A Game of Hearts and Heists - YA

One 

Sapphire,

If you're reading this, I’m no longer with you. Life is a precious and fleeting thing, like a game with a limited number of turns. But even though my time to play has ended, yours is just beginning. There’s a world out there that I didn’t get a chance to show you, but I know you’ll pick up right where I left off. 

Keep playing for life is like a Game of Hearts and Heists. It leaves its mark on the heart and triumphs in the score. You’re capable of so much. You’ll find the strength to carry on. You’ll win at every turn.

I love you, Jewel, and I always will.

Mum xo

I stare hard at the letter, absorbing each word repeatedly. Five minutes have already slipped away since I trudged into the lecture hall, my trainers squelching with each step, courtesy of the inconsiderate jerk in the car park. Focused, I sit in the front row, tuning out murmurs and shuffling coming from behind me. This room houses some of the smartest and most dangerous minds, best I leave them to it. 

It’s taken me three days to muster the courage to open the letter. My mum is long gone, yet last week someone thought it was a really good idea to post this letter through my door and vanish. For years I’ve mapped out my future, and chasing a ghost isn’t part of it. 

The Edwardian door swings open, sweeping in a cool autumn breeze. 

The Professor . . .

My pulse races, and I quickly tuck the letter inside my textbook. 

“DIESEL!” someone shouts, voice amplified by the acoustics. 

“Dee, Dee, Dee.” A group of guys pound the desks, hollering. 

I lift my gaze, braids swinging just as a ball whooshes and spins towards me. 

What the hell? I duck. 

The ball whizzes over me, missing me by inches. Annoyance trundles down my spine, and I bite my lip, searching for calm. Today is already marred by an unfortunate incident in the car park, but I’m determined that it’s the last. 

I’m finally here at the highly acclaimed Criminology Prep School in London: the only college that offers a one-year prep program for students in the transitional phase between A-levels and university, with a mega focus on Justice and Criminology. A second-generation immigrant, on a scholarship, with A+ grades and a thousand hours of crime show binging under my belt, I belong here.

“Diesel, I saved you a seat.” A girl with bright red lipstick and matching nails plays with a lock of her hair. 

“Oh, Brooke, you didn’t have to, darling,” a voice, familiar, loud, and pompous, slices through the air, piercing my skull. 

I whip my head round and frost coils down my spine. 

You got to be kidding me. 

The guy who almost ran me over and splashed me earlier in the car park marches past me, his lemongrass and cocoa aftershave perfuming the air and sits two rows behind. His friends holler at him like he’s some class rockstar. How the hell did he make friends so fast? We are all new unless they attended the same high school. Of course, I missed the settling-in day, but it was only one day. 

I place my hand on my forehead, just as the door bangs shut. 

“If you’re in my class, you’re either in favour of justice or vengeance or both.” The professor, tall, with brown skin and a briefcase in hand, enters the room with a dynamic stride, instantly filling the amphitheatre with new energy. 

My lips part, my eyes are so wide, anytime they’ll pop. 

Murmurs come to a hush, and all heads turn to him. 

“There are three types of students among you.” His powerful voice commands attention. “First, those who strive to uphold the law. Second, those who seek to break the law and get away with it. Finally, those who lack the understanding of the distinction between right and wrong. The question is, which one are you?” 

I lean forward, a smile parting my lips. He isn’t just any professor. He is the professor. Not only is he a nationally recognised expert in Criminology and a consultant for the UK National Crime Agency (NCA), and the Ministry of Defence (MID), but he also holds a CBE for his dedication and contribution to justice. 

On the cool scale, he tops it. 

“Welcome to the most fascinating class at Hilltop Prep.” He sets his briefcase down by the lectern and slides out of his suit jacket. “My name is Sir Anton Clemonte, and my job is to take you inside the mind of a criminal and ensure you come out the other side, clean. Who wants to start us off with a definition of Criminal Psychology?”