King of Hawthorne Prep by Jennifer Sucevic

Author:Jennifer Sucevic [Sucevic, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-16T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

As soon as the last bell rings, I rush to my locker and grab my backpack, along with the white uniform blouse that hangs from the hook inside. I beeline to the bathroom and lock myself in a stall before stripping off the stupid shirt Kingsley forced me to wear.

He still hasn’t returned my bra. What does he plan to do? Steal them every day? After a week, I’ll run out. Not that he would care.

It’s a relief when I slip the last button through the hole and tuck the hem of my shirt into my skirt before sliding my arms into the blazer. I’ve never been so happy in my life to wear a school uniform.

Thank God this horrific day is over, and I can finally get the hell out of here.

No more Kingsley.

With my backpack hoisted over my shoulder, I push out of the bathroom and into the crowded hallway. Students linger in small clusters, chatting and laughing. No one pays me any attention. A look here and there, but nothing more than that.

The moment I step outside, I inhale a fresh lungful of air and walk to the parking lot before weaving my way to the G-wagon. For the second day in a row, there aren’t eggs or shaving cream decorating the hood and windshield. The heavy coils of anxiety wrapping their way around me, loosen just a bit.

From the corner of my eye, I catch a group of girls staring. I turn my head more fully only to meet Sloane’s narrowed gaze. Four of her friends are standing with her. They’re all wearing matching bitchy expressions. These are the kind of girls I was careful to avoid back home. I had Sloane pegged from the first time I saw her at Rothchild’s and her behavior hasn’t disappointed.

When the blond continues to track me with her gaze, I flip her the bird. One of her clones sputters in disbelief as I stalk past. With a relieved huff, I click the locks on the SUV and slide behind the wheel. The pumping beat of alternative rock fills the cabin. Twenty minutes of this and I just might feel human again by the time I reach our house.

As I’m about to shift the gear into reverse, someone slaps their palm against the driver’s side window. Stifling a yelp of surprise, I swing around only to find icy blue eyes glaring at me.

Seriously?

Ugh.

This girl needs to get a life and leave me the hell alone.

When I don’t immediately roll down the glass, her scowl deepens, and she smacks her hand against it again.

What the fuck!

I’m surprised she didn’t shatter the window.

I stab the button with my finger and any semblance of safety disappears between us. “What the hell is your problem?”

“You,” she snarls in response. “You’re my problem.”

“How exactly am I your problem?” Before she can answer, I continue. “Did I follow you to your car like a stalker before accosting you?” I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so.

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