King of Hawthorne Prep

Chapter Nine

With my mouth hanging open, I watch Sloane stride away, her long blond hair swinging like a thick curtain behind her as her heels click against the marble. Once she vanishes around a corner, I blink out of my stupor. The corridor which had been filled earlier, is now eerily silent.

I should have known.

Same girl. Same bitchy behavior.

Welcome to Hawthorne Prep!

Releasing a breath, I squat down and snatch the balled-up schedule from the floor before rising to my feet and flattening the half slip of paper in my palm.

Now what am I supposed to do?

I take a moment to contemplate my next move. Maybe I should find my locker and drop off my backpack. After that, I’ll head to first hour. If I’m lucky, I won’t run into Sloane again.

Ever.

Although that seems unlikely.

What the hell is her problem?

For the time being, I push that question to the back of my mind. It takes over five minutes to find my locker and then another handful to figure out how to open the stupid metal contraption. I grab a notebook and pen from the bag before stuffing it inside the barren locker and slamming the door closed.

Now off to first hour.

I spend the next five minutes walking in circles through intersecting corridors before finally getting my bearings and winding up at the door to my English lit classroom. This has to be the most confusing building I have ever been in. Whoever numbered the rooms is an idiot. Some aren’t even in order. What’s the point of using a numeric system if you aren’t going to use it properly?

Naturally, the classroom door is closed.

My shoulders slump with the realization that there will be no quiet sneaking in for me.

Unsure what to do, I fidget for a couple of seconds, nervously smoothing down a few wisps of hair that have escaped from my bun before forcing myself to wrap my hand around the brass doorknob and turn it. Other than a slight rattling noise, the wood doesn’t budge.

Seriously?

I’m having the worst luck ever.

The only way I’m getting inside is to disrupt the teacher who is already lecturing at the podium in front of the class.

It takes a full sixty seconds to work up the courage and rap my knuckles against the door. Through the thin rectangle of glass, I see a few heads swivel in my direction with curiosity. When a smug blue gaze locks on mine, I gasp.

Sloane’s glossy pink lips lift into a cunning smile before she leans forward in her desk and whispers something to the brunette parked in front of her. That girl quickly flicks her bored gaze toward me before flashing a grin at Sloane.

Heat scalds my cheeks as I recognize the other girl as the sidekick from last night. Thirty excruciating seconds crawl by and no one bothers to answer the door.

I’m going to have to knock again.

Sloane continues to watch me with barely suppressed giddiness as I lift my arm and tighten my fingers into a fist. If these bitches think I’ll slink away like a coward, they have another thing coming.

This time, I make sure the knock is loud enough for the whole damn class to hear. The teacher’s monotone voice falls off abruptly as her gaze slices to mine through the glass before she purses her thin lips and walks from the front of the room toward me.

After she unlocks and opens the door, she stands at the threshold, barring my entrance. “Ms. Hawthorne, I presume?”

I clear my throat, realizing the entire class is eavesdropping on the exchange. “Yes.”

“You’re late.” Her lips thin even more than they already are.

I bob my head. “Yes, I—”

“No excuses. From now on, you will arrive to my class in a timely manner. I do not tolerate disruptions.” She huffs out a breath as if my lateness has been an ongoing issue that she’s had to contend with. “Today, I will excuse your tardiness, but I will not do so in the future. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes,” I whisper meekly, embarrassment blistering my cheeks.

“Excellent.” Only then does she step aside before extending her arm magnanimously toward the room. “Please take a seat so we may continue.”

Silently I scurry to the first open desk I find before sinking onto the wooden seat. Already my mind is conjuring up a list of reasons I can give my parents as to why it would be better to transfer to the local public school. There is no way it can be worse than this. Although, considering this school is named after our family and its Dad’s alma mater, it’s highly doubtful my parents will go for that.

I flick my gaze toward the overly thin woman at the front of the room as she drones on about her expectations. English has always been one of my favorite subjects. I love to read a wide variety of books and to write. Somehow, I don’t think that will be the case this semester.