“What else?” I ask.
Val points an accusing finger at Easton. “Well, the Royals can’t stand each other anymore and Reed can’t be bothered to keep the crazies in line. And anyone else with a conscience is too lazy or afraid to say something, so Astor Park has gone to shit. Every day, it escalates. I’m actually afraid someone’s going to get physically hurt.”
So this morning wasn’t an anomaly. I frown at Easton. “What’s going on?”
“You go to school to learn, right?” he says carelessly. “Well, one of those things kids need to learn is how to take care of themselves. The world is full of bullies. They don’t go away when you leave high school. Might as well learn those lessons now.”
“Easton. That’s terrible.”
“What do you care?” he accuses. “You left everyone behind. So what if the rich little boys and girls at Astor are feeling the sting of not having a Royal in charge? Aren’t you happy that the place is turning out exactly like you thought it would?”
Truthfully, I didn’t spare Astor Park Prep a thought when I left, but now that I know people are getting hurt, the whole thing doesn’t sit well with me. “No, that doesn’t make me happy. Why would you say that?”
He turns to look at the perfect lawn while Val shifts uncomfortably between us.
“Just let it go, Ella,” he says finally. “You can’t change anything. The most you can do is keep your head down and survive.”
11
The bakery is quiet when I arrive at two. I wanted to come sooner, but Lucy would’ve been busy. I’d like for her to yell at me, get it out of her system, and then tell me to grab an apron and get behind the counter.
Easton wanted to come in, complaining he hadn’t eaten in the last two hours. After a bit of pleading, he agreed to wait in the car.
“Is Lucy here?” I ask the barista at the register. The tall, gangly boy is new, and I have a sinking feeling he’s my replacement.
“Lucy,” he calls over his shoulder. “Some girl’s here to see you.”
Lucy sticks her head out of the back door. “Who is it?”
He jerks a thumb in my direction.
Her pretty face darkens when she spots me. “Oh, it’s you, Ella. Give me a minute. Why don’t you have a seat over there?”
Yup, getting fired.
The cashier gives me a sympathetic look before turning to the next customer. I grab a seat at a spare table and wait for Lucy.
She doesn’t take long. After a minute or so, she bustles out of the backroom with two mugs of coffee. One she sets in front of me, the other she sips from before setting it down.
“Two weeks ago, Reed Royal showed up here looking for you. The next day your guardian, Callum, called to let me know that you were very sick and would be out for an undetermined time. Fast forward and you’re here, looking healthy, albeit thinner than when you left.” She leans forward. “Do you need help, Ella?”
“No. I’m sorry, Lucy. I should’ve called, but I wasn’t able to come to work.” The lie doesn’t sit easy on my tongue. Lucy’s a super nice lady and I love working here. I tell her so. “I love it here and I know you took a chance when you hired me.”
She presses her lips together before taking another drink from her mug. She taps the sides of the cup before speaking. “I really needed someone, and when you weren’t around and I couldn’t get ahold of you, I had to move on. You understand, don’t you?”
I nod because I do understand. I don’t like it, but I get it. “I’m sorry,” I repeat.
“I’m sorry, too.” Her hand dips into the pocket of her flour-dusted apron. “Here, call me if you need anything.”
Anything but a job, I think. “Thanks,” I say, pocketing the card.
“Don’t be a stranger, Ella,” she says kindly as she gets to her feet. “If I have another opening, maybe we can try again.”
“Thanks.” My vocabulary is reduced to two words: thanks and sorry.
Lucy takes another gulp of her coffee and leaves for her kitchen while I’m left to contemplate how poorly I handled my departure. I’m not used to being the unreliable one, and even though there’s a sick feeling in my stomach for having let her down, there’s also a small part of me that’s happy she cared. That anyone cared.
12
I hear the whispers the moment I step onto campus the next morning. I got a few smirks and stares when I was parking my car in the student lot, but it’s much worse inside. A deafening hush, then an endless murmur of voices and smug laughter that follows me down the hall.
At my locker, I study my reflection in the little mirror on the door, wondering if there’s a piece of hair sticking up or a booger in my nose. But I look fine. Just another cookie-cutter Astor Park student in my white uniform shirt and navy skirt and blazer.