Page 13 of Stone Crest: Rise of a Raven
She shrugs. “Not much to say. All they’re worried about is how much money they can make and appearances. As long as I fall in line and abide by their rules, they don’t have anything to say to me.”
My cold heart melts off a frozen layer for my new friend. I know exactly what that’s like.
“Any who.” She smiles. “I’ll be back late.”
“Have fun.”
"Oh! I almost forgot." She pulls something out of her pants pocket, then lays it on my dresser. "I told you to keep this." She grins. "Maybe motorcycle man could be the one."
I eye the crinkled white paper.My fortune.Is it weird that I thought of Jax Teller and ran into a man on a motorcycle minutes later? A little. But crazier things have happened.Like him ending up being my professor.
She leaves my room, and I step back over to the window. I still can’t shake the odd feeling, so I do another sweep across the dimly lit area before I reach up and draw down the blinds.
My phone rings. The nameArthurflashing across the screen with a middle finger emoji has me rolling my eyes. I slide the screen and answer.
“I haven’t been arrested or called to the dean’s office. You should be proud.”
I hear the scoff, and a smile hits my lips knowing I’ve already ruffled his feathers.
“Your sarcasm is not appreciated, Raven,” he snaps.
“That’s why you’re calling right? To make sure I’m falling in line?” I ask as I grab a pair of sweats from my drawer.
“Considering your past behavior I don’t think it’s too farfetched.” He clears his throat the way he always does when he was about to say something smart.
“It’s barely been a week. I haven’t even had time to get into trouble even if I wanted to,” I quip as I step into my pants.
I hear the clank of a glass, knowing he’s pouring himself a whiskey. Another effect I seem to have on people.
“I’ve spoken with Dean Wilkerson. He’s going to be keeping an eye on you.” He takes a drink. “I don’t want history repeating itself, Raven.”
I toss my towel aside and snatch up my hoodie. “Yes, father.”
“I’m serious. You have one year. I expect you to keep up your grades and graduate without any spectacles. I don’t want to hear of you causing any problems.”
I place my phone on the desk, tapping the speaker icon.
“I know you went through the loss of Bethany, but it’s been three months. Now I feel you just enjoy the dramatics.”
Tugging on my shirt, I flip the phone off as I look over at the picture that I have of me and Bethany attached to my dresser mirror.
“Raven.”
“Yeah. Sorry. What was that?” I shake my head and grab my phone.
“Let me put it simply. Don’t fuck up.” Then the line goes dead.
“Love you too daddy dearest,” I mock as I throw my phone onto my black comforter.
Running my hands through my hair, I step back over to the window and peel back the blinds to squint out into the darkness. When I don’t see any movement, I decide I’m just on edge. Overthinking.
Shooting a glare at my phone, I plop down on the bed and fall back on the pillow. Obviously, my father has zero empathy and a stone cold heart. My best frienddied.In front of my eyes.All because of me.Everyone had a different grieving process. Was mine a little extreme? Probably. But it’s how I’ve coped. Shut off my feelings. It helped. It made the days easier. So did the alcohol, which my last university wasn’t very thrilled with. Apparently showing up to class drunk is frowned upon.
Pressing my thumbs to my eyes I groan. I had been doing better. I stopped drinking when I totaled my car last month, which triggered this sudden relocation, but the other stuff, I wasn’t ready. It was easier to stay in my bubble and try to get out from under my father’s thumb as quickly as possible.
The first week went by faster than I thought. It was Friday, which meant I had Locke’s class again today. I went straight from my English class to his. No stops. I was actually early, and the first one in the lecture hall.
The room is quiet, not a soul in sight yet. We still had almost fifteen minutes until class officially started so I sat down and decide to look over the syllabus again.
