Page 15 of Hush Money
A lot of the kids in class seem highly interested in that. They surround his desk, talking to him about his family, their compound, his dad. But I just sit at my desk. Money doesn’t impress me, because most of the people I know who have it don’t tend to share. They don’t use it for the good of those around them. So it doesn’t really change much.
There are a lot of famously rich kids at this school—sons and daughters of celebrities and politicians. It’s like nepotism runs through the dang water fountains.
But going here gives me a much better shot at getting an academic scholarship for college. And if I don’t get that, I don’t go.
So I’ll suck it up for the next four years.
I’ll try and stay as invisible as I can.
Being alone isn’t scary to me. I’m alone a lot. Even at home. Even when the house is full, I’m still on my own a lot. My parents divorced when I was young, and I don’t see my dad a lot. My older brother moved up to Boston before I was even in middle school, and my mom works a lot.
The only person who genuinely enjoys my company is my Nanny. Her apartment is about three blocks from ours, and I probably spend more time there than I do at ours.
When she’s not home, I spend most of my time by myself. I read a lot. I walk around the city. I go to museums.
I learned at a young age that it was better to spend time by myself than be around the people who made me wish I was.
Like my mom.
My mom didn’t ask for the life she has.
My dad had a good job. His family had money. She thought she would always have that. But when they divorced, she had to go back to work. And when ends weren’t meeting, she had totake a part-time job too. It’s not hard to see that she resents me. She criticizes my hobbies and interests and is constantly pushing me to look into “more lucrative” career plans. Like I knew what “lucrative” meant in eighth grade. While my friends were dreaming of being fashion designers or professional athletes, she was pushing me to look into sales or engineering.
And when I told her I didn’t want to, she rolled her eyes.
Starting at the end of sophomore year, I get to pick a career track and choose my elective classes based off of that. I haven’t told her yet, but I am really interested in sociology or psychology.
People interest me.
She just doesn’t realize that, because I don’t interest her.
My next few classes whizz by, and my planner is already jam-packed with deadlines and due dates. I pull my school map out of my notebook as discreetly as possible to remind myself how to get to the cafeteria. This school is a damn maze.
“B Lunch?” a voice asks from behind me, making me jump.
I turn around to see him staring back at me. The Everett kid. I swallow and look around. He’s got to be talking to someone else. He raises an eyebrow. “Genevieve, right?” I bite my lip.
Guess not.
I nod slowly.
“Y-yeah,” I stammer. “And you are…” Sweet Lord. I don’t know his first name. I know his dad is Cato Everett. I know his older brother is Julian.
But I can’t remember his fucking name, and he knows mine.
How ironic.
I feel heat flush my cheeks, and he smiles.
“Keaton,” he says, sticking a hand out to shake mine. I move my books over to my other arm and take his. I smile shyly.
“It’s nice to meet you—officially,” I say with a curt nod. “And yes, B Lunch. I just have no idea how to get to the damn cafeteria. This building is stupid big.”
He laughs.
“It is,” he says. “I am going to go out for lunch. Do you want to tag along?” he asks, nodding toward a tall man standing by the side door of the building, dressed in a black polo and slacks. And as I look at him, I realize it’s his security.
I think about it for a second.
