Page 93 of The Ruthless Note

Du-dum. Du-dum.

The conference room has no windows at all. Thin, plastered walls were erected in order to give something close to privacy. Someone threw a desk and some chairs in here too.

No thought to comfort.

Just the bare essentials.

I wish Miller would take a page out of the designer’s book, cut the fluff and skip to the point.

“But,” Miller says finally, lacing his fingers together, “there are rules. Guidelines. It’s what separates Redwood Prep from every other school out there. We try to do our best, but even charity has its limits.”

Principal Harris bobs his head along, eyes closed like Miller’s words are a code he’ll live and die by.

Miller’s speech percolates in my mind. Did he just call us ‘charity’? Like we’re dogs sniffing around his garbage?

Sol’s muscles are tightening. I can see him making fists beneath the table.

I glance over at Serena. She’s got a dark, humorless smile on her face. If she could, she’d probably be flicking her lighter to keep her nerves in check.

As it stands, we both know that Miller is full of crap and this speech won’t end well for one or all of us.

“Our music program was established and respectable long before Jarod Cross threw his money at it.” The slight tilt of distaste at the edge of his words reveals just how much love Miller has for Cross. “But he did contribute heavily to sharpen what Redwood Prep already had in place. And Miss Cooper,” he juts a finger at me, “was chosen specifically to return to that program.”

“Can you just cut to the point?” I blurt, tired of his speech. Christa must take after her father. They both like to hear themselves talk.

Principal Harris leans forward, his eyes bulging out of his sweaty face. “Cadence, have some respect.”

Respect is earned, not given.

I don’t think I’m wrong to demand Miller respect our time the way he expects us to respect his.

“I was in the middle of something important,” I say.

Sure, playing guitar for the cafeteria ladies might not mean jack to Miller or Principal Harris, but it was another step in me getting over my stage fright. Another step in me healing from the awful memories of that dark, damaging place.

It’s confusing as hell that Dutch was the one who hauled me a step closer to the light when he is the very epitome of darkness, but I’m not going to let that drag my celebration down.

Not the way Miller is trying to do.

I stare with cold eyes at Christa’s dad, my shoulders coiling to my ears. Miller and I had an understanding, but from the sharp, calculative looks he keeps throwing at me, I smell a betrayal.

“It’s okay.” Miller calms Harris with a raised hand. His lips curl up almost gleefully as he informs me, “The music program has a limited number of spots. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, that is by design. Redwood Prep is a leader in all areas, but a shining light in the music industry. We don’t mass-produce. We refine a chosen few to carry on our legacy in the world.”

I try hard not to roll my eyes, but I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.

“Principal Harris?” Christa’s dad motions for him to take over.

“Yes, well,” Principal Harris presses his lips together, “although all three of you entered Redwood Prep on a music scholarship, we cannot allow more than two of you to continue in the music program.”

“What?”

Serena’s back goes rigid.

Sol glares and says nothing.

Miller breaks it down again. “We originally had two scholarship students. But now because of Jarod Cross, we have three. We cannot allocate funds to everyone.”

I breathe out through my nose. “Are you saying you’re going to kick one of us out of Redwood?”

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