he really has a lot of books, she thought as she took her seat and primly crossed her ankles.
“Miss Hunt, we have been unable to contact your father regarding a serious matter—”
Dionne’s heart pounded. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, feeling like her heart was about to take a one-way cruise up her throat.
Headmaster Payne shook his head and Dionne tried not to notice that his stiff toupee shifted just a bit. Not much. But some. “Not at all,” he assured her.
That made Dionne feel a little better.
“It’s concerning your tuition. I’m sure it’s just an oversight on your father’s part. And…if not, unfortunately the deadline for applying for tuition assistance has passed.”
Okay, that made Dionne feel big-time bad and she wished that she could shrivel into a little ball and roll out of his office from shame.
“We know your parents aren’t together.” HeadmasterPayne shook his head with a look of pity. “We didn’t have any contact information for your mother on file.”
Dionne frowned a bit as he pushed two huge manila envelopes toward her with one finger that felt like it was pointing at her accusingly.
You owe us.
You better pay us.
You don’t belong.
“Please give one to your mother and the other to your father.”
Dionne avoided his eyes as she grabbed the envelopes and quickly shoved them into her book bag.
“That’s all, Miss Hunt.”
With that her tuition-owing behind was dismissed.
Em-bar-a-sssssing.
She avoided eye contact with Miss Lyon as she scurried past her desk like a rat.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the period, but Dionne didn’t head to her next class or her locker or even to find Starr and Marisol.
Dionne zoomed through the hallway filling up with students headed to the first-floor bathroom. It was funny that even with the sound of students’ voices that mingled together like background noise, she could clearly hear the light ding of her bracelets hitting against each other.
LOVE, FAITH, PEACE and STRENGTH.
She needed all that and much, much more.
Dionne barely released her breath as she slammed inside one of the stalls and locked it. She dropped downonto the toilet seat and used shaking hands to yank her father’s manila envelope out of her book bag. She tore into it—knowing she could get away with opening it. Her eyes and mouth widened bit by bit as she read the letter, silently mouthing the words that sealed her fate.
Her mother’s words of advice had never seemed so clear:
I don’t want you to base your life on what your father has. If the money goes—and Lord knows that’s possible with the way he spending it—then the clothes and the thirty-grand-a-year private school and all the other bling-things you didn’t have a year ago will go, too.
Her father had until the end of next week to pay her tuition or it was definitely deuces to Pace Academy and that meant deuces to Starr, Marisol and her semi-fabulous life.
eleven
Starr
September 10 @ 11:30 a.m. | Mood: Vengeful
Starr was the queen of perfection.
Her boring uniform was perfectly pressed.
Her asymmetrical bob was perfectly coiffed and gleaming.
Her MAC lip gloss had her lips shining…as she kept her fake smile perfectly in place.
Starr cleared her throat as she stepped up from her spot between Dionne and Marisol to claim the mic at the center of the stage lit by a huge spotlight shaped like a star—of course. Where else would it be for the Starr?
Starr glanced over her shoulder at her party planner, Kyra Stone, standing off in the wings hidden by the long, cascading drapes. Starr gave her a look like “You better not screw this up.”
Kyra had handled both big-bash parties and small,intimate gatherings for her father and his closest celeb friends and business associates. She had been her mother and Starr’s first choice for making sure that Starr had a party to top all parties.
Starr faced the three hundred students filling the seats of the auditorium.
“Miss Hunt, we have been unable to contact your father regarding a serious matter—”
Dionne’s heart pounded. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, feeling like her heart was about to take a one-way cruise up her throat.
Headmaster Payne shook his head and Dionne tried not to notice that his stiff toupee shifted just a bit. Not much. But some. “Not at all,” he assured her.
That made Dionne feel a little better.
“It’s concerning your tuition. I’m sure it’s just an oversight on your father’s part. And…if not, unfortunately the deadline for applying for tuition assistance has passed.”
Okay, that made Dionne feel big-time bad and she wished that she could shrivel into a little ball and roll out of his office from shame.
“We know your parents aren’t together.” HeadmasterPayne shook his head with a look of pity. “We didn’t have any contact information for your mother on file.”
Dionne frowned a bit as he pushed two huge manila envelopes toward her with one finger that felt like it was pointing at her accusingly.
You owe us.
You better pay us.
You don’t belong.
“Please give one to your mother and the other to your father.”
Dionne avoided his eyes as she grabbed the envelopes and quickly shoved them into her book bag.
“That’s all, Miss Hunt.”
With that her tuition-owing behind was dismissed.
Em-bar-a-sssssing.
She avoided eye contact with Miss Lyon as she scurried past her desk like a rat.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the period, but Dionne didn’t head to her next class or her locker or even to find Starr and Marisol.
Dionne zoomed through the hallway filling up with students headed to the first-floor bathroom. It was funny that even with the sound of students’ voices that mingled together like background noise, she could clearly hear the light ding of her bracelets hitting against each other.
LOVE, FAITH, PEACE and STRENGTH.
She needed all that and much, much more.
Dionne barely released her breath as she slammed inside one of the stalls and locked it. She dropped downonto the toilet seat and used shaking hands to yank her father’s manila envelope out of her book bag. She tore into it—knowing she could get away with opening it. Her eyes and mouth widened bit by bit as she read the letter, silently mouthing the words that sealed her fate.
Her mother’s words of advice had never seemed so clear:
I don’t want you to base your life on what your father has. If the money goes—and Lord knows that’s possible with the way he spending it—then the clothes and the thirty-grand-a-year private school and all the other bling-things you didn’t have a year ago will go, too.
Her father had until the end of next week to pay her tuition or it was definitely deuces to Pace Academy and that meant deuces to Starr, Marisol and her semi-fabulous life.
eleven
Starr
September 10 @ 11:30 a.m. | Mood: Vengeful
Starr was the queen of perfection.
Her boring uniform was perfectly pressed.
Her asymmetrical bob was perfectly coiffed and gleaming.
Her MAC lip gloss had her lips shining…as she kept her fake smile perfectly in place.
Starr cleared her throat as she stepped up from her spot between Dionne and Marisol to claim the mic at the center of the stage lit by a huge spotlight shaped like a star—of course. Where else would it be for the Starr?
Starr glanced over her shoulder at her party planner, Kyra Stone, standing off in the wings hidden by the long, cascading drapes. Starr gave her a look like “You better not screw this up.”
Kyra had handled both big-bash parties and small,intimate gatherings for her father and his closest celeb friends and business associates. She had been her mother and Starr’s first choice for making sure that Starr had a party to top all parties.
Starr faced the three hundred students filling the seats of the auditorium.
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