Twisted Palace
Page 11
Only Easton is waiting for me on the front steps when I arrive from the bakery. I frown, because usually Reed is with him, but my man is nowhere to be seen. It’s clear by the acre of space around Easton that the Astor Park kids are all up-to-date on their daily news. Any other day and this gorgeous boy would be surrounded by girls.
“What’d you bring me, sis?” Easton jogs over to snatch the white pastry box from my hands.
“Donuts, muffins.” I look around again. “Where’s Reed?”
Easton doesn’t look up from his examination of the goodie box, so I can’t make out his expression. I do notice that his shoulders tense up a little. “Talking to Coach,” is all he says.
“Oh. Okay. Like, a meeting or something?”
“Or something.”
I narrow my eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Before he can respond, Val comes strolling over to us.
“Hey, girl!” She flings an arm around my shoulder. Either she hasn’t read the papers yet or doesn’t care. I’m hoping it’s the latter.
“Hey, Val.” As I greet her, I don’t miss the relief on Easton’s face. He’s definitely keeping something from me.
Val’s gaze falls to the box in Easton’s hand. “Tell me you have something for me,” she begs.
“Chocolate chip muffin.” I smile wryly as she grabs the muffin and takes a huge bite. “Bad morning?”
“You have no idea. Jordan’s alarm went off at five this morning and she slept through Katy Perry’s “Rise” for five repeats. I officially hate Katy Perry and Jordan.”
“That’s what makes you hate Jordan?” In the chronicles of mean girls, Jordan Carrington might be the patron saint. There are so many things to hate her for other than her music taste.
Val laughs. “Among other things. Anyway, you’re a goddess. And a trooper, because your morning must be a million times worse than mine.”
I frown at her. “What do you mean?”
She raises one eyebrow, which gives her already pixie-like face an even more elfish look. “I mean, Reed beating up Ronald Richmond at practice. Everyone’s talking about it and it only happened an hour ago.”
My jaw drops. Then I spin around to glare at Easton. “Reed beat someone up? Why didn’t you tell me?”
He smiles around a mouthful of pastry, and I’m force to wait until he swallows before I get a reply. “Because it’s no biggie, okay? Richmond was running his mouth and Reed put a stop to it. He didn’t even get suspended or anything. Coach just gave him a warning—”
I’m already marching to the front doors. I can’t believe Reed got into a fight and Easton didn’t tell me about it!
“Wait up,” Val calls out.
I stop to let her catch up to me, then take off at a brisk pace again. Maybe I can intercept Reed before he goes to his first class. I know he can handle himself in a fight, but I want to see him with my own two eyes and make sure he’s okay.
“I saw the paper this morning,” Val says in a quiet voice as she keeps up with my breakneck strides. “My aunt and uncle were talking about it. Things are bad in the Royal palace, huh?”
“Badder than bad,” I admit.
We’re halfway to the senior wing when the first bell chimes. Crap. I skid to a stop, torn between hurrying forward to find Reed and making it to class on time. Val solves the dilemma by touching my arm.
“If he’s already in class, his teacher won’t let you go in and talk to him,” she points out.
She’s right. My shoulders sag as I turn back in the opposite direction. Again, Val keeps up with me.
“Ella.”
I keep walking.
“Ella. Come on. Wait.” She grabs my arm again, and there’s concern etched into her face as she studies me. “He didn’t kill anyone.”
I can’t even begin to explain how relieved I am to hear her say that. My own doubts about Reed’s innocence have been gnawing at my insides ever since he got arrested. I hate myself for even entertaining those thoughts, but every time I close my eyes, I remember his torn stitches. The blood. The fact that he went to the penthouse without telling me.
“Of course he didn’t,” I force myself to say.
Her gaze sharpens. “Then why do you look so worried?”
“I’m not worried.” I hope my firm tone is convincing. I think it is, because her features relax. “It’s just…everything is such a mess right now, Val. Reed’s arrest, Steve showing up—”
“What?” she exclaims.
It takes me a second to remember that I haven’t even told her about my father yet. I didn’t want to say it over text, and there wasn’t a single opportunity to call Val yesterday because of all the chaos in the house.
“Yeah. Steve’s back. Surprise—he’s not dead, after all.”
Val looks a bit dazed. “You’re joking, right?”
“Nope.” Before I can elaborate, the second bell rings. This is the one that warns us we have one minute to get to class—or else. “I’ll explain everything at lunch, okay?”
She nods slowly, the stunned expression never leaving her face. We part ways at the next hallway, and I head for my first class.
Within three seconds of sitting down at my desk for first period, I discover that Val isn’t the only one who’s seen the morning paper. When the teacher turns her back on the class for a moment, some douche leans past two desks to shout-whisper, “You can come live at my house, Ella, if you’re scared of being murdered in your bed.”
I ignore him.
“Or maybe that’s what turns your type on.”
When I first arrived at Astor Park, I learned pretty fast that most of the kids here aren’t worth my time or effort. This campus is so gorgeous with its lush green lawns and tall brick buildings. It looks picture perfect, but it’s filled with the unhappiest, least secure teens I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.
I swivel in my chair, lean across Bitsy Hamilton’s desk, and stare directly into the douche’s muddy green eyes. “What’s your name?”
He blinks. “What?”
