Their Little Princess

Chapter Twenty-Five

The next week or so passes uneventfully.

Emma is more pissed with me than ever and I realize it's because Alessandro apparently told all my brothers they couldn't have guests over until further notice once I moved in to give me a chance to get acclimated.

I feel a little guilty for it, knowing not only can they not have people over because of me, but they don't even spend most of their time out of the house. And I know they have friends, because even though they keep a sharp eye on me, I'm back to sitting alone and they sit at the table with the biggest crowd of people, they seem to always be the center of attention.

I decide I'm gonna talk to Sandro about it after school. I may not like Emma but she's Xander's girlfriend and I know he really likes her. I heard him (basically) saying it to Carlo, and I don't want to be the reason she can't come over.

Plus all my brothers seem to approve of her as well, so maybe she's genuinely a nice person. She's not the first person to not want me around. My father was a good person from everything I've heard, and him not wanting me around didn't make a terrible person. Everybody has their reasoning.

So yes. I'm gonna talk to Sandro about changing that rule.

Things start off on a bad note when my math test comes back with an 'F'. When I first started attending, Sandro told me the standard was an 'A' and now that I'm attending this school, I'm expected to maintain that.

"Is there any way I could retake the test?" I ask after class.

Mrs. Rolphe shakes her head, "No, Miss Rossi. Class policy is no retakes, no rescores, and no extra credit. This kind of thing wouldn't slide in college, better to prepare for the real world now. I'm sorry, but that's final. Better luck next time."

I leave the room, taking a deep breath to recompose myself and walking down the hall.

"She's a piece of work."

I look over, and see the boy from the other day, sporting the school blazer rather than the letterman jacket. He looks handsome in it.

"Yeah," I mumble, frowning, "My brothers want me to only get A's. They're not gonna like this."

"Oh, come on. You're a genius, I'm pretty sure they won't disown you for getting one 'F'."

"Yeah, maybe. But I'm already failing algebra. Alessandro's gonna see." 

I'm scared of disappointing any of them, but mostly Alessandro because I want so badly for him to think I'm good for anything. He thinks so highly of me, he thinks I'm strong, and brave, and courageous, when I'm none of those things.

But I want to be, and I want him to be proud of me. I don't want him to just say that I'm strong and brave, or have to reassure me all the time saying the basic things everyone tells a victim of abuse. I want him to tell me he's proud of me. But I keep fucking things up.

"Well, there's still a lot of months left in school. And hey! I'm not doing so good in school either," He says with a proud grin that coaxes a small smile out of me. He's not the most intelligent person I've ever met, like don't get me wrong, he's...Kind of adorable. But I wouldn't take academic advice from him.

"I lost all my notes from science and I just took them earlier," he adds, "So you're already doing better than me. I don't even know what we're talking about in science."

"Astronomy and it's effect on neurology," I say.

He's quiet for a moment, "So like...Astrology basically?"

I open my mouth to object but have no rebuttal, because yeah now that I think about it.

"Hm. Well this is my class, see you around, Maddie," He says, walking into the classroom.

At lunch, I sit at my usual empty table, and prop my cheek on my hand, just watching Xander and Emma, despite all the chatter and commotion, his arm is still tightly around her waist and her free hand is resting on his. They look perfect for each other.

After lunch, I begin walking to my next class until I see a familiar blonde sporting a dark red cheer bow and cheer uniform, about 5'7. 

It's Emma.

She's wrapped up in a boy, her arms tightly around his neck, pulling him close with his hands desperately moving around her waist. At first, I think she's kissing Xander until I see the brown hair.

That's not Xander.

It suddenly makes sense why she's tucked away by the janitor's closet with him. Neither of them even notice me until the boy sees me watching them shell shocked and moves back quickly. I see his face now. Gregory Milson. He's on the basketball team.

"Yo, isn't that Rossi's kid sister?!" He says panickedly, "I'm not tryna get into it with your boyfriend, sorry," He steps back a few steps before turning and hurrying away.

"You don't have anything better to do than stalk me?" She says, using her finger to neaten the red gloss from around her lips.

I'm angry. How could I have even started to consider vouching on her behalf? I knew she was a snake from the moment I met her! And Xander...She cheated on Xander. My brother.

"You cheated on Xander," Is all I can manage. I sound pitiful. After all the times he's defended me, this is all I can do in return?

She pokes her bottom lip out mockingly, crouching down slightly to look at me face to face, "Whatcha gonna do about it, slut?"

My hand reacts before my mind does, and hits her cheek with whatever strength I manage at the moment. It isn't much. She stands up straight and grabs my wrist almost sweetly, if not for the sheer grip and her nails digging into my wrist. I now that's gonna leave a mark. A small, mocking smirk appears as she gets inches away from my face,

"You slap like an anorexic."

I feel a familiar white hot fury. 

And then my fist is bruised and she's on the floor with a bloody nose.

And Xander shows up now of all times. "Madison, what the hell?!"

With a teacher of all people, "Miss Rossi!" She shouts furiously as Xander rushes over to kneel at Emma's side. She sobs on the floor, Xander says things to her. I don't hear, coming down from my anger.

"To the office. Now!" The teacher says to me.

"But, she—" I begin.

"Go to the office," Xander says furiously.

I exhale and walk down to the front office. I assume the woman called the principal on his walkie talkie, because he's already on the phone when I walk in.

"Your guardian is on his way."