Page 86 of The Silent Note

“Can I have a word alone?”

“Yes, of course?—”

“With my daughter.”

“Oh.” He glances back and forth between me and mom and then skitters to his feet. “You ladies take your time. Mrs. Cross, lovely to finally meet you in person.”

“I’m sorry to have intruded on a busy man like yourself.”

“My pleasure. With all your husband’s contributions to Redwood, well, you can just consider this your second home.” He smiles so wide, his cheeks will probably hurt after this. “And let me just say, I’m stunned you all managed to keep this a secret. I had no idea Miss Jamieson was Jarod Cross’s step-daughter. We’re honored that someone from your esteemed family is among our staff.”

He nods to me.

I cringe.

Mom’s lips curl up but her eyes are hard. She waits for him to scramble outside. The door clicks shut softly. Even his exit is crafted to please her.

Silence falls between us.

Mom looks me up and down, assessing me. “How are you feeling?”

I rub my scar awkwardly. No one has mentioned it, but I saw several students staring at the jagged line, probably making wild stories in their minds about where it came from.

“Are you taking your medication?”

I breathe in and out.

Mom starts to get up. “You look weak, Gracie. Let me call back Vincent and ask him to bring in some tea.”

“Don’t.”

“It’s no bother. He’s eager to help.”

Heat burns through my words. “Of course it’s a bother. We’re a school. Everyone here is busy.”

Annoyance crosses her face.

“You don’t think any of that was for you, do you?” I gesture to the door the vice principal walked out of. “Harris pretended to be spineless. Vincent isn’t pretending. He’s the real thing. Pushing him around isn’t an accomplishment.”

Mom sits down again. “You’re angry.”

“I’m trying to understand why you drove all the way here to get me fired.”

“A sabbatical isn’t a firing. It’s a break.”

“Mom.”

“I found a nice school in Europe.” Mom talks calmly. “That’s where all your favorite books are? The classics? I saw the brochures online. They offer a Masters in Greek Lit. The classes are top notch. And the campus is beautiful. The gardens? You’ll love it. Perfect place to sit outside on a balmy day and read. Imagine looking at the same sky your favorite writers were looking at when they put those words on the page.”

The knot in my chest grows, tightening, squeezing.

“It doesn’t have to be Europe. I heard from the girls in the VIP lounge. Everyone is going to Africa now. It’s far less crowded, more exclusive and luxurious. We can take a gap year before you study?—”

I shoot to my feet.

Mom’s mouth snaps shut.

My hand trembles and I set it flat against the desk. I don’t know why I’m more emotional than usual, but it’s a struggle to wrangle all my feelings into something less explosive.

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