“Your name,” I repeat impatiently. “What is it?”
Bitsy raises a hand to hide a smirk.
The douche’s face twists into an indignant sneer. “Aspen,” he replies tightly.
“What’d you bring me, sis?” Easton jogs over to snatch the white pastry box from my hands.
“Donuts, muffins.” I look around again. “Where’s Reed?”
Easton doesn’t look up from his examination of the goodie box, so I can’t make out his expression. I do notice that his shoulders tense up a little. “Talking to Coach,” is all he says.
“Oh. Okay. Like, a meeting or something?”
“Or something.”
I narrow my eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Before he can respond, Val comes strolling over to us.
“Hey, girl!” She flings an arm around my shoulder. Either she hasn’t read the papers yet or doesn’t care. I’m hoping it’s the latter.
“Hey, Val.” As I greet her, I don’t miss the relief on Easton’s face. He’s definitely keeping something from me.
Val’s gaze falls to the box in Easton’s hand. “Tell me you have something for me,” she begs.
“Chocolate chip muffin.” I smile wryly as she grabs the muffin and takes a huge bite. “Bad morning?”
“You have no idea. Jordan’s alarm went off at five this morning and she slept through Katy Perry’s “Rise” for five repeats. I officially hate Katy Perry and Jordan.”
“That’s what makes you hate Jordan?” In the chronicles of mean girls, Jordan Carrington might be the patron saint. There are so many things to hate her for other than her music taste.
Val laughs. “Among other things. Anyway, you’re a goddess. And a trooper, because your morning must be a million times worse than mine.”
I frown at her. “What do you mean?”
She raises one eyebrow, which gives her already pixie-like face an even more elfish look. “I mean, Reed beating up Ronald Richmond at practice. Everyone’s talking about it and it only happened an hour ago.”
My jaw drops. Then I spin around to glare at Easton. “Reed beat someone up? Why didn’t you tell me?”
He smiles around a mouthful of pastry, and I’m force to wait until he swallows before I get a reply. “Because it’s no biggie, okay? Richmond was running his mouth and Reed put a stop to it. He didn’t even get suspended or anything. Coach just gave him a warning—”
I’m already marching to the front doors. I can’t believe Reed got into a fight and Easton didn’t tell me about it!
“Wait up,” Val calls out.
I stop to let her catch up to me, then take off at a brisk pace again. Maybe I can intercept Reed before he goes to his first class. I know he can handle himself in a fight, but I want to see him with my own two eyes and make sure he’s okay.
“I saw the paper this morning,” Val says in a quiet voice as she keeps up with my breakneck strides. “My aunt and uncle were talking about it. Things are bad in the Royal palace, huh?”
“Badder than bad,” I admit.
We’re halfway to the senior wing when the first bell chimes. Crap. I skid to a stop, torn between hurrying forward to find Reed and making it to class on time. Val solves the dilemma by touching my arm.
“If he’s already in class, his teacher won’t let you go in and talk to him,” she points out.
She’s right. My shoulders sag as I turn back in the opposite direction. Again, Val keeps up with me.
“Ella.”
I keep walking.
“Ella. Come on. Wait.” She grabs my arm again, and there’s concern etched into her face as she studies me. “He didn’t kill anyone.”
I can’t even begin to explain how relieved I am to hear her say that. My own doubts about Reed’s innocence have been gnawing at my insides ever since he got arrested. I hate myself for even entertaining those thoughts, but every time I close my eyes, I remember his torn stitches. The blood. The fact that he went to the penthouse without telling me.
“Of course he didn’t,” I force myself to say.
Her gaze sharpens. “Then why do you look so worried?”
“I’m not worried.” I hope my firm tone is convincing. I think it is, because her features relax. “It’s just…everything is such a mess right now, Val. Reed’s arrest, Steve showing up—”
“What?” she exclaims.
It takes me a second to remember that I haven’t even told her about my father yet. I didn’t want to say it over text, and there wasn’t a single opportunity to call Val yesterday because of all the chaos in the house.
“Yeah. Steve’s back. Surprise—he’s not dead, after all.”
Val looks a bit dazed. “You’re joking, right?”
“Nope.” Before I can elaborate, the second bell rings. This is the one that warns us we have one minute to get to class—or else. “I’ll explain everything at lunch, okay?”
She nods slowly, the stunned expression never leaving her face. We part ways at the next hallway, and I head for my first class.
Within three seconds of sitting down at my desk for first period, I discover that Val isn’t the only one who’s seen the morning paper. When the teacher turns her back on the class for a moment, some douche leans past two desks to shout-whisper, “You can come live at my house, Ella, if you’re scared of being murdered in your bed.”
I ignore him.
“Or maybe that’s what turns your type on.”
When I first arrived at Astor Park, I learned pretty fast that most of the kids here aren’t worth my time or effort. This campus is so gorgeous with its lush green lawns and tall brick buildings. It looks picture perfect, but it’s filled with the unhappiest, least secure teens I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.
I swivel in my chair, lean across Bitsy Hamilton’s desk, and stare directly into the douche’s muddy green eyes. “What’s your name?”
He blinks. “What?”
“Your name,” I repeat impatiently. “What is it?”
Bitsy raises a hand to hide a smirk.
The douche’s face twists into an indignant sneer. “Aspen,” he replies tightly.
