Foretold (St. Bastian Institute 1)

“Please just go easy on her,” I begged, meeting Grace’s eyes. Her expression softened. I had no idea if Rebecca fancied girls, mainly because, to my knowledge, she’d never been in a romantic relationship, and if she had, she’d kept it a secret from the family. Still, even if she was attracted to women, I could never see anything happening with Grace. My sister was twenty-nine years old, and Grace was nineteen. The age gap alone was a hurdle before you even factored in the family connection.

“Fine, I’ll go easy on her, but only because you asked so nicely,” Grace allowed.

About an hour later, I got a text from my mother.

Your dad and I found some good spots to watch the fireworks. Where are you?

I sent a quick reply.

On my way.

“We’d better get going if we don’t want to miss the fireworks,” I said to Grace and Nic as I stood, a little wobbly on my feet after the two cans of cider I drank.

“Yes! Fireworks! I’m so pumped,” Grace declared and I laughed because she wasn’t even tipsy like I was.

We helped each other off the boat and made our way toward the other end of the pier. It was hard to see amid the crowds of people, but I spotted my dad first. He was typically the tallest person in any given room. I hadn’t inherited his height, sadly, finding myself neither tall nor short, but somewhere in the middle.

Mum stood beside him, her long dark hair weaved into a braid down her back. I watched as Dad’s hand came to rest just below her neck. She turned to glance at him, a smile shaping her lips as she stretched up to press a kiss to his jaw. Dad whispered something in her ear and she chuckled in response. Yes, my parents were hopelessly in love even after almost twenty years together. I could only hope that one day I’d find someone to love me even half as much as they loved each other.

Grace’s dads, Alvie and Gabriel, were present, too. Rebecca was notably absent, but she never attended these sorts of things because she hated crowds.

As we approached, I felt someone’s attention and glanced to my right. Peter Girard’s dark eyes were levelled on me as we passed him. He was with his parents, Luella and Peter Senior, and his three younger brothers. I wasn’t sure of their names. Peter’s dad had always struck me as a hard person, someone you didn’t want to mess with. Something about him gave me an uneasy feeling in my stomach, and that was before you factored in all the shit talking he did about my father.

Peter continued to stare at me, and there was something in his gaze I couldn’t decipher. When I passed him by, he reached out, and I paused in surprise. His parents were looking out at the water, so they didn’t notice him bend down, whispering in my ear at the same time he slid something into my hand.

“Not sure how good your dad’s sense of smell is, but I thought you might need this.” My pulse went wild when his fingers touched mine, something smooth meeting my palm. I glanced down and found a strip of chewing gum wrapped in silver foil. Was it meant to cover up the cider I’d been drinking?

“My dad doesn’t disapprove of me having a drink or two,” I whispered back. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Lucky you,” Peter replied. “Mine doesn’t allow it at all.”

His dad didn’t let him drink? But Peter was nineteen. I met his gaze, and heat singed my skin because he was looking at me again. He had no idea how affected I was by his attention. Peter wasn’t conventionally attractive. His nose was a little too big, his lips too wide, his shaggy hair in need of a cut, and yet, I found him stunning.

We must’ve been staring at each other for a while because Peter Senior’s voice cut through the moment. “Why are you talking to her?” he snapped, and Peter blinked, his shoulders straightening as he moved away.

“It’s nothing,” Peter murmured, but his dad didn’t look satisfied with that answer.

“It’s not nothing. If I ever see you speaking to that spoiled little bitch again, I swear I’ll—”

“Darling,” Luella’s smooth voice interrupted. “Let’s not cause a scene.”

Peter Senior’s jaw tightened as his wife squeezed his arm, and he reluctantly turned his attention back to the water. I didn’t look at Peter again, too scared of getting him into trouble, as I continued on my way, my heart racing. I couldn’t believe his dad called me a spoiled little bitch. Sure, I lived in a big house and my parents had money, but they’d never spoiled me.

Grace shot me a funny look when I joined her. “What was all that about?”