Huxley's pov
When school ended had only one thought in my mind, to trash the letter my father had sent. You see the truth about being a prodigy isn't all that glamorous. There's a reason Weston is the way he is. His training is worse than ours. Which, if the world truly knew how our training was, they would pity the prince.
I roughed my hair with my fingers, and took each step two at a time. My brain was scrambling. I had a lot of after school work to do, so I wouldn't be heading home for at least another hour. I groaned, patrolling the top floor with my mind drifting back to the letter in my jacket. What could father possibly want! We were already scheduled to visit....
What if he wants us to visit him early?
I can't do that. He's a f*****g bastard. I'm too strung out on having my ma
