Page 3 of Twisted Lies

“They lied?” I stare at Dr. Rawlins, and her expression displays a mix of emotions. Her frown softens as she sighs at my gullibility.

“Each time I speak to you, I realize how much I misjudged you.” Dr. Rawlins stands from her desk and faces the window behind it as if she can’t bear to look at me anymore.

I grab the notes off her desk and shove them back into my purse. Quickly, I gather my backpack and shift forward in my seat, ready to bolt. And then what? What am I going to do? Confront those assholes for using me, so they can laugh and smirk in my face again? My fury makes my tears evaporate before they can appear. I’ll get them—each one of them.

Rawlins’ voice is calm and soothing. “Astrid, come stand by me.”

She stands at the window in her designer suit with an even hem. Her hair always remains in place; she’d never pull her hand through it no matter how large her frustrations.

I drop my stuff down on the chair and approach the window, taking my place beside Dr. Rawlins. In silence, we look out at the view of the campus. To me, the grounds resemble a cemetery in a good neighborhood but without the headstones. The manicured lawn is weed-free, and the oak trees are losing their leaves on the fading grass. Dr. Rawlins doesn’t look at me though I glance at her profile without moving my head.

“I was a student at Stonehaven,” she says, “And I wanted to fit in, so I did everything I could to belong. And in the end, I came back to my first success. You’ll never fit in here, nor should you. You’re not a sheep, Astrid, so why do you act like one?”

When Rawlins pauses, I realize she’s waiting for an answer.

“At my old school, people covered your ass,” I reply thoughtfully. “You didn’t necessarily have to be friends, but you had mutual respect. I’m not finding respect here, even among so-called friends, and I’m being messed with. People at my old school were up-front, not this petty power bullshit.”

Dr. Rawlins raises a plucked eyebrow at my last word. But she doesn’t reprimand me for speaking so bluntly.

“I have suggested that you put some distance between yourself and the boys here,” she replies.

“And I have tried, but they keep coming after me.” My voice toughens harder than I want it to. “I’m not the slut you think I am. Sure, I’ve done stuff, but I’m not jumping on every guy who stares at me a little too long.”

Rawlins finally turns to look at me. “You’re in a position to receive the most blame. No pun intended.” She glances away again. “There are other aspects of your reputation that you can focus on. Your father is impressed with the positive publicity you’ve received since joining the track team. It was smart of you to join.”

“I’m hoping for a scholarship.” I mumble, “My mom wants me to go to college. Maybe a local one.”

“Like I said, it was a smart move in many ways. And you have no troubles with your teammates?”

“No, the boys don’t hit on me,” I reply, “Or the girls. We’re focused on competing.”

“Good.” Rawlins steps toward her desk, taps the keyboard, and my picture from the local town paper flashes on the screen. “We plan to use this photo in next year’s catalog,” she says, “I keep your father up to date on your progress, and he wants to meet with you again.”

I sigh, and Dr. Rawlins flattens her lips into a scowl.

I reply to her thought. “He’s not a nice man, Dr. Rawlins.”

“Therefore, you need to be kind to your sister,” she answers. “Your family circumstances are unfortunate, but hers are declining now that her mother has passed away. Your father wants you to legally take his last name. He wants you to become a Howland.”

My knees buckle from the shock as my hand reaches for the windowsill. Dr. Rawlins rolls her desk chair toward me before I fall. I wasn’t expecting to hear that, and it winded me like a blow to the gut. I stare at her as if she’s told me the worst possible news, and I’ve heard a lot of bad shit in my life.

“Why? He barely knows me and definitely doesn’t like me.”

Dr. Rawlins leans against the desk and folds her arms. Is this conversation taking as much out of her as it’s taking out of me?

“Astrid, the Howlands have been in Rockingham since before it was Rockingham. Your father might not have a name as widely known as other families, but in New England, the Howlands have been respected for generations. Unfortunately, your father didn’t have a son to carry on the family name. He’s hoping between you…and maybe your sister, there will always be a Howland in Rockingham.”

I don’t say anything when I notice the way she pauses when she mentions Charlotte. “Do you always get involved in family business?”

Her gaze turns to blades of ice. “Not always,” she replies sternly. “But your father has been an active participant and a generous donor since he was a student at Stonehaven.”

What does she assume I meant? Charlotte told me the rumors about Dr. Rawlins and the fathers at the school. Unintentionally, my gaze lowers to her legs, and I wonder how many reps she has to do to keep those killer calves. I lift my eyes, and she’s watching me, probably guessing what I’m thinking. I’m not crazy enough to even speak it and my mouth stays firmly shut.

“I have to think about it,” I reply softly, “And I have to talk to my mom. She raised me, and I owe her my loyalty.”

Dr. Rawlins nods as if she understands that loyalty can outplay a promised fortune. She pats my shoulder, and I realize she wants me out of her chair. I get up and pick my stuff up, slinging my purse over my shoulder as she sits back down.

“Astrid,” she says, “Think about what we’ve said, but most of all, be kind to your sister. She needs a true friend.”

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