The dreaded sense of getting caught overcame the feeling of guilt.
Alex stuck the book underneath her pillow as her sister Selene walked in the door. “Alex—” she groaned through her teeth. “Hello? I’m sick of waiting. If you’re not down there in two minutes, you’re riding the bus.” She walked over to Alex’s vanity and powdered her cheeks once more before zipping up her backpack. She shot Alex a look of extreme impatience through her reflection.
“Yeah, I’ll meet you downstairs. Two minutes, I promise.”
She scowled at Alex, tossing her newly blow dried hair over her shoulder before walking downstairs. Typical, Alex thought. She released her breath and took the book from her pillow. She hated to hide this secret but she also hated the thought of her newly furnished “Windemere sister” reputation go down the proverbial high school toilet. Selene had made it a point to save her from the bottom of the food chain and allow her to be her protege, but she never hesitated to push Alex aside if for one minute she made her look bad. Ah, the joys of loving sisterhood. Alex wanted to finish it right then and there and fought back and forth with the decision of whether she should bring it to school. Was it worth the risk if someone found out about it?
No, she wouldn’t let that happen.
She sighed, knowing how much it was worth. She stuck it in her bag and ran downstairs.
But as promised, she was one minute too late. She saw exhaust from Selene’s car as she cruised down the neighborhood street. “Thanks a lot, sis,” she grumbled. Now she had to bear the long trek to school on the bus and that meant more talk from the terror known as Brayden Wilkes. She cringed at the thought of him, and when she finally saw him sitting on the stone wall at the bus stop, she nearly regurgitated her breakfast.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Windemere. Nice of you to grace us with your presence, your Highness,” he teased. Alex turned her back to him and prayed he would just leave it at that. Fortunately for Alex, he was so focused on the conversation with his friend that he left her alone. She let everyone get on the bus before her and took a seat at the very front where no one else dared to sit. She pulled out the book with careful silence. Her fingertips traced the letters of the cover title:
The Baker Street Club
Writer: Mortimus Sinclair