[Atticus] Evangeline has been suspiciously quiet lately. She’s up to something, I can tell, and knowing Evie the way that I do, it is something she doesn’t want me to know about. But at least she doesn’t seem angry anymore which means she is at least thinking about her actions. Or at least one can hope. I hit the track early this morning and ran an easy three miles. The obstacle course I made for Liliana is still in the corner, a little damp with morning dew but otherwise intact. I chuckle remembering how ridiculous she looked trying to make it up and over the cones. She was in such a good mood afterward but then Evangeline had to ruin everything with the destroyed uniform. I’m starting to wonder if Evie is going out of her way to sabotage my efforts. Is our relationship even about us anymore, or is it about revenge? When I return from my run, a letter from my family is waiting for me just inside the door. It’s from my sister, Janus. Max, I hope the year is going well. I
[Lily]If you were to ask me before today if a man like Atticus Preston could cry, I would have told you it was impossible. Because crying would mean you can feel something profound enough to hurt you. To have the ability to feel so deeply means you have a heart. Atticus Preston the bully has no heart. He is all smiles and flirting and cruel manipulation. He doesn’t have the depth of emotion for true pain. But this person crying in my arms--he is not the bully, he is someone else. I’m not sure when I started singing, but as I pet his hair, a melody that my mother used to sing bubbled forth from the depths of my memory. After several minutes, Atticus’ breathing calmed, his sobs slowly ceasing. Taking a deep breath, he rises to his feet and extends his hand. “Walk with me.”"I'm not very good at walking," I look down at my leg. His smile is fragile, his eyes and cheeks red from crying. "That's okay, you can lean on me."With my arm around his shoulder, we slowly wander into the wood
[Lily]I could still feel the burn of Atticus' lips as I watched his car drive away. It wasn't a kiss, it was an assault, a fit of anger and frustration. And yet…"He is grieving," I say, trying to convince myself that it must be true. "He didn't mean it." But even as I say these words I do not believe them entirely. There was pain there, so much pain, but I can’t help but feel there was something else. He feels so much more than he lets on to others. He wants people to see him as confident, cocky, and in control. But he is still just a kid, just like me. 17 years old is so young to feel the weight of an entire family dynasty on his shoulders. He was acting in anger and grief. But that doesn’t mean everything he said or did was wrong. It just feels like lately I cannot speak to Atticus, not with the unpredictable flavor of his feelings. These days I’m not sure if I’m going to get the bitter or the sweet. Looking down at my outfit, I see the changes that Madison made--the torn hem
[Liliana] I placed the photo of my mother on the wall next to my mirror. I tried not to think too much of the mystery it presents with a teacher in the photo, but I can’t stop myself. There is more to this story than Professor Devin was letting on. He had said he had seen her around school when they were students. He never mentioned he had photographed her, nor had he ever mentioned that he worked with her in the fashion world. But I also didn’t have much of a conversation with him. Maybe it wasn’t so much that he was hiding anything but a lack of opportunity. I think today would be a good day for me to drop in on one of Madison’s classes. But that can wait until tomorrow. Today, I need rest. If I’m lucky I’ll get to sleep long enough to forget about today and everything else. “Liliana Adare,” there is a knock on the door. So much for my nap. Dean Michaels is standing outside of the door along with a man holding an electronic screwdriver and a bag that rattles with odds and ends
[Lily] The first thing I do as soon as I get on the airplane is email Nyx. She lives in New York, and I want to check in on her. “I miss you so much! Please be okay!” I write before pressing send. The message to my grandfather takes a bit longer. ____________________ Dear Grandfather, By the time you see this letter, I will already be in New York. I realize that I should have written to you sooner and I apologize, but things have been moving so quickly. Atticus Preston and the other Legacies have decided to try and make amends this year for the terrible treatment they gave me in the past. Atticus swears that he has become a new person and that he wants to be my friend. So far, for the most part, he has been a very good friend and I am surprised at how nice some of the other Legacies have been as well. I am currently living in Mom’s old room. It’s weird, being in a space that once belonged to her, but also comforting. The reason I’m heading to New York is because Madison St.
[Nyx] I’ve been trying to leave my house for over a week, but my father insists on keeping me under house arrest. When he found out about the locks on my dorm room door, we had a “conversation.” I fell apart, telling him about Lily, the Legacy Seven, and of course Atticus Preston and his obsession with my best friend. And then I told him about the skeleton keys. He was livid. The thought of my being exposed to those “privileged old-money brats” whose ancestors probably enslaved ours, made him see red. He called the dean of the school, who would neither confirm nor deny my “allegation”--which of course verified the truth of my words. So he began calling his attorneys. Being a music mogul does have its advantages, but unfortunately not enough to take on the mega-corporations behind the Legacy families. They said they’d try, but unless we can PROVE what we claim, there is nothing they can do. Essentially, there is nothing we can do to protect ourselves. “The best thing you can
[Lily] Our first stop on the itinerary was St. Claire Studios in Uptown. I don’t know what I was expecting. I had never been involved in fashion, nor had I been anywhere near a fashion house. Even though Adare Industries has an entire fashion branch to its overarching arts-based philanthropy projects, I have never even been allowed to attend formal functions. At first, my grandfather said it was “for my protection,” because I was “too young” and he wanted to keep me safe.But then one night, after one too many glasses of wine, he confessed what I know must be the truth. “Fashion is full of predators. I don’t want you to end up becoming a whore like your mother. Never again. Never another Adare.”The fashion house takes up the top 20 floors of the building with the remaining 40 divided up between other businesses, including an art gallery on the bottom three floors. By New York standards, it is a medium-sized skyscraper, not one of the biggest by far, and several dozen stories more
[Lily] “Why would you show me this?” As the photographer continues to snap photos of the entire interaction, I fight to hold my anger down as if my family’s dishonor was nothing more than entertainment. “Were you trying to hurt me?” Madison’s shock looks genuine enough, but Evie’s glee-filed leer from across the room ruins the effect as the other Legacies gather around, expressing looks of dour sympathy. “Is this all just some sick joke to you?” “I don’t understand?” Madison looks truly shocked. “We at St. Claire are very proud of this image. It won a Pulitzer.” “That’s great!” I exclaim. There is another flash and I turn on the photographer. “Stop taking my photo!” I scream at him. He takes another photo. I step forward. Atticus steps between us. “The young lady said to stop.” His voice is hard and flat. The photographer takes a step away from the imperious force which is Atticus Preston, growing smaller in his shadow. “I...I’m just doing my job,” he sputters, glancing o