The Secret Girl In Class

CHAPTER THREE:PAPER WINGS AND ROTTING CABBAGE.

CHAPTER 3: PAPER WINGS AND ROTTING CABBAGE.

Elara's

The alley behind the Grandview smelled like rotten cabbage, stale beer, and bleach.

Mostly bleach.

It clung to my clothes after every shift and followed me everywhere.

I leaned my head against the brick wall and closed my eyes.

My knees were killing me.

I'd spent the last four hours scrubbing the lobby floor, and my hands still stung from the cleaning chemicals.

The night air cut through my thin uniform, but I didn't mind.

The cold was keeping me awake.

I reached into the deep pocket of my apron.

My fingers touched paper.

I pulled out the envelope.

It was the same cream-colored envelope I'd found earlier that morning.

Ravenscroft College.

I'd been thinking about it all day.

I'd barely managed to finish my shift without opening it.

Now it was finally mine.

I stared at the envelope for a few seconds.

It looked completely out of place in that filthy alley.

Too clean.

Too expensive.

Too important.

My stomach twisted.

What if it was a rejection?

I didn't know what I'd do.

I'd go back to the same job tomorrow.

And the day after that.

I'd keep scrubbing floors, carrying trays, and handing over most of my pay to my parents.

I'd go back to that cold little house and pretend I wasn't counting down the days until I could leave.

I thought about the night I'd told my mother I'd qualified for the scholarship exam.

I was excited.

I'm really excited.

She hadn't even looked away from the television.

“That’s nice, Elara.”

Then she'd asked me if I could work an extra shift because the electricity bill was overdue.

That was all.

No congratulations.

No questions.

Nothing.

I looked down at the envelope again.

Maybe I shouldn't expect anything different from this letter.

Still, I'd worked too hard to be afraid of opening it now.

“Just do it,” I whispered.

My thumb slipped beneath the flap.

The wax seal cracked.

I pulled out the letter.

My hands were shaking.

I unfolded the thick paper and looked at the first line.

Dear Ms. Caldwell,

My heart jumped.

I read the next sentence.

It is with immense pleasure that we write to inform you of the results of the annual Ravenscroft Meridian Scholarship Examination.

I stopped.

I couldn't read any further.

My eyes moved down the page.

I was looking for the words I already knew.

We regret to inform you.

Unfortunately.

We are unable to offer you a place.

Anything like that.

But I didn't see them.

Instead, I found this:

Your aptitude scores were exceptional. You achieved the highest score across all national districts.

I blinked.

Then read it again.

My eyes moved to the next line.

We are therefore delighted to offer you a full-ride, unconditional scholarship to Ravenscroft College, covering tuition, boarding, and all associated expenses.

I stared at the page.

I didn't breathe.

I read it again.

And again.

“Full-ride.”

The words came out as a whisper.

Then I covered my mouth.

A laugh escaped anyway.

It turned into a sob almost immediately.

I pressed the letter against my chest and shut my eyes as tears ran down my face.

I had done it.

I actually had.

For once, something had gone right.

All those nights studying under a streetlamp because the power had been cut.

All those mornings going to work hungry.

All those second-hand textbooks I'd bought instead of food.

All of it was worth something.

I was going to Ravenscroft.

I was getting out.

For the first time, I could see a future that didn't involve that house.

A future that belonged to me.

I laughed again, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand.

Then a voice spoke from the darkness.

“I wouldn't celebrate just yet.”

My smile disappeared.

I opened my eyes.

Someone was standing at the mouth of the alley.

A man.

He stepped into the weak light.

Everything about him looked wrong for this place.

His charcoal-gray suit was perfectly fitted. His shoes were spotless. One hand rested on a silver cane.

He looked like he belonged in some expensive London office, not beside a dumpster behind a hotel.

Then I saw his face.

Sharp features.

Pale skin.

And eyes that were almost silver.

They fixed on me without blinking.

My fingers tightened around the letter.

“Who are you?”

My voice came out quieter than I intended.

He didn't answer.

I took a small step backward.

My shoulder touched the brick wall.

He took another step toward me.

I glanced toward the street.

Nobody.

No one was coming.

I bent quickly to pick up the letter.

The cane came down.

The silver tip landed on the concrete, trapping the edge of the parchment beneath it.

I stood still.

The man looked down at the letter.

Then back at me.

A faint smile touched his mouth.

It wasn't friendly.

“You're Elara Caldwell.”

It wasn't a question.

“How do you know my name?”

He ignored that.

Instead, he slowly lifted the cane, picked up the letter, and held it between two fingers.

My stomach tightened.

“Give that back.”

“You really don't understand what you've been handed, do you?”

“What are you talking about?”

He looked at the scholarship letter.

Then his eyes returned to mine.

“That scholarship was never supposed to be yours.”

I stared at him.

“What?”

He stepped closer.

The alley suddenly felt much smaller.

“You think you earned your way into Ravenscroft.”

His voice was calm.

“You didn't.”

My throat tightened.

“Who are you?”

This time, he smiled.

“My name doesn't matter yet.”

He held the letter out toward me.

I reached for it.

His fingers tightened before I could take it.

“But your parents' mistakes do.”

My heart skipped.

“What did my parents do?”

For the first time, something changed in his expression.

Not anger.

Not amusement.

Something colder.

“They stole something that didn't belong to them.”

I shook my head.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“You will.”

He finally released the letter.

I grabbed it and pulled it against my chest.

He turned away.

“Wait!”

He stopped.

I swallowed.

“Why are you here?”

He looked over his shoulder.

“Because your acceptance changes everything.”

My pulse quickened.

“What does that mean?”

He stared at me for a long moment.

Then he said quietly,

“Ask your father about the name Harrington.”

My entire body went still.

Before I could ask another question, he walked away.

I watched him disappear into the fog at the end of the alley.

My fingers tightened around the scholarship letter.

Harrington.

I'd heard that name before.

Not from my father.

Not from my mother.

From somewhere else.

Somewhere I couldn't quite remember.

I looked down at the letter in my hands.

For the first time since opening it, the words full-ride scholarship didn't make me feel free.

They made me afraid.

Because someone had known about my scholarship before I did.

Someone had opened my letter.

Someone knew my parents' secrets.

And now, apparently, they knew me too.

I looked toward the dark street where the stranger had disappeared.

Then I noticed something tucked beneath the scholarship letter.

A small piece of paper.

I pulled it out.

There was only one sentence written on it.

Your father knows why you were chosen.

My breath caught.

I turned the paper over.

There was a second line.

Ask him before Ravenscroft does.