Paper Princess

Chapter Six

Callum drives me to the school I'll be attending for the next two years. Well, Durand drives. Callum and I sit in the backseat, and he's shuffling through a stack of what looks like blueprints while I stare out the window, trying not to think about what went down in my bedroom earlier with Reed.

Ten minutes pass before Callum finally looks up from his work. "I'm sorry, I'm playing catch-up. I took some time off after Steve's death, and the board is on my ass to get on top of things."

I'm tempted to ask him what Steve was like, if he was nice, what he did for fun, why he screwed my mom and never looked back. I keep my mouth shut instead. A part of me doesn't want to know about my father. Because if I know about him, he becomes real. He might even become good. It's easier to think of him as the jerk who abandoned my mom.

I gesture to the papers. "Are those plans for your airplanes?"

He nods. "We're designing a new fighter jet. Army commissioned it."

Jesus. He doesn't just build planes. He builds military-grade planes. That's big money. Then again, considering their house, I shouldn't be surprised.

"And my fath—Steve. He designed planes, too?"

"He was more involved in the testing sector. I am, too, to some extent, but your father had a real passion for flying."

My dad liked to fly planes. I file away that information.

As I fall silent, Callum's voice softens. "You can ask me whatever you want about him, Ella. I knew Steve better than anyone."

"I'm not sure I'm ready to know about him yet," I answer vaguely.

"Understood. But whenever you are ready, I'm happy to tell you about him. He was a great man."

I bite back the retort that he couldn't have been that great if he abandoned me, but I don't want to get into it with Callum.

All thoughts of Steve disappear when the car reaches a set of gates that must be twenty feet high, at least. Is this how the Royals live? Driving from one gate to another? We pass through them and follow a paved road that ends in front of a massive Gothic-looking building covered in ivy. I look around when we step out of the car and note similar buildings dotting the pristine campus of Astor Park Prep Academy, along with acres of grass. I guess that's why park is in the name of the school.

"Stick around," Callum tells Durand through the open driver's window. "I'll ring you when we're ready to leave."

The black car disappears toward a parking gate at the far end of the drive. Callum turns to me and says, "Headmaster Beringer is expecting us."

It's hard to keep my jaw off the ground as I follow him up the wide set of steps toward the front doors. This school is bonkers. It oozes money and privilege. The manicured lawn and massive courtyard are deserted—I guess everyone is already in class—in one of the far fields I see a blur of uniform-clad boys playing soccer.

Callum follows my gaze. "Do you play any sports?"

"Uh, no. I mean, I'm athletic, kind of. Dance, gymnastics, that stuff. But I'm not very good at sports."

He purses his lips. "That's too bad. If you join a team or squad, you're exempt from taking the phys ed class. I'll ask if there's an opening on one of the cheerleading squads—you might be a good fit there."

A cheerleader? Yeah right. You need pep for that, and I'm the least peppy person you'll ever meet.

We step into a lobby that belongs in a college movie. Large portraits of alumni hang on the oak-paneled walls, and the hardwood floor beneath our feet is polished. A few guys in blue blazers saunter by, their curious gazes landing on me briefly before they continue on.