14. Maddison

Maddison

I spent the next hour eating and working on a few assignments. Then, once I’m done, I look more into who bailed me out of jail. It’s something that’s been bugging me since I was released, and while no one at the police department has handed over the information, I’m not about to stop trying. I also need to call and find out when my court date is for the charges filed against me, but it’s too late to call about that. On top of all of this, I need to look for a new job. So, I guess staying here instead of going to dinner was a good thing since my to-do list is way longer than I anticipated.

I start with looking for a job online, mainly sticking to waitressing positions on the northside. Once I’ve submitted a few applications for those, I begin a search on anonymous bailers to see if anything pops up.

After reading article after article, I arrive at the conclusion that the person who bailed me out either bribed the police department to refuse to give me their information—which isn’t legal, but this is northside we’re talking about—or the person didn’t give their information when they paid my bail.

But seriously, who the hell would do this? Why go through the trouble of remaining so discreet? It doesn’t make any sense.

None of this does really?—

Ding.

A text comes through, and I have my earbuds in, so I startle.

Releasing a shaky breath, I pick up my phone, and my brows furrow at the unrecognizable number. When I open the message, my confusion dwindles.

Hey, it’s me, Lily. I meant to exchange numbers with you earlier but totally spaced out, so I called the school and got it. Sorry if that’s weird, but I wanted to let you know that Wren and I will be there in like half an hour, and then we can head to the party!

I prop up on my arms as I stare at the screen. I don’t feel like attending this party for so many reasons, but blowing her off is a bitch move.

Me: Okay, I’ll get ready then.

I program her number into my phone and, a second later, she texts me again.

Lily: Awesome! We’ll have so much fun. I promise.

I want to believe her, but I can be naturally pessimistic when it comes to parties, perhaps because the ones my parents always threw were an absolute shitshow.

Pushing up, I climb off the bed and begin rummaging through my clothes. For an instant, I consider texting Lily to see what I should wear, but I’m getting tired of worrying about that. It’s not who I am, and I don’t want to lose myself in this place. So, I pull on a pair of fishnet tights, a short, black skirt, and a worn Nirvana T-shirt I found at a secondhand store. Then I slip on my leather jacket, my boots, and pull my hair into a messy ponytail. I put on my dark eyeliner and mascara, and since it’s a party, I add some maroon lipstick to the mix.

I call it good, and it only took me about twenty minutes, so I wander into the living room area and sink onto the sofa to wait for Lily and Wren.

I’m a mixture of nervousness—which I hate—and exhaustion—which is normal. But a tiny, tiny part of me is curious to see what party life as a royal will be like.

I sit on the sofa and scroll through my social media accounts for about ten or so minutes before the door opens up.

“I know. He’s so hot,” Wren is saying as her and Lily walk into the room. “Maybe I could persuade him into making out with me for a bit tonight?”

“You shouldn’t have to persuade anyone to make out with you,” Lily informs her as she shuts the door.

“Maybe. But couldn’t I just lower my self-worth for one night?” she asks. “Is it really that big of a deal?”

“I don’t think …” Lily trails off as her gaze finds me. Then her eyes go huge. “Holy crap, you look like Grunge Barbie.”

“Hey, so do not,” I protest, rising to my feet. “I don’t even have blonde hair.”

“Not all Barbies have blonde hair,” Lily comments while eyeing me over. “Man, I so wish I could pull off the grunge look.”

“You can do whatever you want,” Wren tells her while assessing me. “And so can you. But I feel like I should warn you that if you go to the party tonight dressed like that, you’ll be treated like fresh meat.”

“Thanks for the warning, but I can handle my own.” I stand up, tugging at the hem of my skirt. “I need to be me. It’s important.”

Wren nods. “I can respect that. And I don’t think it will necessarily be a bad thing. I just think you’ll be hit on a lot, because you’re new and different.”

“And hot,” Lily adds with a shake of her head. “Man, I wish I could pull off that look.”

I turn toward her. “Who says you can’t?”

“My pasty skin and blonde hair.” Her shoulders slump as she sighs. “Whenever I’ve tried the all-dark vibe, it washes me out. Whatever. I’ll put on a boring pastel dress or something,” she mumbles then goes into her room and shuts the door behind her.

“Now I just feel bad,” I mumble, tugging at the hem of my skirt.

Wren laughs under her breath. “Don’t feel bad. That’s just how Lily is—overdramatic about everything. But she’s loyal as hell, even to a fault almost.” She sits down on the armrest of a nearby chair and considers something. “Can I ask you kind of a personal question?”

“Um … sure.” I retake a seat on the sofa. “I mean, you can ask, and I’ll decide if I want to answer.”

“Okay.” She mulls something over. “How did you get the scholarship here? It’s been driving me crazy, because Royal Academy has never, ever allowed scholarship students in before, but then they suddenly decide to this year, and you’re the only one who gets accepted? It’s just driving me crazy.” She briefly pauses. “Not that I’m saying it’s a bad thing. I wish they’d let more in. It’s just my journalist side has been trying to piece together the whys behind it.” She crosses her legs as she rotates toward me. “This school has a history of doing suspicious things—dusting shit under the rug, doing coverups for assaults and hazing—and my goal as a writer is to bring to light some of these dark secrets they’re trying to hide.”

