“Oh,” Dean Smith says, clearly shocked. “I’m... I don’t know what to say.”
Stone takes my chin and moves my head until I’m looking straight into his eyes. “Do you see how easy it would be, Dakota? A few words to the dean and your scholarship is pulled. Say goodbye to that other life you dream of.”
I can still hear the voices of Lance and the dean in conversation, but it doesn’t matter what they’re saying anymore. Stone is right. They have all the power. “You’re despicable, and your father is even worse.”
“No, he’s a businessman. He makes decisions based on the good of all. You’re either an ally or you’re not.”
He skims his hand up my arms, past the patch Dickie placed on my shoulder after this morning’s “accident”. He lets his fingers roam all the way around the square pad. His light touches send goosebumps skittering over my skin, and I hate myself for it.
Stone’s lips part as he watches the invisible trail he makes, almost as if he can tell he’s marking me. “Meet us at Devil’s Hole tonight to give us your answer.”
Wyatt and Lucas release their hold on me, and the three of them turn to walk away. Lucas looks back at the last minute before they disappear around the corner. His brown eyes the color of caramel catch mine before looking away again.
Once they’re out of sight, I take in a deep breath. I move to the window, careful not to make any noise to see if Jacobs and Dean Smith are still talking, but I no longer hear their voices. It’s over. Just like that, whatever they decided is out of my control.
I rest my forehead against the stone underneath the weird screen, lifting my palms to place near my head. Why is this happening? First, my father. Now, my life is being infiltrated by the Jacobs.
I slap the stone with my open palm and stand straight again. It’s time for my next class and dwelling on how fucked my life has gotten isn’t helping at all.
I walk out of the secluded corner and immediately run into Dean Smith himself. My mouth drops when I see him, and instead of walking right by, he stops me. “Miss Wilder, I was just about to pull you out of class.” He gives me a look, knowing full well I should be in class right now on the other side of the building.
“I um...” I clear my throat. “I felt sick,” I say immediately. “I was just headed that way.”
“Come with me first.” I follow Dean Smith all the way to his office. He closes a huge wooden door and then instead of going over to the other side of his desk, he leans against it, facing me with a furrow in his brow. “Mr. Jacobs came to see me a little while ago. I’ve been informed you’re well acquainted with the family.”
I wouldn’t call it well acquainted, but that’s neither here nor there. I don’t think many people would understand the depths of distrust and hatred between the Wilders and the Jacobs. I swallow. Bowing my head, a grate catches my attention. The hole pattern matches the window I stood underneath. Well, at least I know where they met now. The not-so-private office of the dean.
“He’s made some serious claims against you. I want you to know that Saint Clary’s doesn’t allow bullying of any kind.” Dean Smith opens his hands. “I’m not going to pretend that I don’t know your situation, Dakota. Everyone who lives in Clary knows what happened to your dad, and I’m sure you’re struggling because of it, but bullying behavior is unacceptable.” He leans forward, hands on his knees. “Now, Mr. Jacobs says he’s been made aware of an incident that doesn’t hold you in the best light. He wasn’t specific but let me lend you some advice. If I were you, I’d make things right with him and his son. You’ve seen what it’s like to live your whole life in this town, and you have far greater potential than that, and not just because your last name is Wilder. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I blink. My mind shorted out when he said Mr. Jacobs is aware of an incident that doesn’t put me in the best light. “Did he say what the incident was?”
Dean Smith rubs his forehead. “He didn’t come right out and say it, but he hinted that it had to do with your stepbrother, Stone.” Dean Smith straightens, giving me a small smile. “Mr. Jacobs is a generous, well-esteemed man. I am sure you can rectify this so no action will have to be taken.”
Well, this is just rich. Lance and Stone have everyone fooled, and this is all about money. Dean Smith doesn’t care that no evidence of this “incident” even exists, yet he warns me anyway. Just the thought that Jacobs might pull his funding from Saint Clary’s is enough for the dean to lecture me.
Honestly, I shouldn’t be surprised. This is just another power play. Another push to get me to see that siding with them is ultimately the best choice. I stand abruptly, and Dean Smith reels back, blinking. I hold out my hand. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” I say, a lump forming in my throat. “I’ll make sure to deal with it.”
After we shake hands, I start for the door, but Dean Smith’s voice pulls me up short. “And Dakota, I hope whatever incident Mr. Jacobs is referring to doesn’t get out. We know about the gossip that goes around Clary, don’t we? I think the Wilders have had their fair share. You don’t need another reason to have the town talking.”
I don’t even dignify his statement with an answer. Because, of course, why not send me off with
