Lies Twist The Way We Think

Chapter 15 - Ah yes school, how dearly I was missing it

"You're going to be late," Grayson informs me as I haste towards the door. He's leaning against the wall, watching me gather my stuff with an amused smile as I am, once again, horrifically late to school.

He's been around the whole morning, leaning against the door or drinking his coffee. Jameson is already at school, together with Xander, but Grayson graduated last year, so he isn't bound to our schedule.

This morning has been a mess. Alisa left us our school uniforms, not bothering to inform us how long the ride would take.

"How very kind of you to tell me that," I answer, not bothering to look over as I bang on Avery's door. "Ave, are you ready? Oren's waiting!"

"You have," he looks at his watch, "three minutes if you don't want to be late."

I groan. "Oh, please. Don't you have anything better to do?" I haven't even had coffee yet. That's the worst. Of course I'm late on my first day. Every cliché ever. I'm just playing into it.

"Certainly. But why would I possibly give up the joy of seeing you go crazy?"

"Whatever, Grayson." He tenses only slightly when I say his name. I file that under Think about this later.

"I'm here, I'm here." Avery leaves her room with her back half open, but she looks great. "Let's go." When she sees Grayson, she nods at him. "Grayson."

"Miss Grambs." He acknowledges her. "Your sister is very impatient."

"You haven't met me then. Let's go, Milly."

As Avery walks away, he raises his eyebrows at me and mouthes, Milly?

Fuck off, I answer silently and roll my eyes at him as I walk after her.

After I get into the SUV, I throw one last glance at the doors of Hawthorne House, and I see him stand there, his face an unwavering mask.

C. R. D. - M. L. T.

The high school, as Alisa generously called it, looks like a college, or a museum. It reminds me of those perfect catalogs, with all students dressed the same and smiling.

The uniform Alisa forced upon us earlier feels better now. Like I can blend into the crowd again. Before I get out, I send Aisha a text.

This is Camille. New number. Call me when you can.

"Camille," Avery says. "We should get out."

Glancing at the front seat again, I force my hand to the door. "Do we meet you back here at the end of the day?" I ask Oren.

"I'll be here," he says.

I wait for a beat, then I open the door. "Thanks for the ride."

"You should keep to Jameson," I say to Avery as we walk past other students. We're not exactly watched— but I have this feeling that they all stare at us anyway.

She laughs. "That's funny, he told me to the exact opposite."

Just as we reach the archways, a girl with long black hair bucks the trend of ignoring us the other students keep up. She watches us intently, and one by one, the girls around her do the same. When we reach the door, the black-haired girl steps away from the group, right toward us.

"I'm Thea," she said, smiling. "You must be the new students." Her voice is perfectly pleasant—borderline musical, like a siren who knew with the least bit of effort she could sing sailors into the sea. Why don't I show you to the office?"

"How lovely of you," I say matter-of-factly, and we follow her into the building, away from the outside world and into a new one, full of whispers and gossip and money.

"I've slotted you into Classics and Philosophy of Mindfulness. In science and math, you should be able to continue on with your current course of study, assuming our course load doesn't prove to be too much." Dr. McGowan takes a sip of her coffee. I do the same.

"I'm supposed to be taking my finals soon."

"We are aware of the situation you are in and would provide you with the education Country Day has to offer."

"Thank you," I say with honesty. "Will I be able to continue to take History as my honors class?"

"We can arrange that. Now," Dr. Mac—as she insists on being called—continues, "in terms of electives, I would suggest Making Meaning, which focuses on the study of how meaning is conveyed through the arts and includes a strong component of civic engagement with local museums, artists, theater productions, the ballet company, the opera, and so on. Given the support the Hawthorne Foundation has traditionally provided to these endeavors, I believe you will find the course... useful."

The Hawthorne Foundation? I fail to understand half of what she's saying, but that sticks with me.

„Now, for the rest of your schedule, I will need you to tell me a bit about your plans for the future. What are you passionate about, Camille?"

I'm about to tell her what I tell everyone: Architecture. It's a good job field, and I like to sketch things, but that desire is mostly driven by practicalities. I've picked a college major that will get me a solid job. The practical thing to do now is stay the course. This school has to have more resources than my old one.

But Dr. Mac didn't just ask about my plans. She asked what I'm passionate about, and even if the Hawthorne family does manage to successfully challenge the will, I'll probably still get a payout. How many millions of dollars will they be willing to pay me just to go away? Worse comes to worst, I could probably sell my story for more than enough to pay for my and Avery's college.

"Astrophysics," I say.

"Why?" Dr. Mac peers at me. "What is it that attracts you to the stars? Is it that you want to discover? Do you want to leave this place? Unravel their secrets?"

"Yes," I say fiercely, my tone nearly desperate as she grabs my words and pulls half of my desires out between us. "All of that, and more."

Dr. Mac reaches out and takes my hand. It takes everything in me not to pull it back, not to listen to my safety instincts that tell me not to trust a person of authority. "I'll get you a list of electives to look at," she says softly. "I hope you understand that it's a field we don't have many students applying to, but we have some marvelous programs you might consider thereafter. You might even entertain the idea of delaying graduation a bit."

If someone told me a week earlier that there is anything that will tempt me to stay in high school even a minute longer than necessary, I'd tell them they were delusional. But this isn't a normal school. Nothing about my life is normal anymore.

A future, I think. A future for me and Avery.