Angelview Academy The Complete - E.M. Snow Page 0,3

the fan, and I drink in the breeze as I wait for my screen to flicker to life. It takes a few minutes, but as soon as it does, I open Google and type Angelview Academy into the search bar.

The school’s official website is the first thing to pop up. I click on the link and explore some of the pages, oohing and ahhing because the place looks gorgeous. The buildings are like English manors surrounded by lush green gardens and brick and cobblestone walkways, and there are a few photos of student events on the beach. Dragging my focus back to the task at hand, I look up the phone numbers for the Office of Admissions and the Office of Academic Success.

Both match the numbers in the letter.

Once again, my heart is speeding out of control, and I take several deep breaths to calm myself.

This can’t be real. It just can’t be. Good things don’t happen to me. Not like this. Not out of the blue. Not at all.

I grab my phone and punch in the number for the admissions office with shaky fingers.

On the second ring, a woman with a syrupy voice answers, “Angelview Academy, Office of Admissions, how may I direct your call?”

“Um…” I scramble for what to say, overwhelmed by the possibility of what this call could mean for me. “I-I just received a letter saying I’ve been accepted to your school, but I didn’t apply, so I’m not sure—”

“Let me transfer you to an admissions representative. Just one moment, please.”

The line switches, and classical music with violins plays. Before I have a chance to gather my wits, another voice speaks into my ear, this one male and youthful and enthusiastic.

“This is Anthony, how can I help you?”

“Uh, hi, Anthony,” I stammer. “My name’s Mallory Ellis. I just received a letter saying I’ve been admitted to your school, but I didn’t—”

“Oh, Miss Ellis, we’ve been expecting your call.”

Holy shit. “You have?” I manage.

“Of course! We are very, very excited by your admission to the academy and were hoping you would accept.”

“But … I didn’t apply,” I say for the third time. “I didn’t even know Angelview existed before I received your letter.”

“As part of a new diversity initiative, we’ve started reaching out to high schools across the country for recommendations of students they believe could prove successful at our institution,” he explains. “Yours was one of the top names on our list.”

What the actual fuck? “Really?” I squeak, and he gives a soft chuckle.

“Yes, you came highly recommended.”

I want to ask by who, but I keep my mouth shut. I am a good student and I was a solid athlete, swimming and boxing as much as I could before the accident. But that was all by Rayfort standards and the only thing Rayfort High is really known for is its football team and marching band. Compared to other, better schools, I’m likely average at best. Since average usually doesn’t get recruited for anything—and the fact I completed the second half of my junior year online—there has got to be a major mistake.

But this mistake is my ticket out.

My fresh start.

And I’ll be an idiot if I don’t take it.

So, when Anthony’s cheerful voice interrupts my thoughts to ask if I’ll be attending, I speak without considering that I might be fucking up.

“Yes,” I say, too excited to flinch at the desperation in my voice. I am desperate. And this is my chance to take my life back. “Yes, I would like to accept your invitation.”

2

“You can still change your mind, you know.”

Forehead crinkling, I focus my attention on Carley. She’s standing in the doorway of my bedroom, dressed in pale pink scrubs, watching as I finish packing what few belongings I have left. Her expression is weary, her big blue eyes dulled with concern. I offer her a reassuring smile and shake my head.

“We’ve been over this a million times. I’m not changing my mind. This is a good thing, remember? I’m going to get an amazing education, and when I graduate and become a rich bitch, I’ll buy you a big ass house by the Gulf.”

The corner of her mouth tilts up, but I can tell she’s still reluctant about my decision.

“You’ve just been through so much, Mal,” she says on a deep sigh before raking her teeth over her bottom lip. “I don’t want you to make any rash decisions.”

“This isn’t a rash decision,” I try to assure her for the thousandth time since