Kings of Linwood Academy - The Complete Box Set: A Dark High School Romance Series Callie Rose (i read a book TXT) 📖

You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be here.

When I finally stand up to leave, my bones ache from not being able to hug her. We press our hands to the glass one last time—a gesture that always seemed a little cheesy in movies, but which now gives me the tiny spark of hope I need to keep going.

I leave the prison, which is on the far north side of Fox Hill, and head for the bus stop across the street. Mom hates that I take the bus to come visit her, but it’s not like the Fox Hill Correctional Center is the most dangerous place on earth. And I don’t really have a choice. Her car was seized as evidence, and I’d rather stick a hot butter knife through my eye than let Lincoln or any of the other kings of Linwood drive me.

The ride back to the Black family’s neighborhood is long and involves two transfers, but I don’t really care. I have nowhere else to be. It’s a Wednesday afternoon, and I should be in eighth period History right now, but I skipped school today just like I have every day since Mom’s arrest.

I wasn’t lying to her. I’ll start going again tomorrow. But it’s too late to make it to any classes today.

On the last leg of my trip, my phone buzzes in my purse, and I drag my gaze away from the increasingly fancy houses outside to dig it out of my bag.

HUNTER: Hey Low. This is your daily check-in to make sure you’re still alive.

I tug my bottom lip between my teeth as I read the message from my best friend back home in Arizona. She calls it her daily check-in, but hourly might be a better descriptor. I miss her so fucking much, but her constant stream of texts and frequent calls have made me feel a little bit less alone.

ME: Hey dummy. Yep, still alive.

HUNTER: How’s your mom?

ME: Okay… or as okay as possible, I guess. I just saw her.

HUNTER: God, this is so unbelievably fucked up. I told you my parents flipped when I told them, right?

ME: They didn’t believe it, did they??

HUNTER: Fuck no. They know your mom.

ME: Good.

HUNTER: If she needs like character witnesses or anything, you know we’ll be there in a heartbeat. I’ll testify in front of God and a jury and everyone. I don’t even care who.

ME: Thanks, dummy. Love you.

HUNTER: Love you more.

HUNTER: Hey, you wanna hear dumb, trivial life stuff or not? I thought maybe it would distract you, but maybe you don’t want a distraction.

ME: No, I need one. Lay it on me. What class are you in right now, btw?

HUNTER: Chemistry. Mrs. Lundt gives no shits. I didn’t even hide my phone under my desk.

HUNTER: Kevin and I broke up.

I grimace, shaking my head slightly. The news isn’t all that surprising—I had a feeling they were headed that way. And I think it’s probably a good thing. Hunter is tiny, but she makes up for it with a manic energy that would make a hummingbird look like a sloth. Kevin’s a nice guy, but I always felt like he was a little… flat for her. She needs someone who can meet her energy level, or if not meet it, at least appreciate it. Kevin tolerated it, and that’s just not good enough for my bestie.

Still, I can tell—even in a five-word text—that she’s sad about it.

ME: Ah that sucks. I’m sorry.

HUNTER: It’s for the best. It was time, it’s just… being alone again sucks, you know?

God, do I ever know.

This time last week, I had four boys on my side. Four boys I was starting to care for, really care for. Four boys who were starting to feel like they were mine.

And now, I’m more alone than I’ve ever been in my life.

ME: I wish I could hug the shit out of you right now.

HUNTER: Awww me too.

We keep texting back and forth as the bus trundles down the wide city streets, and even though we’re both nursing heartache, I think we manage to make each other feel better. As much as her break-up sucks, talking about something normal feels good right now.

She tells me she has to go when her Chemistry class lets out, promising to call me later. I check for any other messages on my phone—there are none, which isn’t that surprising—and drop it back in my bag.

Our text conversation got me almost all the way back to my destination, and as the bus rounds a corner onto the street where I’ll make my final stop, I can feel tension gathering in my muscles again.

I know I’m lucky Mr. Black offered to let me stay with them while my mom “sorts this all out”, but I hate living in that fucking house. If we had the money, I would’ve checked into a hotel so fast there would’ve been nothing but a little smoke trail left behind me.

But we don’t.

We barely have enough money for mom’s lawyer, and I know that won’t last long once the fees start piling up.

So I’m living under the charity of Samuel and Audrey Black and doing my level best to avoid their son.

I yank the cord to request a stop as the bus rolls through a wide intersection, and when the driver pulls over, I push open the back doors and step out onto the sidewalk. November in Connecticut is a lot chillier than it is in Arizona, and I cross my arms over my chest as the bus rolls away with a hydraulic hiss.

The Black’s house is still over a mile away—their fancy-pants neighborhood isn’t really the type to have many bus stops—so I turn and head in that direction, walking at a fast clip to try to stay warm.

As I head down the sidewalk, a prickle of awareness brushes over the back of my neck. My steps slow slightly as all my focus shifts to the