Uninvited (Uninvited, #1)(17)

I take careful measures to be on time, but not too early the next day. I don’t want to be caught alone with anyone. Definitely not Mr. Brockman, but not any of the other students, either.

Sean, of course, I knew, wouldn’t arrive until later. For whatever reason, that was his pattern. I keep my head down, eyes averted as I slide into my desk. It doesn’t matter though. I eventually have to look up, and the first time I do it’s like Coco has been waiting. Her heavily lined eyes stare at me, unblinking. I feel the blood rush to my face.

I’m sorry, I mouth to her, not really knowing what to say except that.

She looks at me dully before shaking her head and looking away, like I somehow disgust her.

I wish I could rub out the image of her with Brockman from my eyes . . . erase the knowledge from my mind. I haven’t allowed the horror of it to fully sink in. Maybe the horrors of the last few days have numbed me to something so horrible and shocking.

An hour into the morning, and an office aide drops off some manila folders.

Brockman enters the Cage to hand them out. The pair in the back sigh heavily as they take their folders. He stops by my desk and holds out my folder to me. I’m paranoid about looking Brockman in the face. I’ve been dreading it. I try to take the folder, but he doesn’t release it, holds it hostage until I look up at him.

His gaze is intent. “Doing okay, Davy?”

I nod. The grapefruit-sized lump in my throat prevents me from speaking.

He continues, “Settling in? Everyone treating you well?”

I can only stare. He leans down and it takes everything inside me not to arch away. I guess it’s my innate politeness—drilled into me ever since I could tie my own shoes. Ironic. I’m here because of my inherent dangerousness, but it’s my inherent politeness that makes me put up with this. With him.

He grasps my shoulder, squeezes. And I see that hand as I saw it yesterday. Nails blunt-tipped, chewed up to the quick. My stomach rolls. Bile rises in my throat.

“I’m here for you . . . if you ever want to talk. I’ve got your back.” He smiles. It’s patronizing at best. What I really see lurking in the curve of his lips is the smug knowledge that he knows I know that I’m at his mercy.

I dismiss the idea of reporting him. I know enough to know that I lack any credibility. My word won’t matter. I remember my conversation with Mitchell. It’s like he said. I just have to make it through May. After that, I’ll figure out what comes next. Clearly it’s not Juilliard anymore. Everton will notify them of my expulsion. That dream is dead. But not every dream. Zac flashes in my mind. No. Not all of them.

I find my voice. “Thanks. But I’m fine.”

He angles his head and sets my folder on my desk. “Really?” The single word carries doubt.

I lift my chin, determined to convince him that I’m fine and will never have need for his particular type of friendship. “Everything is good. I like it here.” Maybe I went a bit far with that last part, but it’s almost worth it to see the flicker of surprise cross his face.

He lets go of my shoulder and straightens. “I see. Well. Good. Good.”

He didn’t believe me for a second. There’s a glint of annoyance in his eyes before he turns away and moves on to Gil. I almost smile.

Until I see Coco, twisting around in her chair. “You think you’re so smart?” she whispers and, even though she’s whispering, her voice falls hard.

But there’s something in her eyes. A vulnerability, a fear, that gives me pause. I shake my head. “No. I don’t—”

“Keep your paws off Brockman.”

“You don’t seriously think I would let him touch me?”

Her dark eyes flash and I know I offended her. Hot color creeps up her caramel-hued cheeks. “Oh. You’re so good, aren’t you? Better than me, is that it?”

“No—”

Her knuckles whiten where they clutch the desk. “We’ll see what you think after a month in here. Just remember what I said. Stay away from Brockman. Find someone else.”

Before I can respond that I don’t need anyone, she faces the front again.

What happened to her to make her think she needs to surrender to Brockman? My jaw locks. Whatever it is, I vow to never let that happen to me.

Opening the folder, I try to focus on my assignments, the chorus of AC/DC’s “Back in Black” weaving inside my head. Right now, I could use some serenity. A wadded ball of paper hits me in the head. Touching my hair, I turn around and glare. Nathan blows me a kiss and throws another paper ball that I jerk to the side to avoid.

With a huff, I turn back around on my desk and study the assignments. They’re a far cry from my usual workload, but I still need to get it done. The goal is that diploma. Even if it’s from the wrong school.

Even if I’m living the wrong life.





UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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* * *





Tori

Don’t bring her


Zac

Told u I have 2





EIGHT




I FINISH MY ASSIGNMENTS BEFORE LUNCH AND take my work to Brockman as I’ve watched the others do. I stand at the Cage door until he motions me through. He takes my manila folder from me and I stand there as he flips through my work like he knows what he’s looking at. Like he’s a real teacher.