Page 5 of The Consequence of You
Stop being so ungrateful.
I worked hard, and I got good grades.No, I got brilliant grades. Most people would be ecstatic with these results. I plaster on a smile as I tell myself not to be so bloody ungrateful. As I turn to tell Dahlia my results, I catch Asher studying me.
“Fail something, did you?” He raises an eyebrow, having clearly misinterpreted my disappointed expression. I turn the paper towards him.
“Nope. All good here.” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “All good.”
Asher tilts his head and holds my stare. Shivering uncomfortably under his scrutiny, my mouth dries.
“Interesting.”
Our mutual friends are deep in conversation with one of their old professors, so any hope of Dahlia running interference is futile.
“How about you?” I ask politely before he can drill further into my answer. “Are you happy with your results?” Asher is a top student. He makes everything look easy. He was entered for the Maths Olympiad at twelve. The youngest entry in the school, and he finished highest in the county. I’ve heard staff talking about him being gifted. Everyone knows he likes to have a good time, but I can’t imagine he’s scored anything but top grades across the board.
He turns his paper to show me, and my suspicion is confirmed. Five grade A*s. “Congratulations. That’s impressive.” Despite the animosity between us, I genuinely mean it. He’s naturally bright, but to achieve that is no mean feat. Most students only study three subjects, so to study five and get those grades is exceptional. I expect him to gloat, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just replies,
“The Duke and Duchess will be most pleased.”
He doesn’t look thrilled with his results, and for a split second, I feel sorry for him. Perhaps, like me, there’s something taking the shine off the day for him too. I shrug off the thought. He and I have nothing in common.
Dahlia and Grayson turn and congratulate us on our results before we head back outside. There’s a small crowd forming as parents wait for their offspring to share in their celebrations. I spot Dahlia’s family. Her mum and dad are here with her grandmother, Dee. Dahlia and Grayson head over to them and I watch as they congratulate them and share hugs. They invited me to join them for lunch after this, but I hang back for now, allowing them some privacy.
Asher groans next to me, and I follow his eyeline. His parents are here, as well as a guy who I recognise as Asher’s older brother. Like Asher, he’s tall and good-looking, with the same air of sophistication. There are a couple of other people in their group with camera equipment. I can’t believe they have professional photographers with them. Actually, I don’t know why I’m surprised. Seems about right based on what I know of the family.
When Asher makes no move to head over, the group approach us. One photographer begins snapping photos, and I blink as the flash momentarily blinds me.
“Lord Pennington, what were your results? Were theyall top grades? Who’s this with you? Is it your girlfriend?” Questions are fired at him from all directions, and I realise these people aren’t just photographers; they’re journalists.
What kind of family courts press attention by actively bringing them to their son’s school? As another flash catches my eye, I excuse myself and shake my head. Jesus. Any pity I felt for him is quashed. No wonder Asher is so full of self-importance when he’s being followed around like he’s some sort of superstar.
CALLIE-AGE 16
Asher Pennington was back. I heard the excited whispers in the hallways before seeing him in the flesh. He was a popular student who had been banished to a boarding school abroad for a year after one too many pranks. Not a correctional facility, but an opportunity to better himself. The boys were taking bets on whether his year away had turned him into a goody two shoes or whether he’d be the same fun, trouble causing teenager he was before he left. The girls, however, were focused on something else entirely. They said he’d had a glow-up of epic proportions. That he’d returned looking like a god amongst men. The laughable thing was that he was hardly an ugly duckling before he left.
Personally, I couldn’t give a shit he was back. He’d made it quite clear over the years how much he actively disliked me. I’d never figured out why, but whenever we were around each other, he acted as though I’d offended him. Directing scathing remarks, rude comments and disdainful looks my way at every opportunity.
We’d never been friends, and I planned on avoiding him, just as I had done before he’d left.
It was three days before I saw him in person. He was in the gymnasium, practising fencing. Dressed in white breeches and jacket, his mask at his feet, I almost didn’t recognise him. The rumours weren’t far wrong when they said he was God-like. It was hard to believe that level of handsome was real. His chiselled jaw tensed as he performed a lunge. His jute and stab were executed with perfection. Even the bead of sweat he wiped off his brow looked like it had been AI generated. I laughed. It was almost ridiculous. But I got it now. I got why the girls were salivating over him. And, of course, there was his wealth. Other than the scholarship students, the pupils were all from money, but the Penningtons were known for being a level up. That, combined with the title attached to his name, made Lord Asher Pennington one of the most eligible boys in the country.
I must have been the only girl in the school who wasn’t interested in his attention, and I had no intention of that changing anytime soon. Unfortunately, he seemed to have other ideas.
After beating his arguably more experienced opponent and turning to greet the small crowd that gathered, it was me he foisted his attention on. His bright green eyes caught mine, and his triumphant smile immediately turned to a bitter snarl. I turned around, foolishly hoping his focus was on something or someone behind me. But there was no one there. I frowned. I hadn’t seen him for over a year. What reason did he have for continuing this pointless vendetta?
Well, fuck that guy. I spun on my heel and headed to the corner of the hall, scooping up my discarded hoodie and ignoring his frosty stare. As I walked back to my locker, I was barged in the shoulder.
“What did you do to Asher? He looked like he wanted to kill you back there. You must have done something awful to piss him off.” And then the next catty girl started.
“It’s that permanent scowl on her face. She brings the mood down in every room.”
“Didn’t your mama tell you if the wind blows, your face will stick like that?”
“She doesn’t have a mama!”
They stalked off down the hallway, cackling with laughter.
Urgh, what the hell? I was literally minding my own business. So now, not only did I have Asher Pennington hating on me, but also those girls too. For no fucking reason. Granted, I don’t smile as much as I used to, but the start of the new term had me in a shitty mood. It’s nine months since my mum died. And I’m not over it. I won’t ever be over it.
