The Academy

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"So, obviously Rosterford still has the pages." Carlisle crossed her arms and tried to keep herself steady as she stood up, the canoe swaying under her. "We need to get them back. Any suggestions on how to do so?"
Carlisle had called an emergency meeting to our canoe at eight in the morning. We didn't have classes today, so we were all pretty peeved that we had to get up early.

"We steal them?" Aspen offered, her suggestion sounding more like a question than a statement.

"Elaborate."

"There's a Beaumont basketball game tonight. Rosterford goes to every game, so we could sneak in his room and steal them then."

"Marisol and I have a study session with Mrs. Peterson for a literary English test tomorrow," I said, pointing to Marisol. She nodded in agreement.

"No problem," Aspen said. "Lindsay, Carlisle, and I can do it."

"Do you have the key to his room?" I asked.

Aspen's face fell and she shook her head. "That would be helpful."

"I know how to pick locks," Lindsay piped up. When we all shot her a confused glance, she said, "Do you remember when I dated that super sketchy guy a few years ago? Brandon? Well, he taught me a thing or two."

"Do you still remember how to if it's been years?" Carlisle asked her.

"It should be like riding a bike."

"We'll go in at eight-thirty. He should be out by then," Aspen said. "Group text message. We'll let you know when we get in."

"Sounds good," Marisol replied. "Now that that's settled, let's go back to the dorms. I'm hungry and I heard they're serving french toast sticks for breakfast."

~~~

Three months.

Three months until I'd be completely done with school, only to go to another school that I'd have to pay an insane amount of money to attend. Three months until I'd be able to actually feel like an adult. Three months until Tatum and I would have to decide whether we should break up or not when we go separate paths for college. Three months until I would have to tell all my friends in Boston goodbye and probably never see them again. Poor Ivy. She'd never get to graduate or go to college.

"Are you even listening?" Tatum asked, tilting his head to the side. He twirled a coffee stirrer with the word "Serenity" printed on it around the fingers on his right hand as he waited for me to reply.

"Uh," I ran a hand through my hair and tried to pay attention, "yeah."

"What was I talking about?"

Honestly, I had no idea. Lately, it was hard for me to focus on anything. Maybe it was end-of-the-school-year jitters or just plain nervousness ever since Ivy's death and my knowledge about Headmaster Rosterford, but I'd find myself trailing off more and more and getting distracted easily. As a result, Tatum and I hadn't had an actual conversation in a while, and my grade in English was suffering quite a bit. I had my study session with Marisol and Mrs. Peterson in less than half an hour.

When I shrugged, Tatum sighed and leaned back in his chair. "What is with you, Kayleigh?"

Although I knew precisely what he was talking about, I said, "What do you mean?"

"You've been acting so distant lately. I feel like you're pushing me away. Even though I don't know what it's about—"

"My friend died, Tatum."