Ivy Cordelia Boarding School

Chapter Twenty-Three

n.

I sit there on her bed for thirty minutes after she flounces off to the bathroom, a bounce in her step at the thought of finally being allowed to leave campus. It wasn't as unbelievable to me as it should have been. In fact, it made more sense than her being hung up over Grayson for all of this time. That wasn't something I could understand. Revenge was an entirely different story.

But, comparing the two evils, I couldn't figure out if the anger I felt right now was justifiable. In my mind, the kiss with Grayson was a one off. My mom was about to send me off to some school where I didn't even speak the language, so I was heartbroken. I thought it was one of the last times I'd see him, or anyone else. That doesn't justify the kiss, I know, but it's not like I was targeting my best friend's boyfriend. 

Grayson had always been my comfort. He was the one person in the world I could trust to love me no matter what. He never expected anything from me, or wanted me to be anything other than who I was. And he looked after me much more than he ever should have. Grayson made sure that I was getting sleep, and doing my homework. He'd even make sure to bring me food when he figured that I'd forgotten to do it for myself. But once they got together, Peyton didn't like it, so it all had to change. 

He was her boyfriend, before he was my best friend- my Toady. And she made sure to let me know it. 

She'd taken that away from me, along with any opportunities for real friends at this school. I'd let her make me a puppet that she could march around school in matching thousand dollar outfits and keep to herself. 

In fact, she did even more than that. I remember all of the date nights Cason would plan for us, that she'd guilt- trip me out of. And then we'd go off to some party together, leaving him and his bouquet of roses behind. He was so GOOD. Always waiting for me in my room once I got back, an indoor picnic at the foot of the bed. But, eventually, he grew tired of it. And the first day he hadn't snuck into my room when I ran off with Peyton, I ended things. I knew that he'd planned to do the same.

And with Elliana and Peyton- how she'd make all of these bitchy comments and then look at me to join in and laugh with her. It's not that I didn't want to do it, exactly, it's just that I see now more than ever that she didn't want me close with anyone but her. We'd always make fun of the things they liked to do, the food they enjoyed eating and the clothes that they wore. Along with every other person in the school. She'd start it, and I'd finish it with the most hurtful, scathing thing I could possibly think of. I was always more than happy to make her laugh.

Everyone's always telling me that I sit in the DC and perform for the crowd, but I never knew that it was a puppet show. She'd bump my shoulder and nod in the direction of a person walking past, and I'd pick them apart for the entire dining commons to hear. 

I was angrier at me than I was at her, having allowed her to turn me into Peyton's monster. 

I felt sick. 

And I had no one to talk to about it. I'd pushed Kennedi and Ell to a point that we couldn't come back from, and treated Grayson horribly on a daily basis. Yet, he'd still listen and wrap me in his arms until I asked him to let me go. I didn't want that, though. I didn't deserve to breathe in his scent that could rock me to sleep faster than any lavender. Cuddled up with him, I fell asleep peacefully on many of my darkest days.

I was angry.

I get up from the bed and leave the room, letting the envelope fall to the ground as I go. In a way, I was happy that it existed. It was my key to freedom. Yet, I was afraid. I was too scared to put myself out there and make other friends. Who would even want to BE my friend? I didn't deserve those either. There wasn't a person on campus that I hadn't dissected. 

I push out into the quad, the cold wind nipping at my sweat slicked shoulders. There was a thin sheen of it covering my entire body, glittering in the sunlight.

"Nastassia".

I spin around to the voice whose last words to me were to never talk to the person who spoke it again. He was behind me, walking out of the CA building as if he belonged there.

"I'm not in the mood right now, Rhys. You can go straight to the pits of hell where you belong" I hiss at him, before turning around and stomping off. He runs after me, grabbing my arm and turning me to face him.

"What's wrong? You look really upset" he says, studying my face. I snatch my arm out of his grip as if he'd burned me. 

"What were you doing in the CA building, anyway?".

"I had a...meeting with someone there" he says with a grin. I notice, now, the red mark on his face and the scratches on his arms. His hair looks tousled and tugged on, while his smile was lazy and satisfied.

"I hope the HM catches you on camera" I spit at him before going to walk away.

"She already has a couple of times. Apparently, she wanted to be in the adult entertainment business at some point" he says, walking alongside me even though it's the last thing that I want.

"What?".

I stop dead in my tracks, looking at him, the CA building and back again. "What are you saying, Rhys?".

"The HM'S a little freak. Don't let her fool you with that stick up the ass attitude. Although she loves that, too" he says with a wink, before swaggering away as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb the size of Asia on me. 

What the actual hell. 

He'd just given me the perfect thing to snap me out of my sad spell. Something like that was prime blackmail material. Mistress Lou had no idea what was coming for her. And neither did Peyton, for that matter. 

I'd come to the conclusion that one kiss wasn't worth years of trauma. She'll get what's coming for her before it's even close enough for her to see it. And since the HM was about to be under my thumb, the friend's would come quickly enough. Imagine the stuff we'd be able to do with dirt on someone as important as her. 

Things were looking up much quicker than I ever could have imagined. 

You couldn't be sad with tea being served as hot as that.

Rhys Arrowood didn't help me win over Armani Hendrix, but maybe he was good for something after all.