By Sunday morning, my mom was rested and ready to focus on a new project: me. It was obvious the moment I came down to breakfast and found her at the table with a shiny new folder, a stack of papers, and her coffee.
“So I’ve been in touch with Headmaster Florence,” she said, skipping a salutation, “and she’s of the mind that a midsemester switch is not in your best interest.”
I paused, right where I was, to give Mrs. Florence—a tall woman with birdlike features who had never been particularly fond of me—my eternal gratitude. “So I get to stay at Jackson?”
My mom picked up her coffee cup, taking a sip. “Until the end of the marking period, yes. After that, we’ll revisit the issue. In the meantime, there will be some modifications.”
That didn’t sound promising. I went over to the fridge, taking out the milk, then gathered my cereal and a bowl. She was waiting for me to ask her what was in store, I knew, and the only power I had was not doing so. So I didn’t.
“Starting tomorrow,” she said, “I’ve signed you up for tutoring and SAT prep at the Kiger Center. Monday through Friday, three thirty to five.”
The Kiger Center was where Jenn worked, in the strip mall just across the street from the Arbors guardhouse. “My grades are good, though. So are my prep test scores.”
“There’s always room for improvement,” she replied. “Additionally, there’s a Kiger study group that meets at Jackson each day at lunchtime. I’ve signed you up for that, as well.”
“I have to study at lunch?”
She leveled her gaze at me. “You’re a junior now. SAT prep is crucial. You need all the practice you can get.”
“But,” I said, realizing even as I spoke that arguing was probably futile, “all I’ll be doing is studying.”
She opened the folder, jotting something down on a sheet of paper inside. “Well, then you’ll be more than prepared to transfer back to Perkins, or to one of the other schools I’m considering, after the break.”
“Other schools?” This just kept getting worse.
“There are actually quite a few options since I last did this kind of research,” she said. She took out a sheet of paper, putting it in front of me. “Kiffney-Brown is my first choice, but you’ll need to really work to pass their entrance exam. There’s also a charter school that just opened with a focus on math and science that’s intriguing. But I’m just beginning to read up on it.”
I’d thought the dread I’d been feeling since Thursday night had already hit its maximum. Seeing the printed spreadsheet of schools—each listed with its average SAT score, tuition (if applicable), and requirements for enrollment—proved me wrong. I knew my mother in this mode. Peyton had finally succeeded in stopping her from organizing his life. Now she had her full arsenal of resources, not to mention all the time in the world, to focus on mine.
“She’s just reacting still,” Mac told me when I reported all this. My parents hadn’t taken my phone as part of my punishment—yet—so I was calling and texting him as much as I could while I still had the chance. “It freaked her out, seeing you with the bottle and all of us there. Too much like your brother.”
“She wants to send me to Kiffney-Brown,” I said. “That’s, like, the genius school. She’s delusional. Even with all this studying she’s signed me up for, I’d never have a chance.”
“It would probably still be better than that charter, though,” he replied. “Irv has a bunch of friends there. Says it’s like college.”
There was that dread again. Not about the academics, although that wasn’t exactly calming. Worse, though, was the thought of being away from him, from Layla, from this world in which I’d somehow managed to find a place. That was assuming, however, they still wanted me.
“Has she said anything?” I asked him again. I’d texted Layla multiple times, even gone so far as to leave a voice mail, but had heard nothing in return. To be fair, she’d been clear about her rule concerning dating Mac. But I was hoping for forgiveness, and if not that, a chance to explain.
“She’s been caught up with Spence,” he replied. “Total drama. You know how they are.”
It was kind of him to sidestep the question, but it just made me feel worse. To me, the Chathams were like that merry-go-round out in the middle of nowhere in the woods. I hadn’t been aware they’d existed; it was pure luck to have stumbled upon them. Now that I had, I couldn’t forget and go back to the way I’d been before. Just knowing they were out there changed everything. Especially me.
Monday morning, my mom sent me off to school with my own folder, containing the information about the Kiger lunchtime study group (Attendance taken daily, she’d highlighted in bright yellow), as well as a packet with the details of the after-school program. When I got to my locker before the first bell, Mac was waiting for me. The only upside of all this—and it was a big one—was that we had no reason to hide anymore.