Page 19 of Spiteful Lies

Charlotte stretches her arms over her head. “It’s okay. I’d rather have your problems right now than mine.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Have you heard the rumors that a student is involved in the Leister scandal?”

Charlotte’s body stiffens beside mine. “Oh God, Astrid, is that you?”

“Only the boys know, and if Leister is taken to court, I suppose their families will know it was me too. I went to the Pit to fight, and instead, he almost raped me.”

Her hand finds mine under the covers and holds it tight. “I’ve been so selfish,” she says. Our lives have done this weird topsy-turvy. You know, like a Freaky Friday. We’ve switched places. You have my luxe life, and now, I have yours.” The words are hard to hear and were probably equally hard to say.

“I wouldn’t know what to do with an easy life,” I reply, “I wasn’t born to have one. But you shouldn’t have to go through shit, Charlotte. Ever.”

“I don’t think a person gets a choice.” She yawns. “I need a nap before I get up. Thanks for opening the door. I knew you would.”

Chapter 16

Astrid

Charlotte and I head over toward the dining hall, our coats over our pajamas. The campus is half empty of students. Anyone who celebrates is gone, but not everyone has family nearby to celebrate with. Well, that’s the polite reason and a cue that the person doesn’t want to discuss it. Charlotte plays a game as we walk along, telling me the reasons why individual kids haven’t gone home.

“His family lives in London,” she says, “so of course, he doesn’t celebrate. Her father can’t stand her mother’s family, so she’d rather stay here and has done so for the last four years. And he’s like me—disowned.”

I cringe when she says that word. Maybe I should say something to Howland. I stuck up for my mother and got her out of that place, but I’m not sure if Mom is happy about cleaning up after herself. Her voice sounded stressed the last time we spoke. Doesn’t matter. Mom can’t spend the rest of her life high. I didn’t want to go to Stonehaven, but Mom told me to. She wants to take pills, and I make sure she stays clean. We all have to do what we don’t want to do sometimes.

I debate knocking on the kitchen door, but Charlotte heads around to the front. She leaves her dark glasses on as she pushes open the door, and I follow behind her. Instinctively, I head for my table, but she pulls me away toward hers.

“You don’t have to hide in the back today,” she says.

“I don’t hide.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes at my lie. I always feel safer by the door and farther away from the boys. At first, I hated them, but now, I can’t decide. My gaze goes to their table, and Justin sits there checking his phone. He looks up but doesn’t smile. I smile weakly at him, and he lifts his hand in an absentminded wave before going back to his phone. I wonder what Charlotte would say about Justin if he was a stranger.

He’s here because his dad’s in jail, or should be.

“Do you want to sit with him?” she asks, hovering by her chair.

I glance over, and Justin is watching us, then looks back at his phone. With my hand on a chair, I want to hide. But he’s at his lowest point as the other kids avoid his table. I have to strengthen my determination, or I never will.

I push the chair back in. “Let’s go sit with Justin.”

Charlotte’s on board as she leads the way as if it’s all her idea. She flounces down on his left, and I sit on his right. Justin looks up and smiles shyly.

“Nice to see you both,” he says politely, “Did you read your email? Rawlins is throwing a last-minute event for the parents.”

Charlotte pulls out her phone, looking over her dark glasses like an incognito star. I reach past Justin and pull them off her face.

“You only stick out more with them on,” I tell her.

“No Thanksgiving at home for you?” Justin asks Charlotte.

“Long story,” she says.

“Same here,” he replies. Justin turns his attention toward me. “None of my family is coming up. Of course, I was expected to go home, but what’s the point? I never spent it with Dad before, and I don’t care much for mom’s stepchildren. My stepsister hits on me, which is gross. She must think I’m like my father.” Justin sighs. “I’m glad to see you, Astrid.”

“Oh, so Rawlins is hosting a Harvest Day open house for the parents.” Charlotte reads further. “A day of hosted dinners, lectures with well-known speakers, campus tours, and opportunities to meet with teachers.” Charlotte scowls. “This is going to cost a fortune if she pulls it off right.”

“Damage control is always expensive,” Justin replies, “I wonder how many kids will return after Thanksgiving break.”

I swallow hard as our breakfast trays are placed down on the table—bagels and coffee. Stonehaven won’t ride out the scandal unscathed, and neither will I. I wonder how sincere Rawlins is. She has to know it’s me. There’s no other girl on campus that would go to that place. Well, maybe a few.

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