Page 14 of Cry Madness

Phone still in hand, I slow my pace as I approach my SUV. My stomach flip-flops, and my hand flies to my mouth to smother a gasp.Shit, shit, shit. Red flags wave wildly in front of my eyes. Warning alarms ring in my ears as I zero in on the small, folded rectangular paper tucked neatly under the windshield wiper. My first instinct is to call… I don’t know. The police? Ivory? But I call no one, because it could be anything. A flyer advertising a frat party. An announcement for the new coffee shop that recently opened. A call for a campus protest. Literally anything. My brain, however, snaps right into the worst-case scenario and shifts me into full panic mode. Fight-or-flight instinct activated. I swing around, scanning the parking and Brakel Green.

There’s no threat.

He’snot here.

At least, I don’t see him.

I shrug off my backpack and keep the cell phone in my hand as I dig for my keys. Damn near hyperventilating. I scramble into the SUV and immediately lock the doors, toss the bag on the passenger’s seat, and race the hell out of the lot as if Satan himself is hot on my tail.

Look, it’s never a bad thing to err on the side of caution. In fact, I take an ungodly long and zigzagged route to Dapper Dame’s while keeping a cautious eye on the rearview mirror. I even make four consecutive turns to complete a circle to ensure no one is on my tail. Only when I note that I’m not being followed does my breathing calm and my heart rate slow back to its normal pace. And when I finally arrive at the dress shop and cautiously slideout from behind the wheel, I check what’s on my windshield. My fingers tremble as I unfold the paper, and…

…damn you, Maddox Hathorne.

Jesus Christ, this man.

I returned to Wonderland to escape a crazy stalker, not gain a new one.

Life, however, is a brutal bitch that always seems to have a way of destroying an excellent plan, because here’s Maddox, being a creeper who leaves notes on my car.

Eat me.

With Love, M

That’s what the note reads…

…along with a coupon for a free cupcake from the Tea Party, the best bakery in town.

This is Maddox’s way of telling me he remembers that their cupcakes are my favorite.

Well, he can take his coupon and shove it right up his ass.

Or, on second thought, I shouldn’t be rash because I could use a damn cupcake after the scare he gave me.

FIVE

“Everything’s got a moral, if only you can find it.”

—Duchess,Alice in Wonderland

“You look like a deep breath.” Ivory gestures at me with a wave of her hand. “Bunch those shoulders up any higher and they’re going to touch your earlobes.” She grabs me by the upper arms and gives me a playful little shake. “Relax. This is supposed to be fun.”

I’m trying to have fun. Truly. But I’m still suffering from the after-effects of Maddox’s scare. Tempted, for the thousandth time, to admit the real reason why I came crawling home, I bite my tongue to keep the confession safely locked behind my teeth. Once I knew I couldn’t stay in Riverton, I came up with a bullshit excuse about not being able to handle Krobes’s academic workload. Blah, blah, blah…

At first, I was a bit…miffed…at how easily everyone bought that load of crap, but I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised.After The Accident, when I mistakenly took a few too many pills, people looked at me differently. They believed the worst, that what happened was intentional, and some saw me as weak.

Poor, fragile Alice Knightly couldn’t hack it after her father died.

Poor, fragile Alice Knightly couldn’t hack it at Krobes.

If they only knew whatactuallyhappened to me in Riverton. Why I had to leave. Ivory would have a coronary event. And Maddox… Well, he’d commit outright murder, and I refuse to have my bullshit be the gasoline to set fire to those embers simmering inside him.

My mother knows the truth, though, and her first question was,“Alice, what did you do to instigate it?”Because,of course, it was my fault. My mother: world-class victim-blamer.

With a falsely dismissive shrug, I say, “I’m not exactly thrilled about attending Katherine’sgrand soiree.” I emphasize the last two words as I grab a frilly pink dress off a nearby rack. I hold it up to my body and do a little twirl, then flutter my lashes. “How’s this? Too much?”

Ivory bursts out laughing. “No fluff is ever enough!” She snatches a big, blue number off the rack behind her and holds it up to her chin. “This totally brings out my eyes.”

“Girl, stop.” I replace the dress, then scroll through the rack of gowns to find another over-the-top dress. “Now, this one is perfect,” I announce, showing her my selection.