“I live at Sisters of Charity. I only have one brother—actually he’s my half-brother—but there are twenty little ones there and then the older kids.”

“Wait? You’re still there? I thought you’d—”

I give him a glare. “Where else would I be? I turned eighteen this past January, and they’re letting me stay for now but it isn’t permanent. I asked for a dorm here, but I don’t know if that will work out…” My voice trails off and I lapse into silence. I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear the details about me coming back to Camden.

He frowns, his brow wrinkling as if he’s in deep thought. He gives me a dismissive glance. “I see. Fine. Just text me when you want to watch it. Whatever.”

I stare at the number. Texting him? Screw that. If he thinks I want any kind of contact with him, even if it’s via a phone, he’s deluded.

But, shit, his number!

So many possibilities. Girls’ bathroom, announcing it in class, posting it online, the newspaper—hell, flying it on a banner behind a plane. I sigh. A girl can dream…

He’s leaned into my space, that stupid ocean cologne drifting around me. “If you write my number in the bathroom, I will make you pay, Tulip.”

I smile innocently. “Me? Never.”

“Mmmm.”

Thank God the bell rings only a few moments later. It felt like the longest hour of my life, and I dash out of there like a greyhound at the races.

5

After class, I take off for the restrooms. My stomach growls yet it’s uneasy at the same time, my nerves tense and ready for anyone who gets close to me. In hindsight, I should have eaten the toast and eggs the nuns set out, but I was wired. Everything hinges on today. If I can make it…

I find the last stall and sit down.

One class down.

Five periods left.

Pulling the locket out from under my shirt, I brush my fingers over it. Cheap and old, I found it on the floor at one of the various shelters Mama and I wandered in and out of. I recall asking around to see if it belonged to anyone, but no one claimed it, and since there wasn’t even a picture inside, I finally decided it was meant to be mine. I snap it open and stare down at the tiny picture of Tyler, his big eyes and spikey brown hair. We look nothing alike. “Such a sweet baby,” I murmur. “We got this, bozo.”

One final breath then I leave and walk down the hall, staying on the right-hand side near the line of lockers, headed toward the headmaster’s office. Everyone walks and talks around me. Piper has zipped off to her second class, and I won’t see her until lunch.

Sometimes the loneliest place on earth is in the midst of a crowd.

But that’s okay. I’m here and that means something.

I enter the office, and it’s frantic with students and teachers milling around. First day craziness.

“What is it, doll?” says Mrs. Carmichael, the office secretary. Unsurprisingly, she looks flustered, her faded brown hair up in a tight bun with a pen tucked behind her ear. Little strands stick out everywhere. Slightly plump, she’s wearing a flowy blouse with giant pink flowers on it.

I clear my throat. “Headmaster Trask asked me to come in this morning. My name is Ava Harris. I would have come earlier, but I barely made it to my first period.”

She blinks, her back straightening, obviously registering my name. Yeah, I’m her.

I gaze back at her blankly. Please don’t pity me.

She nods. “I see. Are you sure he didn’t mean the end of the day?” She looks over at the headmaster’s shut door. “He’s very busy on the first day back.”

Someone, a deliveryman, bumps into me as he carries in a large box full of printed pamphlets and places it up on the counter. She signs for them, obviously forgetting about me, and I start to argue and let her know he told me I was to come in the morning, but I decide to let it go. I’ve had enough confrontations today.

RING!

The bell dings over the intercom, and I watch tardy students through the glass doors, darting around and running to class.

I let out a sigh. My other class is on the opposite side of the building. I turn back to ask for a hall pass, but she’s arguing with the deliveryman, telling him the colors are all wrong.

I’m about to leave when I see Knox come out of Mr. Trask’s office. Wait a minute—I can’t see the headmaster in the morning, but he can? Huh. My face reddens, and I clutch my books close to my chest.

“Problems already?” he murmurs as he stops in front of me.

Mrs. Carmichael looks up and calls Knox’s name, telling him she’ll write him a pass back to class.

My lips compress. “I’m supposed to see Mr. Trask, but it looks like you took up any free time he might have, and now I’m relegated to going to class.”

“Oh.” He turns to Mrs. Carmichael, who’s busy writing him a pass. “Maxine, Ava was supposed to see the headmaster. Will you buzz him?”

Maxine? Seriously?

She cocks her head and moves her gaze from me to him. She looks annoyed, but clearly she’s too busy with the pamphlet man to argue any further. She gives us a quick nod.

“I don’t need your help, Cold and Evil,” I mutter. “Why were you in there anyway? Trying to change your schedule so you don’t have to sit with me in class?”

His gaze brushes over me. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy sitting next to you. You’re quite fascinating, charity case.”

“Why, sitting next to the King of Camden is certain to be the most scintillating experience of my whole life.”

“He’ll see you now, Ava. Head on in,” Mrs. Carmichael says as she gestures to the shut door.

“Later, Tulip,” he murmurs, walking past me.

“Stop calling me that!” I snap to his back as he walks out of the office, broad shoulders swaying.

Giving the secretary a nod, I open Mr. Trask’s office door.

A short, balding man in his fifties, he wears a genial expression on his face as I stand in the doorway. He smiles carefully. “Ava, there you are. I was waiting for you, come on in. Have a seat. It’s wonderful you decided to come back to Camden.”

Sitting in a plush, brown leather chair, I nod my head in agreement, but I know there wasn’t much choice for me in the matter. Goals—they’re what pushed me to walk back into this hellhole.

Another tenuous smile from him as he comes around and sits on his desk, his hands folded in his lap. “As I mentioned on the phone last week, we can easily add your grades from last year to our curriculum here. It even appears you’re ahead in calculus. The tutors at Sisters of Charity did a great job with homeschooling.”

I smile, but just barely.

The tutors sucked. I actually did everything myself. I researched and found a homeschooling program accepted in Tennessee public schools, read the material myself, and took every test, legitimately and without cheating. A few times I even snuck into local colleges near the group home and sat in the back taking notes. Thankfully those classes were so packed no one seemed to notice.

“You won’t be disappointed by your decision to put last year behind you. Camden really is the best place for you.”

This is the worst place I could be.