Pretty Reckless (All Saints High #1)(58)

“Wow.” I walk around it, deliberate and placid. “That is horrifyingly ugly.”

I raise my eyes to meet hers, and I’m smirking. I’m smirking because, as it turns out, she doesn’t know me after all. If she thinks she can buy her way into my heart with fancy things, she obviously misread me. Sure, I like my designer collection of dresses, shoes, and bags, and I have expensive tastes—maybe not as expensive as Knight’s, but definitely more upmarket than Vaughn’s and Luna’s—but I don’t need it. Materialistic things don’t excite me. I like them because they’re there and available. Because they’re a calorie-free treat.

Melody’s smile collapses like a straw house in the wind, and she blinks back at me. I think she is about to cry but find it hard to care. She brought my nightmare into my house without even warning me. She made it so perfectly clear that she is not half as impressed with me as she is with my sister.

“I think it’s amazing, Mom.” Bailey rushes to console our mother, hugging her tight. “Don’t worry. It’ll grow on Daria.”

Via looks around and tentatively joins Mel and Bailey, rubbing Mel’s back the same way she did mine this afternoon.

“Yes, Mrs. Followhill. I’m sure she is just shocked.”

“I’m not shocked. I’m a little offended she’d think I’d voluntarily drive this thing. It looks like a giant clitoris.”

Penn bursts out laughing, and Dad reluctantly joins him even though he tries to cover his mouth with his fist. They elbow each other to stop, but it does nothing more than throw them into a rowdier version of hysterics.

Bailey’s eyes widen, and Via somehow manages to fake a blush. Great. I’m uniting them against me. Via must be thrilled. She is probably inwardly dancing the cha-cha.

Mel looks up at me, her eyes glistening. She pays no attention to Via and Bailey, who are fussing around her, but it’s too late. The damage has been done.

“What do you want from me, Daria?” she asks, so quiet I can barely hear her.

“Nothing.”

Everything.

“What can I do to make you happy? To get to you?” The plea in her voice is so shrill, it’s tearing me apart. And for a moment, I actually believe her. Until I remember she put me in a school where she screwed her student, brought me a brooding, angry, hot foster brother, then his even angrier, batshit crazy sister, who is my enemy, then ignored and belittled my existence for four years to a point where, at times, I wondered if I was even real anymore.

“Is my party still on for this weekend?” I pretend not to catch the true meaning of her words. I can’t break down in front of all those people.

“Yes, but that’s not what I…”

“Thanks, Mel! Good luck selling this thing. Don’t they say that a vehicle loses half its worth the minute it rolls off the lot?”

I bounce out of the garage, leaving them behind. I close the door to my room, shoving back the bitterness at not being able to go downstairs to the studio and cry myself to sleep privately because Via’s got the entire place to herself. I fling myself onto my bed, grab my phone, and message Principal Prichard, who is saved under “Prince” on my phone. I have a feeling I’m going back to tri-weekly meetings with him at this rate.

I need to see you. I’m desperate.

I’ve never seen him off school grounds, but I don’t know who else to turn to. My friends are fake, Knight and Vaughn will give me the third degree, dragging Dad into this will only put more strain on his relationship with Mel, and Bailey is amazing, but she is too young and too sweet to understand all those dark feelings swirling inside me.





Tomorrow.


I can’t wait until tomorrow.

He types. You made me wait long enough the past couple of weeks. Tomorrow.

My head falls against my pillows, and I close my eyes, sighing. Shit. I was in la-la land, all-consumed with everything Penn Scully, and was able to dodge Principal Prichard’s many advances. He knew better than to hunt me down in a way that would be too obvious.

When I hear my door pushed open, I’m expecting Melody or Dad. Maybe Bailey with her na?ve Hallmark words of wisdom. But Penn stands in my doorway with his elbow braced against the doorframe. His white V-neck rides up and shows off his incredible V, leading like an arrow to his groin.

“Are you going to ignore me for the rest of your life?”

I blink at the ceiling, desperate not to let my traitorous eyes slip to his face. I’m already suffering from PPSD. Post-Penn Scully Disorder. “That’s the plan.”

“Always knew you were a pussy. Nice to get valid proof.”

Eat shit, Scully. I’ll give you a second serving, too.

“I thought we established I had a pussy the other day.”

“There she is. Hideous little sarcastic monster that you are.”

“Why are you here, hood rat?” I huff.

“To talk it out.” He steps into my room and closes the door behind him. I glance at him, just to make sure I didn’t imagine the click. A smile kisses my scowling lips.

“My dad is going to kill you if he finds out you closed the door.”

“Best of luck to your dad trying to catch my ass,” he shoots back, unblinking. I right myself and press my back against the headboard. I allow myself an ounce of optimism. Maybe he cares.