Astrid does a double take when I meet her in the dining room for breakfast, but she doesn’t utter a word about my outfit of worn jeans and a T-shirt that might be a tad too small now, but it’s still one of my favorites.
I decided to leave all the clothes her buyer Tabby had delivered hanging in the oversized closet of my room and wear what I’m comfortable in. I want to be the real me and not some washed out version of myself. It’s going to make it pretty clear I’m an outsider, but I doubt I’m going to fit in with folks who would judge me for my clothes or where I come from anyway.
“Good morning, dear,” she greets with a smile that looks slightly indulgent but manufactured.
“Morning.” I take the same seat I used the first time we sat down and ate together. Rory’s chair is empty, and Astrid notices when I look in that direction.
“He’s already off to start his day,” she says, answering my unasked question. “You have an appointment with Bella Quade. She runs admissions.”
I take the small piece of paper she slides across the table with a name, phone number, and what I’m assuming is the location of her office, written in neat script. Nervous excitement builds in my stomach, making it impossible to try any of the food offerings served on the table.
“I almost forgot this.” Astrid stands up and comes around my side of the table. I freeze for a moment, unsure if she’s going to try to hug me or what, but a glint of something in her hand catches my eye. She leans forward, her hand extended, but seems to think better of her actions at the last second and decides to present me with what’s in her hand by placing it in my palm.
“What is this?” I question softly, because the shimmery white metal is absolutely beautiful, and I’m a little in awe to be holding it. The thin chain is long, with a ball clasp allowing you to change the length of the necklace, but the pendant is the real star. It’s a square yellow stone, surrounded by clear stones that might be diamonds, but I have no way of knowing.
“It was your mother’s, and I would like you to have it.”
The white metal is deceptively heavy for the delicate appearance. I curl my fingers around the beautiful pendant and necklace. The only piece of jewelry I saw my mother wear was a thin gold band that matched my father’s wedding ring, and those were sold at some point or another to pay bills.
If this truly was hers, then why did she leave it behind? Or was it just a reminder of her old life that she no longer wanted?
“I’m sure she would love for you to wear it. I know nothing would please me more, Nova,” Astrid tells me.
I’m torn. I want it, mostly because I’ve never had anything quite so lovely, but shouldn’t it be more important that it was my mom’s?
“I knew she was never coming back when I found it in her room.” Astrid sounds utterly devastated, which makes me feel horrible, so I decide to slip the heavy necklace and pendant over my head. When I look up, my grandmother’s eyes are glassy with unshed tears, but she’s smiling.
“Thank you, Nova.” Her words seem heartfelt, but her tone shifts immediately when she adds, “You should probably be going. We don’t want you to be late.” She leaves the room before I can reply.
I tell myself it’s because she got emotional, but something about the exchange feels off. When I stand, the weight of the pendant bounces between my breasts. The shiny white metal and gems look out of place over my shirt, so I tuck the chain under my collar and adjust the necklace so it’s barely visible around my neck.
“Try not to cause too much trouble,” Alden tells me under his breath after opening the main entrance for me at school. I don’t bother responding, especially after he accused me of antagonizing Morningstar yesterday when all I did was respond to his nastiness.
I find the administration office easily. It’s almost directly across from the library on the main floor, just as Astrid said it would be. The young woman behind the reception desk greets me with a smile that quickly falls as her eyes roam over me. “May I help you?”
Dang, maybe I should have worn the stuff Tabby left. She’s looking at me the same way I probably looked at the homeless guy who hung out at the bus stop all the time—part dread, part abhorrence.
“I have an appointment with” —I look down at the paper to make sure I get the name correct— “Bella Quade.”
Her eyes narrow as she turns to the side to pick up a desk phone. She keeps her voice soft, but I can still hear her one-sided conversation. “Mrs. Quade, there’s someone here who says they have an appointment with you?” She sounds doubtful. “Sure, I can show her back.” The girl peeks over at me again with that same suspicion, but there’s curiosity now too.
After hanging up, she stands and straightens her shirt over her flat stomach before pushing her chair in. “Right this way.” She doesn’t wait for me to even round the desk before taking off down a long hallway in her flirty flare skirt and heels.
There’s a tiny piece of me that wants to pull the pendant out of my shirt to see if it would change her attitude, but it’s a fleeting thought. That’s not who I am or who I want to be, though it would be nice to fit in for once.
“Are you applying for a scholarship?” she asks without even looking backwards.
“No,” I respond without divulging anything else. I’m sure she’ll know everything she wants to about me in no time flat, whether it’s true or not.
She makes a humming sound, then finally stops at a wooden door that looks exactly like all the others evenly spaced down the hall, but this one has a gold plaque that reads, “Isabella Quade, Director of Admissions,” in a bold script.
“Here you go, she’s expecting you.” She does a game show pivot and brushes past me, just avoiding bumping my shoulder in the process.
I watch her walk away, thinking about telling her to shove her attitude up her butt, but I keep my mouth shut, knock politely on the door, and wait for a reply.
