Page 39 of Reign

Lynda’s brows disappear into her blonde highlights. “Goodness, you don’t mince words, now do you?”

“That’s what they did.” I flip the phone so she can see the screen. “There’s no way I managed a 4.0 GPA. I daydreamed through half my exams and scribbled nonsense on the rest.”

“Honey.” Lynda’s soft voice floats closer. “I’m sure that’s not what happened. You’re an intelligent girl who’s finally been given a chance at a top tier school, and you’ve excelled.”

“I don’t deserve these grades, because they’re not mine.”

“But they are.” Lynda points to the top of the screen. “Isn’t that your student number?”

“It is, but I ran into my friend Sylvie today. Remember what I said at dinner? She looked amazing. Happy and healthy. And it got me thinking, why can’t I turn over a new leaf? She’s forgiven herself and I want to try to do the same. I want to forgive myself for what happened with she and I, and what I did to Dad. I really think going back to school here in the city would—”

“Then those are your grades.” Lynda spins back to the stove as if I just answered her question and hadn’t poured my insecurities out. “Don’t question their origins past tonight.”

“But—I’m really happy with you, and Dad, and Blair.”

“Callie.” Lynda lifts a wooden spoon, keeping her back to me. “Do what they want. Accept the perks and keep attending Briarcliff.”

Lynda’s shoulder blades spear out of her back as she deliberately sets out to stir the milk and chocolate with awful, jerky movements.

“Lynda,” I whisper, “The Virtues’ perks come with awful consequences. I don’t want to be a part of it anymore.”

It’s the closest I’ve come to confessing about Ivy, and my throat swells with the effort.

“Refusing them comes at an even greater cost,” Lynda replies, her voice invoking an eerie calm.

My hackles rise. “I’m beginning to think they just do whatever the fuck they want, regardless of whether you bend to their will or not.”

“I know you’re confused.” Stir, stir, stir. “Angry, even. But coming at them the way you have isn’t going to work out the way you think it will.”

“Oh, really? Is someone I know going to get hurt? Newsflash, that’s already—”

The wooden spoon slams against the countertop. Hot milk splashes with Lynda’s arc, but she doesn’t react to the boiling liquid hitting her skin.

“Please.” Her voice breaks. Placing her palms on the edge of the counter, she sags forward over the stove, exhausted. “No more. Don’t put this family through more struggles.”

I slide off my stool, clutching my phone to my chest, and step up behind Lynda. Afraid to touch her. “I’m not trying to put you or Blair in more danger…”

“But you are.” Lynda straightens, but she still doesn’t turn around. “I’m aware of their abuse of power. How well they manipulate and extort. I learned early that it’s better to just do as they ask than fight against the inevitable.” Abruptly, Lynda spins, then clutches my face between her hands. Her pressure stings. “Honey, there isn’t any fairness in it, but it keeps us safe. You’re about to become a Virtue, whether you like it or not. Accept the good. The privilege that comes with it. You’re primed to attend any Ivy League you want. Any one. So few students get that kind of chance. And if you do that, if you listen to the Virtues and do as they say, they’ll leave you alone. Let you live a life of comfort and wealth in peace. It’s really the only way to survive them.”

The pot gurgles and hisses behind her, but Lynda doesn’t move.

My eyes dart to the bubbling steam spilling over the edges, then back to Lynda. “I don’t—I can’t do that.”

Her eyes well. Lynda’s so close, I feel the heat of her breath. Smell the sweetness of milk on her skin. Her fingers dig into the fat in my cheeks, my teeth aching with her applied pressure.

“You know what your mother endured,” she whispers.

I swallow, quelling the need to jerk out of her hold and scream.

“It’s because she didn’t like their rules and went against them. She was forced to run, then live a life as an office cleaner and single mother. She had everything, everything, at her fingertips, and they stripped it all from her. Do not be your mother.”

They killed her just like they killed Ivy.

The accusation is silent on my lips. Lynda looks upon me with such fervor and need, I can’t voice the truth because I’m certain she won’t listen.

“I’m not a Virtue,” I say instead.

Lynda blinks. Her arms drop from my face, then she breaks into a smile. “Well, have you had your robing ceremony?”

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