This time, I have more than thirty messages from Valerie, along with several from Reed. I delete those without reading them. There are a few from Easton, but I suspect those are also from Reed, so I delete them, too. The other messages are from my boss, Lucy, the owner of The French Twist, a bakery close to Astor Park Prep. Those start out with concern and end with impatience.
But it’s Val’s messages that bring an uncomfortable knot to my stomach. I should’ve said something to her. I thought about it a lot while I was gone, but I was afraid. Not just that the Royals might weasel information out of her, but also because she was a link to something I wanted to forget. I feel bad about how I treated her, though. If she up and disappeared, I’d be pissed.
I’m sorry. I’m the shittiest friend ever. Do you still want to talk to me?
I set the phone down and stare at the ceiling. To my surprise, the phone rings immediately. Val’s picture pops up.
I take a deep breath and answer it.
“Hey, Val.”
“Where have you been?” she shrieks. “I’ve called and called!”
I open my mouth to feed her the illness excuse, but her next words stop me.
“And don’t tell me that you were sick because no one is sick for two weeks and can’t even make a phone call! Well, unless she’s patient zero at the beginning of a zombie apocalypse.”
As I listen to her concerned words, I realize that this is a test of our friendship. Even after I seemingly ducked her calls for two weeks, she’s still accepting me back into her life. Yeah, she’s asking questions, but ones she deserves an answer to. She’s important. Important enough for an honest answer, no matter how embarrassing it is.
“I ran away,” I confess.
“Oh, Ella, no.” She sighs sadly. “What did those Royals do to you?”
I don’t want to lie to her. “I’m…not ready to talk about it. But I might have overreacted.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?” she asks, the hurt clear in every word.
“I didn’t think of it. I…something happened here and I got in my car, bought a bus ticket and left. The only thing in my mind was getting as far away from here as possible. It didn’t occur to me to come to you. I’m not used to relying on people. I’m sorry.”
She’s silent for a moment. “I’m still pissed at you.”
“You should be.”
“Are you coming to school today?”
“No. I got back late last night, so Callum’s giving me a day to get settled.”
“Fine. Then I’m skipping school and you’re coming over and telling me everything.”
“I’ll tell you what I can.” I don’t even want to think about the Brooke and Reed stuff anymore. I want to forget it happened. I want to forget that I opened my heart to Reed.
“I got shit to tell you, too,” she admits. “When can you come over?”
I check the clock. “An hour? I need to shower, eat, get dressed.”
“Sounds like a plan. Come to the back door otherwise my aunt will wonder why we aren’t at school.”
Val lives with her aunt so she can attend Astor Park. I’ve only met Val’s evil cousin, Jordan, and I guess the day that I play hooky isn’t the best time to introduce myself to the rest of her family.
“Roger. See you soon.”
I take a deep breath and call Lucy next. “Hey, Lucy. It’s Ella. I’m so sorry I disappeared on you like that. Can I come in this afternoon?”
“I’m sorry, too, but I can’t talk right now. It’s busy.” Lucy is curt, and I suddenly regret not going in the moment I woke up this morning. “If you can stop by before two today, I can chat.”
“I’ll be there,” I promise. I have a feeling I’m not going to like what she has to say.
I drag myself out of bed, shower and then throw on a pair of old jeans and my flannel shirt. Ironically, this is essentially the same outfit I wore the first time I arrived at the Royal mansion. My closet here is stuffed full of expensive clothes, but I’m not wearing a single stitch that was picked out by Brooke Davidson. That might be petty and stupid, but I don’t care.
I open my door and stop. Reed is leaning against the wall opposite my bedroom.
“Morning.”
I slam the door shut.
His strong voice easily carries beyond the door. “How long are you going to ignore me?”
Two years. No. For as long as humanly possible.
“I’m not leaving,” he adds. “And eventually you’re going to forgive me, so you might as well hear me out.”
I walk over to the window beside my bed and look down. The drop from the second story to the ground is pretty steep and I’m not sure the whole knotted-sheet thing works in real life. With my luck, the sheets would come untied and I’d crash to the ground, breaking several bones, and be stuck in my bed for weeks.
I cross the room, throw open the door, and march past him without a word.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the Brooke thing.”
You can take your sorries and choke on them.
Halfway down the stairs, he catches me by my upper arm and tugs me around to face him. “I know you still care or you wouldn’t be giving me the silent treatment.” He even has the nerve to flash me a smile.