Page 2 of Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals 1)
Death is an ugly thing.
She shows me to my room, and I drop my backpack on the full-sized bed. It’s a nice room, simple enough. I just need to keep reminding myself: Eleven months until freedom.
Robert comes out of a room down the hall and grins at us. “Ah, you must be Margo! Lovely. Lenora showed you your room?”
“Yes, sir,” I mumble.
They seem like regular rich people, all sweaters and comfortable pants that look more expensive than my entire wardrobe. Their smiles seem genuine, and I pray that there isn’t any malice lurking under the surface.
We all sit in their living room.
Angela clears her throat again. “Margo just turned seventeen two weeks ago. We have about eleven months before she ages out of the system. You have kindly agreed to enroll her at Emery-Rose Elite School—”
“Robert works there,” Lenora says, reaching out and patting my hand. “It’s a good education, and the tuition was free.”
“Thank you.”
Angela glances at me. “Well, Margo was originally there on scholarship when she was younger. Is that correct, Margo?”
“The elementary school portion.” I shift back in my seat. “They accepted me back even though I’ve been in public schools?” Nine of them, to be exact.
While the last family was good to me, and I was there for two years, there was a period of about five years where I bumped around different families and group homes, and the changing location meant changing schools, too. I tried my best to make it seamless, but jumping into new curriculums every year has pushed me a little behind, I’m sure of it.
“Yes,” Angela says. “Congratulations, hon. You’re going back to Emery-Rose.”
I swallow. My stomach is a mess of butterflies. “When do I start?”
“Tomorrow,” Robert says. “They only just got back last week, so it’s perfect timing. You’ll be starting as a senior, although they mentioned you may need to do extra work to graduate with the current seniors.”
I blow out a breath. It’s the same class I went in with. I draw up faces of kids I used to know, wondering if they’re still there.
After a few more questions from my social worker, she stands and brushes off her pants. “Margo, call me if you need anything. Same with you, Lenora and Robert.” She hands them her card, and then she’s out the door.
We’re left in silence.
“Are you hungry?” Lenora asks. “Tired?”
I nod. “I think I’m going to lie down, if that’s okay?”
“Of course, honey. I’ll knock when it’s time for dinner.”
As far as new homes go, the first day is always the worst. It’s like learning a new dance, and no one really takes the time to teach you the steps. New schools are the same, except… everyone seems to know I’m the foster kid.
It’s going to be worse tomorrow. They’ll probably recognize my name. I’m sure there was a story when I vanished. My best friend at the time, Savannah, wrote me exactly one letter a week after I moved schools. She asked me if the rumors were true, if my mom was a coke-whore and Dad was her dealer.
I never answered.
I close my door and flop onto the bed, unlocking my phone. There are names I could stalk to prepare myself for tomorrow, but preparation never did me any good. Instead, I close my eyes and try not to think about where Claire and Hanna, my foster siblings, ended up.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I wake with a start. I’m filled with a restless urge and a gnawing hunger in the pit of my stomach. I look out the window, contemplating the climb to the ground.
They didn’t wake me for dinner, which isn’t surprising. I slept hard, the first good sleep in a long time. There were no dreams, no nightmares. Just… sleep.
I push open the window and slide the screen up, leaning halfway out. The house is brick, but there’s nothing to grab on to. Nothing I can see, anyway. I pull myself back in and close the window, lowering myself to the floor. My phone’s glow illuminates the room, the buzz of a text harsh in the silence.
Unknown: Heard you were back.
I tilt my head and give it a few seconds. Then I type back.