Southie seems to be the better bet, out of the three, but it’s still incredibly expensive, and farther than I’d like. Regardless, it’s obvious that the dorm is designed to be affordable to the less fortunate students of Rothford—the monthly stay is only three hundred dollars for a shared two-bedroom—and I’ll need to supplement that allowance with more than a thousand per month if I want to live in town.

I can’t do it. Not with babysitting money. I’d need another job on top of that, and if I take one, when will I have time to study? My scholarship is merit-based. They made it perfectly clear it’s only valid so long as I pass my classes, and I know better than to think they were kidding about any part of the fine print.

I’m screwed.

“Maybe you could find a roommate in southie?” Lily offers.

“I looked.” In fact, I only looked at shared accommodations, because an apartment for myself is way beyond my means. “It’s still a lot of money. And from what I’ve read, southie isn’t super safe at night, either.”

Lily’s grimace tells me everything I need to know.

I am thoroughly fucked.

She fidgets. “Maybe…”

But Lily leaves it at that, changing her mind.

My heart stops in my chest, guessing what she almost said.

Maybe I should call Keller.

Ask him for help.

Everything that’s happened to me over the last two days, good and bad, can be traced back to him. He has an insane degree of control in this school. Maybe he could change the board’s mind.

He’ll have a price for that. I may not have known him for long, but I already understand that everything he does comes with a cost. But so far, I’ve been able to pay my dues.

“Yeah.” I remind myself to breathe in and out. “I don’t have his number. I’ll walk to the vesper tower, in case he’s home.”

Besides, something tells me this isn’t going to get resolved remotely. He’ll want a piece of me in return.

22. Claire

22

CLAIRE

My Wyvern House invitation lets me through the gates again.

I didn’t pay attention this morning, in my rush to leave, but the houses’ lane looks very different in broad daylight, like a well-to-do gated neighborhood. If it were my first time walking up here, I’d expect kids riding their bikes, happy little dogs, minivans. Instead, the street’s empty.

Call me paranoid, but I think I feel eyes following my progress.

I take forever to get to the tower at the end of the road.

Making myself cross the drive takes all of my strength. I keep my eyes downcast, because I can't bear to watch his stupidly beautiful face or that infuriating smirk, like he hasn't already destroyed my former life and spat out the pieces.