Saint

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.”