No one knows better than me that my family is screwed up, but that doesn’t give people the right to point that shit out.
Or … create an entire exposé, for the express purpose of humiliating me today.
I’m nearly to him now, and I have every intention to wipe that smug grin clean off him, but a familiar face pokes her head out of the counselling office, creating a barrier between West and me.
“Ms. Riley? My office, please.” Her timing is impeccable, but then I wonder if that isn’t the point. Perhaps Dr. Pryor is trying to save me from myself.
I halt, taking longer to do as she’s asked, but I remind myself why I’m here, why I’m letting this pissant get away with this crap.
If doing it for yourself isn’t enough, do it for Scar.
“Ms. Riley?” Dr. Pryor steps out of the doorframe completely, volleying a look between me and the guys, then stares me down as she crosses both arms over her chest. The glare she shoots me next is stern, and I know she isn’t playing.
Casting West a look that could kill, I brush by Dr. Pryor rougher than I mean to, and pass through the small waiting area before dropping down in the seat across from her desk. She rounds the corner of it, still giving me a look, and then takes her seat, too.
She pushes the length of dark dreadlocks over the shoulder of her gray blazer. She’s always super stern, but has also made more than one exception for me, so I like her well enough.
Rage burns through my veins at warp speed, which is precisely the reason my knee is bouncing like crazy. More than anything, I want to tear West’s eyes right out of the sockets. That’s about the only thing that will settle me.
“Mind telling me what this is all about?”
“Short version?” I snap. “That prick, W—”
I can’t get his name out. Not because I care about protecting him, but because of what I suspect about the way things run around here. If West or his family have enough pull, whatever I say will only make things worse.
Dr. Pryor’s brow quirks. “It looked like you were ready to pounce on West Golden a moment ago. Do I need to have him step in here to get some answers?”
Despite wanting to snitch on that tool more than I want my next breath, I suppress it all.
“No, ma’am,” I mumble under my breath.
The way Dr. Pryor purses her lips tightly suggests she’s unamused, but I’m not forced to say more than that.
“I’ve reviewed the surveillance content from earlier this morning. Looks like a group of ten slipped in wearing dark hoodies and plastered their paraphernalia all over the place. They were a little on the small side, so my guess is that the culprits are either a group of girls, or perhaps just underclassmen.”
That bastard is smart. He and his boys are larger than life, which means anyone who saw the footage would immediately know who was behind this. So, he used his status here to his advantage, coaxing others into doing his dirty work.
“A small crew from the custodial team are on their way to clean up the … artwork in the hallway. And since you seem determined not to share what you know, now seems like as good a time as any to discuss another pressing issue.”
When she folds her hands on her desk, my heart sinks. No good conversation ever starts that way.
“With the incident that took place before you left South Cypress, it’s made the job of helping you secure your future a bit more difficult, but it’s not a lost cause.”
I flex my once-fractured knuckle with the reminder, then stare as Dr. Pryor reaches for a file with my first and last name printed on the tab. She begins to pour through the stack of documents inside, while I sit wondering what this is about.
“I know this must have come up before now, but I don’t have anything on file regarding your plans to pay for college. You were accepted to Cypress Valley University, which is a great school, but I see nothing about covering expenses beyond what you’ll be able to acquire with financial aid. Am I missing something?”
Her question deserves an answer; I simply don’t have one.
When the stretch of silence between us grows, Dr. Pryor sighs and eventually closes the folder.
“Listen, Ms. Riley. I’m aware you’ve had a rough go at life, but I know a little more about that than you might think,” she shares. “Branch Street, born and raised.”
My eyes flash toward hers curiously. “That’s only a few blocks from my house. You lived there?”
She nods, and that stern look softens a little. “I was the first in my family to attend college, and I swore that once I finished I’d find some way to make a difference in that community, give kids from the south side a chance no one else is willing to offer. It’s the whole reason I started this program.”
Before this, I knew she was invested, but had no clue she was the founder of the program itself.
“So, while you might feel a little like a fish out of water here, know you’re not in this alone. I’m doing everything in my power to help you, but you have to meet me halfway.”
Another dim smile brightens her face, and it’s then that I realize she’s actually beautiful. Not at all the wicked witch I assumed she’d be, based solely on the fact that I naturally conclude such things about authority figures.
“I see here you played basketball all three previous years.”
Nodding, I agree. “That’s right.”
“I’m guessing you’ll be trying out while attending Cypress Prep as well?”
My lips part, but I choke on my words. In truth, I don’t want to spend the extra time out of the house, away from Scar. Last season, Mom and Hunter were still around, so that made a slight difference. However, now that they’re gone and
