Page 34 of Make Me Scream

This isn’t fucking fair.

“Ms. Carpenter?”

“Yes, Professor Mundell. It’s clear.”

He hangs up.

This can’t be fucking happening.

Without my scholarship, I’m out. I can’t afford the tuition here, or the shared apartment.

I can already hear my mother’s bitter cackle.

Welcome to the real world, Gwen!

She could be right, but I don’t care. I’m not going back. I’m staying here, one way or another.

What I need is a way to get Mundell to back off, or better yet, to champion my work, instead of deriding it. I can think of one person who could possibly make that happen.

We need to talk, right now,I text Lane.

He writes back,I’ll be at my studio in one hour. Meet me there.

His address follows.

Fine,I text.See you soon.

Lane better know how to fix this, because if I go down, I’ll make sure everyone knows the truth about Rush Mundell and his academy.

Chapter 8

Based on Gwen’s initial expression, I doubt my studio fits what she imagined. Yes, there’s an easel with canvasses, brushes and bottles of paint, but that’s just one small corner of the former broadcast news office. The rest is devoted to A/V equipment: monitors, sound and video editing stations, a workbench for custom electronics…

“What is this place?” she asks, taking a tentative step back.

I slide around a former reception desk facing the entrance, giving her space.

“It belonged to a news channel that went bankrupt. They needed to offload their property, quickly, and I was in the market.”

“Why?”

“I needed it. I’ll explain why soon. First, I want to talk about your work. That’s why you’re here, right?”

Gwen’s face darkens.

“I’m here because I just spoke to Mundell. He wants me to stop, or he’ll kill my scholarship.”

Fuck.

He couldn’t let it go, could he?

Rush just couldn’t let one of his hand-picked recruits deviate from the Mundell doctrine. Doesn’t he have enough to work with already? This is one of our most talented crops of new students in years. He’s just being petty about her choices.

Unless this is really about me.

I rub my forehead and squeeze my eyes, This is not how I wanted us to start, considering what I’ve been mentally preparing myself to do.

Should I call it off?

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