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“Papa enrolled me. Told me I messed up one too many times, so now I have to go here with the plebs. His words, not mine,” she says.

I laugh. I can see my uncle saying that. He wanted his kids at the predominately Russian school. Mabilia got expelled just before we went to Italy. I didn’t realize she wasn’t back yet. I’ve been a shitty cousin for not calling and checking in on her.

“Well, now we get to hang out at school together.” I smirk.

“Oh, fuck no. What the fuck are you doing here?” This comes from Orlando.

“I go here now.” Mabilia smiles.

“No, it was bad enough with one of you, but both of you. Fucking hell.” He shakes his head. “It’s too early for this.” He turns and walks away. “Stay out of trouble,” he yells out at us over a shoulder.

“So, you wanna give me the tour?” Mabilia asks.

“Sure, come on.” I link my arm with hers and we walk in together.

“Damn, there’re a lot of fine-ass guys here. You’ve been holding out on me,” she says, looking at all the crowds gathered around in their cliques.

“Not them,” I say when her gaze falls on Kenny and his group of jock friends. Connor isn’t there. Still, Mabilia needs to stay far away from the jocks.

“But they’re so pretty,” she says.

“The captain, Kenny, is Irish,” I tell her.

She laughs. “Papa would make an Irish stew out of him.”

When my phone pings with a message, I check it quickly and then pocket the device again when I see Connor’s name on the screen. “So, let me take you to student services and get your schedule sorted, or do you already have it?”

“I have it. And a locker, number four-one-one.”

“Up this hall. I’ll show you.” Her locker isn’t anywhere near mine.

“Hey, I tried to call you last night.” Krystal approaches us. “Mabilia, how are you?”

“Good, you?” My cousin doesn’t like Krystal. They’ve met a few times at parties. But Mabilia is polite.

“Good,” Krystal says.

“Why were you calling me?” I ask her.

“To see if you wanted to go to a party this weekend. You’re welcome to come too, Mabilia.” Krystal looks hopeful. She wants to be liked, always has.

“I can’t,” Mabilia says, dismissing her before turning to me. “I can catch up with you later.”

“Ah, you sure?” I ask her.

“Yep, positive.” As she says this, the bell rings.

“Show me your schedule.” I take the piece of paper from her hand. “Okay, your first class is down the hall, fourth door on the left.”

“So your cousin goes here now?” Krystal asks when Mabilia is out of earshot.

“Yep,” I say. “Who’s throwing this party anyway?”

“Kenny, who else?” she asks with a raised brow.

“I’ll think about it,” I tell her as I pull my phone out of my pocket and read the message from Connor.

Connor: