom already threatened to take it away. I’ll have to make sure she pulls the plug altogether.

It shouldn’t be difficult.

I’d much rather spend the weekend hibernating in my room and licking my wounds in private. If I’m lucky, someone else—or a bunch of someone elses—will blow their lives up, and this photo fiasco will die a quick death.

One can hope, right?

Just as the announcements end, Mrs. Baxter says, “Delilah Robinson, please come to the office.”

The muscles in my belly contract as snickers explode from the students seated all around me.

When I remain frozen in place, Coach Baker raises his brow and jerks his head toward the door. “Get moving, Ms. Robinson.”

“Maybe Pembroke is looking for a little of what you gave Jasper Friday night,” Aiden Wendt says in an obnoxious voice, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Those knees are gonna get chafed from all the time spent on them.”

Heat slams into my cheeks as I gather up my books with shaking hands and hug them close to my chest. A few more comments are shouted as I rush from the classroom. Even though their laughter and childishness shouldn’t bother me, tears sting the backs of my eyes. I have to blink to prevent the wetness from splashing onto my cheeks.

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