Bad, Bad Bluebloods (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #2)(6)
Pushing off from the wall, I take off down the street, and I finish my plans.
The morning of my sixteenth birthday, I wake up to fresh coffee and a package neatly wrapped in brown butcher paper. Dad’s even added a pink ribbon to the top. He grins at me as I sit down on the couch with my mug, finishing a gulp of milky, sugary goodness before I set the cup aside to open the gift.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I say, feeling guilty that I haven’t told him about the money I won. I should just give it all to Dad; he deserves it. Instead, I’m keeping it in case of emergency. And how sad is that, that I expect emergencies during my second year of high school? This should be my time to study, to make music, to make friends. Instead, I’m just … trying to upset the ancient social hierarchy of classism?
I’ve kinda got my work cut out for me.
“Yeah, well,” Dad starts, running his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. He nods his chin in the direction of the package, and I start to unwrap it. His voice is so soft, surprisingly gentle. “Your dad got some news last night.” Zack told me that the day Dad got drunk during Parents’ Week. And yet, I still don’t know what it is. “I hope you like it, honey.”
I’d like it best if it was a jar of blue blood and tears from the Idols.
“I’m sure I will,” I tell him as I get the ribbon and paper off, opening the box to find mounds of tissue paper. Inside, a blue velvet box is nestled, and when I crack it open, I find Grandma June’s antique bracelet. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been obsessed with this thing. It’s always hung on Dad’s side of the bed, and I can remember countless times that I’ve walked in and found him, head bent over, fingers rubbing the little copper charms. There are four of them: a tiny steam train, a loaf of bread, a dress, and a baby. But one charm was always missing, right in the center: all that remains is a tiny ring where it used to hang. Now, that ring has something else dangling from it: Dad’s wedding band.
“What …?” I start, holding the bracelet up. It’s clearly been polished to a shine, the dull patina gone, the copper gleaming as I hold it up to the light. “Why are you giving me this?” My eyes drift to Dad’s, but he’s completely unreadable. He tucks his hands in the pockets of his jeans and forces a smile.
“You should have a piece of our family history with you. It’ll give you strength.” My mouth opens, but no words come out. How am I supposed to respond to that? “Are you sure you want to go back to that awful school?”
A groan escapes me, and I look away, clutching the bracelet in my palm.
“The academy will set me up for the best possible future—” I start, but Dad cuts me off, coming over to kneel beside me. He puts his hand on my knee, and I turn back to look at him.
“Don’t go back to that school for boys, Marnye,” he says, voice rough. He almost sounds like he’s pleading with me, and my heart hurts. “Just don’t do it. And … don’t go back because you think you have something to prove.”
“I …” How can I really respond to that? Is that what I’m doing? Going back to prove myself? To exact revenge? Or is it really because I want the best academic career possible? I can’t even answer that question for myself, so how can I tell Dad what’s going on inside me?
“You could move in with your mother, and go to Grenadine Heights High—”
My turn to cut him off.
“Move in with Jennifer?” I choke out, pulling away and pushing my body into the worn couch cushions, as if putting distance between me and Charlie will erase his suggestion from the air. “I barely know her.”
“Marnye,” Dad says, uncurling my palm and taking the bracelet. He puts it on my wrist as I sit there, staring at him like he’s grown a second head. “I’m not saying your mother hasn’t made mistakes in the past, but she’s really trying here. She wants to get to know you.”
“The feeling is not mutual,” I reply, pulling my arm to my chest and playing with the bracelet. “I’m not giving up my scholarship because of some bullying.”
“That was more than just bullying, Marnye. Those boys—” My eyes close and Dad stops talking, like he can see how pained just the mention of that day makes me. “Look, you’re a smart girl, always have been. You’re more driven than I ever was, smarter, too. If you want to go back there, I won’t question it, but know that you have other options.” Dad sighs and rises to his feet, pausing at a knock on the door. “That should be Zack,” he says, and my eyes go wide.
I rise from the couch, but I’m not fast enough to get past before Zack Brooks steps into the trailer, dressed in a tight black tee that pulls across his muscles, dark denim jeans, and brown boots. He stares at me from those dark brown eyes of his, gaze flickering over my black leggings, tight black tank, and total lack of bra, before he returns his attention to my face.
“Happy birthday,” he says, but it’s hard to take him seriously when he made it his mission to see that I would never have another birthday again.
“Excuse me.” I push past the two men, being careful not to even brush against Zack, and get dressed in one of my new outfits from yesterday. May as well test it out on him before heading back to that den of wolves.
If Dad notices that I’m wearing a new pink jumpsuit and black wedges, he doesn’t say anything. If he asks, I’ll … well, I won’t lie about it. But he doesn’t. Zack takes me in carefully, my new hairdo, the bit of makeup I managed to put on with a YouTube tutorial, and my eyelash extensions. Didn’t even know that was a thing until I Googled it.