Wealth, status, and beauty define the elite of Kensington Prep. Every one of them possesses the ability to get away with anything and everything they want, unscathed and remain as privileged and superior as ever.
But Amory Scout decides that tim...
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I still remember the night my parents died.
It was a cold night. My fingers stretched outside the covers of my bed and the freezing sensation was instantaneous, inching its way up my skin. I was awake for several moments, silent as a mouse. Even before the police informed me of their car crash, my apartment was far too quiet. I glanced at the clock. Almost midnight.
Normally, at this time, Mom would've played her Diana Ross collection as she knit and sew and Dad would be reading, the sound of him flicking his page would carry down to the hallway and snuck its way into my room. But there was no sound. Something was wrong, I automatically suspected. It was far too quiet. Then I remembered they were at a friend's function and I assumed they had not returned home yet. I frowned. They should be home at least half an hour ago. They said they would be home around 11.
Nonetheless, I brushed my suspicions as ludicrous and attempted to settle into a dreamless sleep but it was too cold. The thick blankets weren't enough. Still, I forced myself to sleep.
Five minutes seemed to pass by when the bell rang and I shot up, confused. Why was our house bell ringing at this time? But my hands scoured my nightstand blindly, searching for my glasses, then found them and jammed them onto my face.
The view of my room sharpened palpably.
I staggered over to my coat rack, grabbed a robe, and stumbled into the living room. Groggily, I yawned and saw the door to Bobby's room open as I shuffled over to the door. I yanked it open and found two men in blue uniforms standing in front of me.
My throat closed up. "S-sir?" My voice was shaking. I was always rather nervous around authorities. It was the way they looked at you, as though suspecting trouble when you already knew you didn't do anything wrong but yet you were still nervous around them.
Outside, the night had changed. It was no longer a dark, blank canvas of skies. It was a grey morning with black clouds plaguing the dawn. The stocky one on the right adjusted his glasses and spoke tonelessly: "Good Morning." It was not. "Are you David and Genevive Emerson's daughter? I am Detective Longhold. And this is my partner, Detective Sharp. We're officers from the NYPD."
I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, my vision adjusting. "What's...what's wrong?"
"We are sorry to inform you but your parents had died in a car accident on the way home tonight."
My blood went cold. I was numb, staring at them vacantly with shock. The incoherent sentences were stuck in my gullet. The rest of the events flowed past me like water over a rock in a gentle stream: the description of how they died, the lights, the bloodcurdling sirens, the faked condolences, the funeral...especially the funeral. It was a sordid affair. But I was barely paying attention as my cousin Hadley clasped my hand and fixed her gaze upon the two coffins about to be lower down into the ground for eternity and beyond.
