Page 5 of Wicked Little Secret
“Baby girl, you don’t know these people. You don’t know what you’re dealing with. Ido.”
“I can handle them. I’ve been doing it for two years.”
Mom blows out a frustrated breath. “The longer you’re there, the easier it’ll be for them to realize who you are.”
“You’re kidding, right? These people are so self-obsessed, they wouldn’t notice Jack the Ripper in front of their faces.”
“Promise me you’ll be careful.”
After assuaging Mom’s fears for the fiftieth time since summer began, we hang up. I pocket my phone and almost return to my sketch of songbirds and blooming flowers.
Instead, I step to the huge window next to the easel and peer out at the well-to-do town of Castlebury. Though my apartment’s one of the farther ones from campus, I can still spot the historic Ivy League college from my bedroom window.
Its skyscraping clock tower rises high among thesurrounding buildings and tree line. The hands on the clock tick away, counting down the minutes until my first day as a law student at Castlebury U.
Mom was worried for good reason. Twenty years ago, her life was destroyed on that same campus. Families like the Driscolls, Fairchilds, Rothenbergs, and Wickers were responsible.
But though Mom might think it’s too risky, I’m willing to walk the same halls. I’m willing to do what I need to in order to ensure the right people are held accountable. At last, we’ll have our revenge.
Revenge that will taste so sweet, it’ll all be worth it…
I’m late.Extremelylate. So late, I’m tripping down the hallway of my apartment, shrugging on a cardigan blouse. I make it to the door while fastening the last button.
The alarm on my phone failed me again. You’d think I’d learn by now to have a backup in the event the clock app on my phone’s hell bent on sabotaging me; you’dthinkI’d learn to wake up extra early the morning of my first day at law school.
I just had to stay up late working on my sculpture for the art festival.
I throw a quick glance at the antique gold-framed mirror hanging on the wall that I bought for five bucks at a thrift store and then rush out the door.
The university’s a twenty minute walk on a morning where slow strolls through town can be afforded.
On a morning where I’m already running ten minutes late, a rideshare is my best option.
Five minutes later, I’m leaping from the backseat of the Honda Civic that picked me up.
Castlebury University spreads out before me, so massive it’s almost its own town altogether.
Younger than Harvard but older than Princeton, the esteemed university is one of the country’s biggest Ivy League juggernauts. Known for its top tier academics and impressive alumni, the university shows off its Gothic collegiate architecture at every turn.
Limestone buildings cover the campus, a dense pine forest serving as the backdrop.
I sprint past these buildings on my way to orientation, crunching over the golden foliage September has brought with it.
I finally make it to Harper Hall, named after the university’s founder. Dashing up the stack of stone steps, I’m panting by the time I’m reaching for the brass door handles.
The entrance hall splinters off into three separate narrower halls, three separate parts of the building. I skip past the sign posted at the front that lists the locations of the different orientations being hosted in this building.
There’s no time when I already know.
I’ve memorized every detail outlined in the welcome email we were sent.
I turn right down the hall, rounding a corner without slowing down.
Someone else happens to be coming the opposite way around the same corner. Our bodies collide straight on, knocking what little wind I have left out of me. The books I’m carrying slip out of my arms, tumbling to the ground, and the coffee the man’s clutching flipsout of his grasp.
It crashes to the floor, but not before splashing all over the front of his tweed blazer.
Horror cinches my insides, making me choke out a gasp.