Michelle Madow - Diamonds in the Rough

“It’s only been half a day, and you can already tell that you’re different from the girls at Goodman,” Brett said, studying her. “And I mean that in the best way possible.”

“They just haven’t been exposed to much outside their little bubble.” Courtney gazed out at the lake—anything to keep her from getting lost in Brett’s forest-green eyes. Even if they weren’t together, they could be friends, right? She just needed to get her heart in tune with her brain. Which would be easier if it would stop racing every time he looked at her. “But I’m going to the first Habitat meeting tomorrow during lunch block. Maybe I’ll meet people I have more in common with there.”

“You might.” Brett nodded and took a bite of his sandwich. “I’ve never done Habitat, so I wouldn’t know.”

“I’m excited to find out what it’s about,” she said. “But I still don’t understand why Adrian and your mom didn’t want me working at the coffee shop at the Diamond. I thought they would be proud that I wanted to work.”

“I understand why you’d think that.” Brett scratched his head, as if figuring out where to begin. “But school is your job. Getting into a top college like Stanford or one of the Ivies takes more than good grades and a great SAT score. Everyone applying has those, so colleges want to see dedication and leadership in other areas, too. Were you part of any clubs at your old school, did you play sports, or were you involved in the theater?”

“I tutored once a week at the student tutoring center, and I’m going to the first student tutoring meeting after school today.” Courtney’s cheeks heated, and she broke off a piece of her sandwich. “I had to keep my grades up while working as many hours as I could to help out my family. I didn’t have time for anything else.”

“I get that.” Brett placed his hand over hers, the heat from his skin sending electricity through Courtney’s body. Her breathing slowed, her head spinning from his touch.

It took everything in her to pull away, and she sipped her water, as if it could wash away her feelings for him. It was unfair and unkind to lead him on when they couldn’t be together.

Pain flashed across his face—she hated knowing that she’d hurt him. But it was gone a second later, and he continued with what he was saying, as if that moment had never happened.

“I know you could have written an essay about your situation that would have blown the admission councils away,” he said. “But you’re not in that position anymore. Now you’re attending one of the most elite private schools in the state, and you’ll be competing to get into the top colleges against students who go to similar schools all over the country. Out of the last graduating class from Goodman, twenty percent of the students went to Ivies, fifty percent went to top-tier schools that are almost as competitive, and the rest went to other selective schools. Adrian and my mom want you to be prepared.”

“That makes sense,” Courtney said, although it was a lot to take in. At least this conversation was keeping her thoughts away from how much she wanted Brett to put his hand on hers again, or how every glance at his lips made her flash back to when he’d kissed her at the grand opening. And how much she wanted him to kiss her again. “But I can’t imagine those girls who were gossiping about parties and fashion going to Ivy league schools.”

“They’re shallow,” Brett said. “But they’re not stupid. They get good grades, and their parents will either donate to the college they want their kid to get into—like Adrian did for Goodman—or hire ‘college admission strategists’ to boost their applications and give them a better chance at being accepted to top schools.”

The reminder of how Adrian had bought her and her sisters into Goodman by funding the new sports center made Courtney sad at the unfairness of it all. “What’s a ‘college admission strategist’?”

“What it sounds like,” Brett said. “Someone who knows what colleges want and will sit down with a student and his or her parents, analyze the student’s academic history and strategize how to create the most successful application possible. For a few grand, of course.”

“And then that student has a better chance at getting into the school they want over someone who can’t afford a strategist.” Courtney shook her head. “That’s not fair, is it?”

“It’s not fair, but it’s reality.” He shrugged. “I’m not the biggest fan of everyone at Goodman myself, but not everyone here is shallow. You’ll find your place.”

Courtney wished she could feel as confident about that as he sounded. “I’m starting to understand why you liked your public school better.”

“I preferred the people at my old school,” Brett corrected her. “The teachers at Goodman are fantastic—they love what they do—and the classes are better, because they’re smaller and discussion-based. Plus, I want to go to UCLA for their film program. If a college admissions strategist can help me get there, even though you’re right that the system isn’t fair, I can’t turn the opportunity down. Wouldn’t you do anything to get into Stanford?”

“I think so,” Courtney said, although the realization that she would probably give in to such an unfair system made her stomach sink. “Sometimes it’s hard to believe this is all happening. I always wanted to go to Stanford, but deep down I knew it wouldn’t be possible.”

“What do you mean?” He looked as if he genuinely cared about her response. She loved the way Brett listened because he wanted to hear what she had to say, and not because he was just waiting for his next opportunity to speak. It made him different from most people she knew. “Why didn’t you think it would be possible?”

“Because if I left, who would take care of my mom and Savannah?” she said. “I probably would have ended up at the local community college so I could live at home and continue helping out. But now, to be talking about Stanford like it’s a real possibility…. can’t wrap my head around the opportunities I have now and what it means for my future.”

“You would have realized it when Peyton gained access to her trust fund.” Brett leaned forward, his eyes staring deep into her soul. “This was always bound to happen to you, Courtney. It just happened sooner than expected.”

She was speechless, hardly able to think or breathe. Looking into each other’s eyes was so personal, and it made it too easy for her feelings for him to fight their way to the surface when she needed to bury them.

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand why my mom refused help from Adrian,” she finally said, her voice wavering. “She never spoke about him—it was like he did something so horrible that she wanted to pretend he didn’t exist. I know she must have been worried out of her mind when I was kidnapped as a baby, and it sounds like she blamed Adrian for that happening, but I was returned home safely. There has to be more to it than that.”

Brett’s jaw clenched. “Now that the secret’s out about Adrian being your father, she’ll have to explain.”

“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe she’s being irrational. She never has been the most mentally stable person. Which isn’t her fault, but it’s still frustrating.”

They ate in silence for a few seconds, and Courtney contemplated what she would say to her mom when she was released from inpatient treatment next month. They’d never been close—she’d always felt like her mom loved her least out of her sisters. It would be a difficult conversation, and she couldn’t imagine how it would go. Her throat tightened just from trying.

“When did you say Habitat met again?” Brett asked, zapping her out of her thoughts.