Crossroads (Crossroads Academy #1) by J.J. Bonds

Crossroads, but speculation about
the privileged student body abounds. I politely humor him and
excuse myself thinking it might be best to head back to campus.
    On my way to the car I make one last stop.
Again, unplanned. This time less pleasant. But I can’t help myself.
The angel draws me in. Wings spread, palms exposed, eyes cast
skyward. The pillar at the base of the statue explains its purpose.
The Angel of Hope. It’s a memorial for parents who’ve lost a
child.
    The monument hits me like a fist in the
chest. I lower myself onto one of the stone benches and try to hold
myself together mentally. The feeling of loss, of grief, of pain is
nearly overwhelming. It descends upon me without warning, bringing
with it unwanted ghosts of the past. I’m reminded yet again how
cruel and unfair the world really is.
    I wrench myself from the bench. I must get
back to the Audi. I walk down Main Street putting one foot in front
of the other, not really seeing anything but that angel.
    **********
    The jarring ring of the phone disturbs my
sleep. I want nothing more at this moment than to be left alone.
I’m wallowing. It’s not an indulgence I often allow myself.
Self-pity is a waste of time, but at the moment I don’t care. I
have an abundance of time, might as well waste a little. The phone
rings again, demanding my attention. I briefly contemplate
burrowing deeper into the covers, when I realize there aren’t many
people who have my number. It must be Aldo. Who else would be
calling me?
    I roll over and grab the phone, answering in
one swift motion. “Aldo?”
    “Katia! How we miss you at the manor!” he
bellows. “How are you enjoying Crossroads?”
    “It’s... school,” I reply. I can’t lie to
Aldo. He knows me too well. Why bother trying?
    “Oh, dear child. What is wrong?” It’s not a
question. Not really. It’s a command. Typical Aldo. He’ll want to
make it right; to protect me. But I am no innocent lamb. I’m every
bit the wolf, and we both know it.
    “I have everything a girl could possibly
want, but not the one thing that I need,” I tell him morosely.
    “We talked about this, Katia,” Aldo reminds
me gently. He never loses faith in me. It’s the thing I love most
about him.
    “I know. I’m trying. I really am.” I don’t
know if that’s true or not. If I’m honest with myself I can’t be
sure I’m giving it my best effort. I’m reminded of my last real
conversation with Aldo before I left Romania. I quickly replay the
conversation in my head looking for reassurance.
    “ The past does not give us definition, My
Dear, only character. It is your future, and what you do in the
days to come will define your existence.”
    I stare at him incredulously. “Surely you
can’t be serious? After all that I’ve done? My past-”
    “ Is like smoke.” He cuts me off and pauses
for emphasis. I can tell he wants to make sure he’s got my
undivided attention. “Grey, elusive-”
    “ Suffocating?” I offer, refusing to be
silenced so easily by his obtuse metaphors and old world manner of
speaking.
    “ I’m quite serious, you know,” he replies
reproachfully, his gaze softening even as the words pass his
lips.
    I feel a slight twinge of guilt at my
insolence, and, as I meet his eyes, I can see them pleading with me
for understanding. I owe him so much, and yet I can’t bring myself
to terms with this latest request. He’s never asked much of me and
has given far more than I could ever hope to repay, even if I lived
five lifetimes. Unsure of what to say next, I sit quietly waiting
for him to continue.
    “ You must let go of the past now. It is
your future—who you are today, tomorrow, and the choices that you
make going forward— that will define you.”
    “ If only it were that simple,” I trail off
wistfully, my mind wandering to other times, other places I dare
not think of often. Deep down I know that I will obey his wishes
out of respect, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it or