Agreements With Mr Rich Boy | ✓

5 | Golden Ticket

IT TOOK LONGER THAN I'd expected to be fitted into a school uniform. Charlotte had taken me back down to where we'd been before; she'd talked only when necessary. I had seen, who I presumed to be, Daniel rearranging some of the crystal in one of the glass cabinets— he, too, said little.

William also took me home without conversing with me. Usually, I liked the quiet, enjoyed the scarce peace, but I wasn't grateful for it this time. I felt isolated. Completely alone.

Mum hadn't noticed my absence, despite me being gone for several hours. I got her some lunch, and tidied the house a little, but otherwise did nothing for the rest of the day.

***

The day of me going to Attwood rolled around far sooner that I would have liked. Of course, it had been something I'd been fantasising about for years— yet I couldn't help but feel dread. I pushed it aside, however, and let excitement consume me.

I woke up early, as usual, but actually didn't feel completely drained!

Mum was still in bed, likely to stay there for the majority of the day, when I began to get ready and take my suitcases to the bottom of the stairs. I assumed there'd be a washing machine, and maybe even a tumble dryer, so didn't pack loads (not that I had a lot to pack.)

There were two days on which people could arrive; either the Saturday or the Sunday. I hoped not too many people would be going on the Saturday as well as me, but I really just didn't know. For all I knew, the whole school could turn up then and I'd be swallowed into a bulk of other students. It wasn't the ideal first day, if I was being honest.

I lugged yet another bag, this one slightly smaller, but combined with my backpack and keys, it was a little tricky.

I'd planned on maybe getting a taxi and from there, get the train. I felt around for some money, still carrying my stuff, and with the card they'd given me between my teeth.

It was gold, vaguely resembling the golden ticket out of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, but had a lion's head engrained into it.

At the sound of a hard knock on the door, I dropped everything.

"Fuck sake," I snarled at my bag.

I stomped my way over to the door, and opened it a little too forcefully. As it crashed against the wall and rattled the mirror mounted on it, I cringed and looked up at the stairs. There was no sign of life up there, so I counted that as having not woken her.

Before me, stood William. He looked exactly the same as he had several weeks ago, almost as if he hadn't changed. I knew he had, however, as I could smell his cologne from where I stood. I felt assaulted at the strong fragrance and scrunched my nose.

Just as I was going to ask what the hell he was doing here, he beat me to it. "I've been sent to pick you up. I'll put your luggage in the car."

"I'll be two seconds!" I called at his back as he effortlessly carried everything that I'd struggled to, in one trip. I was mildly impressed. Okay, very impressed. I wondered if he'd practiced it with the shopping, but kicked myself as I realised he'd been doing this for fifteen years. That was his practice.

I raced back upstairs, but turned right instead.

Her door was slightly ajar, so I pushed it open gently, recognising the mound of duvets and pillows as her. It was pitch black, so I did my best to scurry around the edge of the bed and avoid any objects that might be taking refuge on her floor.