Chapter 17 Founding Family.
GINGER:
That bastard. That unbelievably deflective bastard turned this on me. I can't believe the gall of him, twisting the truth and making himself out as some sort of hero while sticking me with the actual work.
I step into the hallway clutching the course outline and practice papers Mr Jamieson gave me, brain frazzled from trying to figure out how exactly I'm supposed to keep Jayden—and myself afloat in time for the test coming up in a week.
“Took you long enough,” a voice says to my left.
Nope. I turn in the opposite direction, heading to my locker. His footsteps sound behind me almost immediately, unhurried but quickly gaining momentum. At least he's finally managed to ditch Katelyn, so I guess that's something.
“What did four eyes want with you?” he asks and I roll my eyes.
“Oh please, like you haven't heard it all already.”
“God forbid a guy actually wants to give his stepsister some privacy.”
I try not to flinch at his choice of words, just pick the few textbooks I'll need for my study session with Jayden and shut the compartment.
I sidestep him on my way to the doors, but he grabs my arm, turning his gaze on me. “Where are you going?”
“Somewhere you're not.”
“With those books?”
“Yes. Got a problem?”
Grayson runs a hand through his hair, and I can tell he's close to his wits end. Well, good. That makes two of us.
“At least tell me what the hell that was about earlier.” He tries to keep his voice low.
I bite the inside of my cheek, looking everywhere else but at him. A few people have started shooting us curious glances, though no narratives have started circulating yet. I need to get out of here before I lose my mind.
“I don't have the time for this right now, Gray,” I say. “I've got an appointment to keep.”
“Yeah? With who?”
“Jayden.” The name is out of my lips before I can stop myself, and I instantly regret it. Grayson's entire stance changes.
“What the actual fuck Ginger?” he spits. “Do you hear yourself?”
There's a certain level of annoyance and judgement in his tone that finally sends me over the edge. I jerk my arm from his grip and whirl around. Zero filter.
“As a matter of fact, Grayson, you know what—I do! And I'm going either way. Why? Because YOU put me in this position. Not Jayden. You did. You and your primordial inability to stand up to your father when it actually matters. So before you go on baptizing me with that self-righteous bullshit, stop to look within, and be sure you're without faults of your own!”
He snaps back like I've hurt him, and I know I have. But it also feels incredibly good to get that off my chest. I don't wait for him to recover, I spin on my heels—slightly winded, and bound towards the entrance.
“Damn. Remind me not to get on her bad side,” I hear someone say as I walk past. “Wonder what he did to have her blow up in his face like that.”
But I don't turn back. Neither do I stop walking.
Outside I text Jayden for his address using the number I collected from our Literature teacher and wave down a cab. His reply comes through seconds into the ride, and I repeat the details to the driver.
I stare out the window, twiddling my fingers in my lap, willing the remnants of my outburst away. I need to be calm and level-headed if I'm to make it through an apology to Jayden's parents.
The world around me thins out the further we go. Rundown boutiques and cafés give way to abandoned strips of land and then down a narrow road canopied by twisted branches and falling leaves.
I lean towards the driver, a greying man with surprisingly great hair. “Are you sure this is the right way?”
“Positive. Rivera Mansion, yes?” His eyes cut to me in the rearview mirror, and I nod.
“It’s right after this street, from that curve.”
I bob my head, turning my gaze back to the side window. Small shafts of light are streaking through the breaks in the trees overhead. It would be dark out soon.
“They are the founding family, you know,” the driver says out of the blue.
“Huh?”
“The Riveras. They founded this community. This town,” he explains. “Or their ancestors did at least.”
This is news to me.
“If that's true, why do they live so far from everyone else?” I ask.
“Who knows? Strange bunch I tell you. Probably didn't see the appeal. Or maybe they're an introverted lot.”
Interesting.
The tires roll to a stop in front of Jayden's home, and my mouth falls open.
“We're here,” the man announces, obviously ready to get going. But I'm still shocked, still gaping at everything.
Don't get me wrong, I have seen wealth. Lived it repeatedly with Grayson and his father. In the array of cars parked and idling in their underground garage. How Roman’s name alone instills fear and opens doors. Or even how the omegas always have my room tidied and my needs tended to before I realize it myself. But this is different.
This home, this building right here, with all its dark-tinged grandeur, gives off the feeling of heritage.
And I'm not sure I'm ready to deal with that.
I step out of the car anyway, grounding my nerves. My fingers reach for the partition in my bag—the one with spare change, and I move to pay for the ride, when a security personnel jogs up to me.
“It's okay, miss. I got it,” he says, diving into his suit pocket. “Mr Rivera has been waiting for you.”
I get what he's about to do and I stall for time. “No, really, it's fine. I can handle myself.”
But he just calls behind me. “Torren! Show her in.”
The man I assume is Torren presses a buzzer, and the gates part open.
“This way, please,” he says.
I let him lead me into the estate, hearing the crunch of tires reversing before turning and skidding down the street. We walk through the wide expanse of the front yard in silence, and on arriving at the portico, Torren uses the door knocker—a metallic black object with what looks like a portable coyote head at first glance.
Weird. There's a bullet in its mouth.
Before I can look any closer, the door opens to a lovely older woman with her blonde(almost white) hair tightly done up in a bun. She's wearing a servant's outfit, eyes questioning. Her attention moves to me, and the initial confusion in them vanishes.
“Pauline,” Torren says, “if you would be so kind as to—”
“I will, alright,” she cuts him short, beaming. “In fact, I'll go tell him now.”
That familiar pit of dread starts making its way up my stomach again as Pauline grabs my hand, walking me in.
“Wait here while I inform Mr Rivera of your presence.”
I start pacing as she stalks off, unable to even take in the beauty of their vestibule as my mind runs over what I will say to Jayden’s father.
A man whose influence over the town—and the school as a whole, apparently trumps that of my stepfather’s.