“It’s open,” comes a feminine voice.
With one deep, calming breath, I turn the knob and enter the room, remembering Alden told me none of the families get along, but the Morningstars don’t hide it. I have no idea how this person is going to react to me, considering she will know exactly who I am.
“Nova,” she greets, rising and extending her hand for me to shake. I grip her fingers and release quickly before she offers me a seat in front of her desk with a wave of her hand.
After taking her own seat, her eyes roam over my face while a soft smile plays on her mouth. “Wow, you have your father’s eyes, that’s for sure.”
“You knew him?” The question comes without thought.
“Not well, but I did.” Her features shift a little, causing her forehead to wrinkle. “What happened was tragic.”
“Yeah,” I agree without much feeling behind the sentiment. It’s not the first time someone has used those exact words to describe the accident that killed my parents and almost me, but tragic doesn’t feel like a big enough word, nothing does.
“But you’re here at Cadieux, and I know Astrid is just tickled.” Is that sarcasm in her tone?
“I’m certainly here.”
There’s this long pause where neither of us know how to continue before she looks down at some papers on her desk to remind her why I’m sitting in her office. “I don’t usually handle scheduling, but we want to get you into class as soon as possible,” she tells me as if she’s doing me a favor. “I have your transcripts. Am I understanding you were in an accelerated credit program so you could graduate on time?”
“Yes, I missed a lot of school after the accident.”
“Understandable. What are your strengths and interests?” Mrs. Quade gets right down to business after the awkward initial meeting, and we spend the next half hour discussing class options and getting me set up in the system so I can do a few placement tests. I have no doubt I’ll be in the low classes with all the freshmen, even though I’m older. These kids all probably came from private schools, but I’ll eventually catch up…hopefully.
“The library is right across the hall. I already reserved a study room for you to get started on testing. The sooner you get them done, the sooner we can get you into the appropriate classes,” she tells me as if I’m going to go over there and twiddle my thumbs.
“Thank you,” I tell her, rising as she hands me a sticky note with my student number and temporary login credentials.
“Let me know if you need assistance figuring anything out,” she tells me as I’m leaving, and I don’t know if she’s genuinely willing to help, or if it’s her subtle way of reminding me I’m clueless.
I feel the girl at the reception desk eye me as I leave the office and head over to the library. There are several more people in the Union than there were this morning when I entered the office. I ignore them and hurry across the hall, but before I can reach the door, someone steps in front of me.
“If it isn’t Charity,” he drawls slowly, pleased with himself. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where I was going to be today. I’m certain his presence isn’t an accident. I told myself I would ignore him the next time we met, because I knew there would be a next time, and it would just be easier if I didn’t make myself a target for him, but the moment I hear his little moniker for me, my good intentions go out the window.
“Couldn’t wait to see me again, pretty boy?” I don’t meet his eyes, I don’t even look up, which means I get a good view of his upper chest and neck. His shirt is black today, but it’s still tight enough that I can see the barbells through his nipples outlined by the fabric and the tattoos that seem to cover almost every inch of him but his face. I thought rich guys wore pressed pants and loafers, not dark jeans and boots.
He takes another step closer to me. He’s trying to get me to back up, but my feet remain planted on the ground. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little frightened. Even the hair on my arms is standing up as if my body can sense the barely restrained violence coming from him.
I’ve never been in a fight. I would probably crumple like a sack of potatoes if someone hit me, but I still can’t back down. He’s close enough now that I can smell his cologne and feel the heat coming off his body, and it does nothing to alleviate the tension tightening my back and shoulders.
I should try to get around him, but I know he would stop me, so I just stand here, waiting for whatever it is he wants to say or do. His hand moves, and I flinch, but he just gently touches my chin and lifts it, forcing me to look up at him.
Our eyes lock, and I know he can read the question in my gaze. What could you possibly want with me? His expression is much harder to read, so I give up trying.
“Go home, Charity. No one wants you here.”
The words sting, but I try really hard not to let it show. I can feel people gathering around us, but not one of them steps up to break us apart, not that I expected it anyway. I’ve seen my fair share of public fights, physical and otherwise, and everyone loves to witness the train wreck as long as it’s not them who’s getting clobbered.
“It should be fairly easy for you and everyone else to ignore me then, pretty boy.” I blink slowly before jerking my head back so he’s no longer touching me, but we’re still in a stare off.
“Nova, there you are.” Rory’s voice is hard and tight, despite his words seeming to convey his relief. I still don’t back away from Morningstar. It would be a sign of weakness I can’t afford if I want him to leave me the heck alone.
“I was hoping I would catch you.” Rory comes over so he’s standing right next to me, but he turns his attention toward the man in front of me. “Lucian, I didn’t know you attended class on Mondays, or any day for that matter.” My grandfather wraps his arm around my shoulders and guides me away from the immoveable wall apparently named Lucian.
It’s not until we’re in the library that Rory releases his hold on me. His reaction to Morningstar being in my face confirms that I should stay as far away from him as possible, but I have a feeling our encounters are only just getting started.