“Aren’t you worried that might get you into trouble?”

“Oh, I know it will. But it kind of comes with my job. And yeah, I get that I don’t have to write about it, but I want to.” She heaves a weighted sigh. “Despite what my parents want me to do, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life being a gossip columnist. I want to write about things that matter, and I want to start with this school and its corruption.”

“And you think my scholarship has to do with that?” I question, unsure whether to be offended or not.

“Truthfully, I don’t know. All I know is that it’s completely out of the ordinary for them to let northside students in on scholarship, especially when this place prides itself on being a prestigious place where only the wealthy and best students go. At least, that’s the shit they feed everyone. I don’t think for a second that being wealthy means you’re the best. In fact, some of the most shady people I’ve met are the most wealthy and powerful.”

“I believe you,” I say, thinking about my aunt. “People are shady on northside, too, but not all of them, so I get that there’s multiple layers to all sorts of social classes.”

“I know, right? And so many people don’t get that.” She sticks out her fist. “Fist-bump for seeing things clearly?”

I tap my knuckles against hers while laughing. She laughs, too.

“And to answer your question about my scholarship …” I decide to tell her because I feel like maybe I can trust her. And even if I can’t, what can she do with the information? Everyone is already aware that I’m a northside scholarship student. “I don’t know who gave it to me or why. Some lawyer just showed up on my doorstep about a week ago with an envelope congratulating me on my scholarship. I had to go to the city to sign papers, but again, this was all through a lawyer, and the person/people who gave it to me wanted to remain anonymous. I’m not even sure why they chose me or how they even found out about me. It was probably just random.” Even when I say the words aloud, I don’t fully believe them. Too much random stuff has been happening to me lately to actually be random.

“That’s weird that they wanted to remain anonymous,” Wren states as she absentmindedly digs a tube of lipstick out of her bag. She applies it then puts it away again before saying, “I have an uncle who’s a lawyer. He helps me out with stories sometimes. I could ask him about this and see if he has any theories about it. If that’s okay with you, I mean?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” I fleetingly consider asking her if her uncle can look into who bailed me out of jail, as well, but that would lead to a whole other level of confession time with her, and I’m not about to do that.

Sure, she seems open-minded, but if I told her I’ve been arrested—twice—it could lead to judgment. Even Finn and River don’t want people to know they spent Friday night behind bars.

“Cool. I’ll let you know what he says.” Wren zips up her bag and rises to her feet right as Lily walks out of her room.

She’s rocking a short, silver dress, matching shoes, and diamond earrings. She’s also sporting a pout.

“I’m starting to really hate my wardrobe,” she gripes while flipping her hair off her shoulder. “I look like a beauty queen in this thing.”

“Beauty queens are pretty,” I tell her as I stand up.

She continues to pout. “I know, but I don’t feel like I want to be beauty queen-ish tonight. I’m so sick of looking like that. The only reason I ever went with this look is because my mother made me.” She slumps against the wall with her arms crossed. “I don’t even know who I am. Not really. I finally have a chance to figure it out, and I just need some help because I have no idea where to start.”

I feel sorry for her, enough that I offer, “I have another leather jacket you can borrow.” I point over my shoulder at my room. “Fair warning, I got it from a secondhand store, and it has a tear inside, but it’s perfect on the outside, and if you wore it over that dress and changed your shoes, you can go with a punk princess vibe or something?” I look at Wren like, Are those the right words to persuade her away from this existential crisis?

“Oh, for sure,” Wren agrees, giving me a subtle nod before returning her attention to Lily. “I have these really cool black platform shoes you can borrow. And you can put on those lace tights.”

With her lips smashed together, Lily pushes away from the wall. “All right. Yeah, let me try that.”

“We can grab my shoes on the way?” Wren suggests then flicks a glance at me. “You want to grab that jacket, and then we can head out?”

“Sure.” I hurry back to my room and collect the jacket from the closet.

As I’m heading back out, I pause as I hear Wren talking in a hushed tone.

“Are you sure you did it?” she whispers to Lily. “Because it doesn’t seem like you did.”

“Oh my God, Wren, for the hundredth time, yes, I did it,” Lily gripes. “So, please, stop harassing me. You’re starting to sound like your mother.”

“I’m sorry,” Wren replies. “I know this sucks, but you know what will happen if you don’t … Things would’ve been so much easier if we’d been roomed together in the first place.”

“Shh …” Lily hisses. “I don’t want Maddy finding out.”

My stomach twists. What are they talking about exactly? And why do I have this sinking suspicion it has to do with me?”

I remain inside my room for another minute to see if they’ll talk more. When nothing but silence filters through the air, I give up, put on my best composed face, and exit my room with my jacket.

“Here you go.” I hand it to Lily.

She smiles.

I smile back, but it’s not real at all.

Finn said people here were made of plastic. He might be onto something. Because I’m already in day two, and I feel like I’m turning into a freaking doll.