All I've Never Wanted(15)

Roman's lips curved up into a small, triumphant smirk. "She won't last a week."

* * *

Well, D-Day was here. Surprisingly, it didn't feel particularly different than any other day as I trudged toward school, basking in the warmth of the sun against my skin and letting it comfort me. But then again, that could be because I dreaded going to school every day anyway.

As I neared the school, however, my calmness left me little by little. I could feel about 10,000 butterflies fluttering away in my stomach, my heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest, and I might even possibly throw up. It didn't make it any better that Venice had contracted the flu over the weekend and wouldn't be able to come to school today.

Although, now that I think about it, it might be better if she wasn't here for the carnage that was about to ensue.

When I arrived at school, the parking lot was empty. This might be due to the fact I've arrived a full hour and a half early.


Ok, fine. I'm still a bit of a coward, but what else can I do? I've used up all my courage for the month Saturday night, and now, I wanted nothing more than to hide away in a place where no Valesca student would ever, ever go to: the library.

I stepped cautiously into the building, relieved but unsurprised to find the halls empty save for a lone janitor. It was the earliest I'd ever come in here, and I was suddenly struck by how beautiful the interior was when it uncluttered by the masses of students.

The floors were pure, unveined Italian marble, decorated with the giant forest green-and gold falcon school crest in the entrance hall. The "lockers" were built into the walls and looked more like high-tech cabinets; instead of clunky, ugly combination locks, they were secured by a small biometric pad where you press your thumb, making it quick and easy to get into the precious space (considering the extravagance of the items some kids threw in their lockers, 'precious' takes on a whole new meaning). Above them hung oil portraits of the school's many illustrious alumni, and enormous, glittering crystal chandeliers took the place of fluorescent lights.

Suddenly realizing I was in a bit of a stupor, I shook my head and mentally kicked myself for buying into Valesca's superficial perfection, even if it was only for a second.

I made my way into one of the wood-paneled elevators and pressed '3', staring at myself in the mirror.

I was wearing the female version of Valesca's uniform: a short-sleeve, white button-down shirt under a fitted green blazer with the school crest on the upper left side, a green and gold plaid skirt, and my own black ballet flats. The school's handbook never specified a specific shoe for the uniform, except that it had to be black, brown, and 'appropriate,' whatever the hell that meant.

The guys' uniform was the same, except with more masculine tops and green slacks instead of skirts. They also had to wear green-and-gold striped ties. All the uniforms were custom-made by Ralph Lauren, but I hated them. They made me feel constricted, conformed, and the last thing I wanted was to look anything like my classmates.

Of course, the only students exempt from the uniform rule were the Scions. And Adriana, I added silently, thinking about the gorgeous dress she'd worn yesterday. I still hadn't quite made up my mind about her yet. She was obviously cut from the same mold as her brother and his friends, and indulged in the same ridiculous privileges, but she also seemed…different, somehow. I just couldn't quite put my finger why.

The elevator let out a low, musical ping, announcing the arrival at my destination. As the doors slid open silently, I took a deep breath and pushed all thoughts of the Scions out of my mind. It didn't really matter if Adriana was different or not. It's not like we'll ever be friends. We just didn't come from the same world.

Since the library, which contained practically every book you could ever think of, dominated the entire third floor, I could enter it directly from the elevator. I stepped into the giant, hushed, bookworm's paradise, the silence enveloping me like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. I breathed in the comforting smell of leather-bound books, and managed to muster up a smile to flash at the elderly librarian.

I beelined past the checkout counter and bank of computers toward my favorite nook in the back, which consisted of a simple armchair and small table but had a picture window that provided the best view of the school's undeniably gorgeous, landscaped grounds.

I settled comfortably into the chair and pulled out my favorite book, Grapes of Wrath. I've literally read it a hundred times but I never got tired of it.

The next hour and a half flew by, and all too soon, the bell signaling the start of class rang shrilly, rudely jolting me from my book. A tight, familiar knot instantly formed in my stomach, and I felt myself freeze in my chair. I knew I should get moving, but my muscles wouldn't listen to me. It was like I'd been spontaneously paralyzed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the librarian cast a half-curious, half-disapproving glance in my direction, but I was so immersed in my panic I didn't care. I know everyone who hadn't witnessed my showdown with Roman Saturday night—and that number was small—would've definitely heard about it by now, and I wasn't looking forward to their harassment, which, judging from past cases, was inevitable.

I placed my book into my backpack and reluctantly trudged toward the elevator. My finger hesitated over the down button, until I pressed it firmly, quickly, before I could change my mind. The doors immediately opened, suddenly looking like the gates of hell.