Page 86 of Twisted Lies

Chapter 41

Astrid

“Why did you open your mouth when I told you not to?” My voice carries a little too far. “Why did you say anything?”

Roni has avoided the dorm room all day, but I knew I would catch her in the dining hall with Terri. His pressed lips turn white, and the shaking fork in his hand indicates he’s trembling. I toss my backpack down on an empty chair and sit down across from them. They’re quite a pair—Roni looks like she wants to start a fight while Terri looks as if he’s going to faint. Roni has no one to hide behind, so she better deal with me. And I’m a fool if I think she won’t.

“I didn’t open my mouth,” she replies sharply. “No one knows your business.”

I force myself not to flinch, but it’s difficult not to react as the chatter swirls around our table. My father’s identity is known to everyone in the senior class. And the few people who don’t know are being told as kids file past our table, whispering and pointing.

A boy that never speaks to me stops and stares as if I’m a picture posted on his screen. I turn my head slowly and glare, but he responds with an indifferent smile as if he has a right to gawk. I turn back to Roni, and her hurt expression shocks me. Why is she upset?

“Like I said,” she repeats, “no one knows your business, Ms. Howland.”

We aren’t close, and this just proves it. I kept a huge secret from Roni when I lied about my dad the day we met. I lied by omission. We started out as two misfits, out of place in a fancy school, so we had to end up friends. But Roni could never be as close to me as Nova. Roni and I didn’t work at being friends, and if you gotta work on it too hard, are you really that close?

We stare at one another, and there’s a decision we’ve got to make here and now. Are we going to call out our phony relationship, or are we going to keep on pretending? I inhale deeply, knowing that our bond will never be more than it already is.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, looking away, “that your feelings were hurt.” Gradually, I’m learning not to own up to fucking up. Astrid Howland will never say sorry and mean it. I may not be ready for the privileged life, but I better keep practicing.

Roni presses her lips tightly together, understanding fully what I just did. “Don’t fret it,” she says, “But I didn’t open my mouth.”

Roni thinks I’m talking about the cash, not the break-in, but I don’t bother correcting her. The scrutiny is stretching my nerves as more people pass by our table and openly stare. Nudging against it, they squeeze by the other gawkers, followed by laughter as they hurry off to their tables. I motion to place my order for dinner and notice Gary peeking out of the kitchen door, his gaze stuck on me. No doubt sharing with the kitchen staff that Astrid Howland used to bus trays and sucked at it.

I’m giving up on this bullshit and taking off. Now I can afford to eat in Rockingham, and I can hook up with the track team, who only care if I win the race. Grabbing my backpack, I’m almost gone when Charlotte sits down beside me.

“Astrid, have you introduced me to your friends?” she asks.

That’s odd. I sit back down. “Roni is my roommate, and we hang with Terri.”

Charlotte smiles, tossing her hair. “I’m Charlotte Howland, Astrid’s sister. I’m from Rockingham and am attending Smith in the fall. And you are?”

Roni stares dumbly at Charlotte, who shines like a beacon on every social occasion. Charlotte’s beauty and confidence suck the cool out of all who face her. Under the table, I gently kick Roni’s foot to get her talking again.

“I’m Veronica Star Griffin, formerly of New Jersey. But call me Roni. My dad’s in plastics.”

Charlotte wrinkles her nose as if that’s an amusing anecdote. “How sweet. Plastics are all around us.” Her blue eyes flash on Terri, and she lowers her lashes a few times. “And your name is?”

Terri drops his fork on his plate, making a racket as metal bounces off ceramic and strikes the floor. His entire face blazes red like he has measles. Terri opens his mouth but can’t utter a sound, especially while we’re all staring at him. He takes in a large gulp of air like a fish desperate for water, and we wait patiently for him to say his name.

Roni rolls her eyes. “His name is Terri.”

“Terrence Hamilton of Connecticut.” He sputters like an outboard motor on a rowboat. “My family are descendants of the Hamiltons. I don’t have to work for a living.” Somehow he manages to spew that all out on one breath.

Roni and I share a confused look while Terri gawks at pretty Charlotte, who smiles and swirls a lock of pale blonde hair around her finger. Roni punches Terri’s shoulder, and he snaps out of it, clutching his shoulder and lowering his forehead onto the table. His loud breathing barely contributes to the conversation as he recuperates from this social interaction.

“I need to leave here,” I speak only to Charlotte. “Let’s go somewhere else to eat. Please.” Maybe I shouldn’t give Roni and Terri a dirty look when I stand up to leave. But I’m not feeling warmhearted after that wimp-ass display in front of Charlotte. I grab my backpack, not waiting for Charlotte to respond, and head for the large oak door.

Charlotte waves goodbye to Roni while her gaze lingers on Terri. She hurries out the oak door, which I hold open for her with my foot.

“Where do you want to go?” she asks as we walk toward the stone gate.

“Let’s catch an Uber and get away from here.” We wait for fifteen minutes by the gate after Charlotte tells me that she also doesn’t have a car. Not anymore.

“When I learn to drive, Daddy will buy me a new one,” she says.

“You don’t have your license?” I ask, scowling.

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