Page 90 of The Academy
Charley would accuse her mother of making sweeping generalizations, but she wonders if this is what Fran needs to believe right now to keep herself sane. Joey is so much younger, maybe he did wake up one morning and realize he was married to a middle-aged woman. Maybe he would like kids of his own. Part of Charley wants to rejoice—if Fran is right, she and Joey will divorce and Charley will be rid of him forever!—but she can’t stand to see her mother so upset.
That night, when Charley gets home, she texts Beatrix.Have you seen Joey recently?
No,Beatrix responds.Why, did he ask about me????
Charley exhales. It’s not Beatrix.
Simone has no money for a proper vacation and so she goes home to Montreal to stay with her parents, which is fine right up until the day Simone wakes up and finds that both her parents have stayed home from work because they want to talk to her.
“We think you’re drinking too much,” Simone’s father says.
Simone goes to the kitchen for coffee, which in her parents’ house means dealing with a candy apple–red De’Longhi espresso machine that they bought the same week Simone left for Tiffin. (Meet our replacement child!Simone’s mother joked at Christmas.) Simone snaps right back into barista mode, brewing up a double shot with steamed milk; the ritual gives Simone time to process her father’s words. They think she’s drinking too much? Both of them drink one and sometimes two bottles of wine with dinner—Sancerre, Château Margaux—because they’re French Canadian, it’s the culture. Naturally, Simone has joined them. Then, some nights she’s hit the bars on Crescent, she met some old McGill friends at Gerts, and she had one epic night clubbing at La Voûte, but that was MDMA and a little coke, not alcohol, or not much. (She ended up going home with some corporate attorney named Sharif who lived in Old Montreal.)
She returns to the living room with her cappuccino. “I guess I’m not sure why you say that? I drink the same amount as both of you.”
Her mother frowns. “I found four emptybouteilles de vinin your room, Simone. As well as all of these…” She empties a reusable grocery bag full of nip bottles onto the table. There are easily three dozen—Jägermeister, Bacardi, Grand Marnier—as well as an empty fifth of Cîroc vodka.
“I’m twenty-four years old,” Simone says. “I can do what I want.”
“Oui, mais pas chez nous,”her mother says.
“We’re concerned about you, Simone,” her father says.
There are still two days until Simone needs to be back at school, but she flees that afternoon, packing up her RAV4 and stealing a case of wine from her parents’ collection. If they want to see a drinking problem, she’ll show them a drinking problem.
She pulls onto campus as the sun is descending. All traces of the snowfall are gone, though it might be optimistic to call the weather springlike. Simone relishes the peace and quiet; she’ll have the whole campus to herself.
She regards the roller bag, duffel, and case of wine in the back of her car. She’ll have to make two trips, which is a drag, but she has nothing but time. She takes her luggage and leaves the wine, checking the Back Lot for Mr. James—but the garage that serves as the “security office” is all closed up.
She enters Classic South using her ID, hoping there isn’t some rule against returning early. (How would she explain?I had to leave home before my parents sent me to rehab?) The first floor feels cold and foreign without the energy, laughter, and constant babble ofles filles.But Simone decides to embrace the silence.
A few minutes later, as she’s lifting the case of wine out of the back of her car, a black pickup pulls into the lot.Abort!Simone thinks. But it’s too late; the truck swings into the spot right next to hers. The back of the truck holds a bundle of two-by-fours, a sawhorse, a circular saw. This is someone doing maintenance work, maybe, a random contractor who could give two shits that a teacher at school is carrying a case of wine up to her room. But does Simone need to worry for her personal safety?
The driver gets out, taking a good long time to come around. Should Simone hurry away? Yes—but she can’t seem to move. Then she sees that the driverisn’tsome random carpenter. It’s East.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi?” Simone says.
East’s gaze lands on the wine bottles in the box. “You throwing a party?”
She hates that she’s already on the defensive. She hates that East has gotten a tan wherever he’s been—Did he go to Harbour Island with the sixth-form?—and that he looks even hotter than normal. She hates that she finds him hot normally.
“What are you doing back early?” she asks.
“What areyoudoing back early?”
Her eyes flick toward the stairs that lead to campus. “Is anyone else back? Ms. Robinson? Mr. James?”
“Nope.”
“In that case,” she says, “want to come to my room for a glass of wine?”
East raises his eyebrows. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Simone says. “You’re with Charley now.”
He stands up a little straighter. “That I am.”
