The Complete Private Collection: Private; Invitation Only; Untouchable; Confessions; Inner Circle; Legacy; Ambition; Revelation; Last Christmas; Paradise ... The Book of Spells; Ominous; Vengeance by Kate Brian Read Free Book Online

of no less than eight books. I wanted to tell him I didn’t need to read all this to catch up. I wanted to tell him that I knew the answers to several of his game show questions, but that I had never been good at being put on the spot. I wanted to tell him that his FDR question was a load of shit and that I was fairly certain that he knew it. Most of all, I wanted to tell him that I didn’t want to be an exception.
    But looking into his watery brown eyes, I knew without question that he wouldn’t tolerate me talking back to him again. So all I said was “Thank you.”
    “And I trust that today’s outburst was the last of its kind?” he said.
    “Yes, sir,” I said.
    “Good. You may go.”
    I turned slowly. I could feel him staring at me as I left the room and wondered what he was thinking. I made myself stand up straight. I couldn’t let him think he had broken me.
    In the hallway, a couple of girls stood in front of a bulletin board where an orange flyer advertised the Welcome Back Dance, scheduled a few weeks into the semester. I stared at it and wondered if it was even remotely possible that I would be around that long.
    No.
    None of that.
    No negativity. No pessimism. I was going to catch up in this class. I would catch up in everything. Even if I had to work all night, every night, I would do whatever it took to stay at Easton. The alternative—going back to Croton a failure and proving my mother’s rantings right—was inconceivable.
    Instead, I was going to prove to Mr. Barber that he was wrong about me. His chagrin would just be an added perk.

FIRST ENCOUNTER
    When I returned to the cafeteria, a mere five hours after my first trip there, my attitude had completely reversed itself. That morning I had felt hopeful and determined. Now I was exhausted and overwhelmed. As I joined the other girls from my floor at our table—the same one we had claimed that morning—I realized my latest and possibly most alienating mistake of my superterrific morning. On my tray was a heaping bowl of macaroni and cheese and a large Coke, plus three chocolate chip cookies. Their trays? Nothing but salad and diet Cokes. Constance had already hidden her one cookie under a napkin, no doubt in an act of self-preservation.
    “Do you know how many fat calories are in that?” Missy said, flicking her gaze at my food.
    I dropped into the last empty chair at the end of the table and let my heavy book bag thud to the floor. I decided not to care what Missy Thurber thought of my food. I was too hungry to care. And besides, it was comfort food. If there was one thing I needed just then, it was comfort.
    “Pass the ketchup?” I said.
    Missy groaned as Kiki handed it over. “Your funeral,” Missy said.
    Constance pulled her cookie out, bit into it, and smiled at Missy. Missy rolled her eyes and turned her back on us to gossip with her minions.
    Constance was starting to grow on me.
    “How were the rest of your classes?” she asked sympathetically. Translation: “I already know history sucked. Did it get any better?” Answer: Definitely not.
    “Fine,” I said with a quick smile.
    Even though my French class had been conducted entirely in French and I hadn’t been able to keep up or form any coherent answer other than “Je ne sais pas.” Even though my art history elective had been packed to the rafters with teen curators, all of whom knew the artist, year, and medium of every work our teacher flashed up on the screen. I could only imagine what was going to happen in my next class—Trigonometry. We’d probably skip right to Calculus because everyone would be bored by sines and cosines.
    “I know this is going to sound obnoxious or something, but if you ever need any help, I’m totally there,” Constance said. “The school I went to back in the city was really good. Like really good.”
    Okay. Was she offering to help me, or showing off? Neither one made me feel any better. It was as if everyone here had decided that I was