Page 65

She let out a sigh. “That I need to get as far away from here as I can.”
“Yale is in Connecticut,” I answered, taking my seat again.
With so much sadness in her eyes, she said, “Not far enough.”
“Honey...” I paused. “Is everything okay at home?”
Her mouth opened as if she wanted to speak, but she didn’t, her eyes shining. She couldn’t answer me, and a pit grew in my stomach.
“Are you in danger?” I asked, keeping my voice gentle but firm. I needed to know how I could help.
“I’m not,” she said simply, but didn’t divulge any more.
“Do I need to call the cops? Is there any way I can help?”
She pressed her lips together, taking the packets for Yale and the Art Institute of Chicago from my desk. “I’ll apply for these schools.”
I reached out, taking the packets. “I’m your guidance counselor. And I’m supposed to help you reach your goals in life. Off the record, is this really what you want to do?”
Slowly, she seemed to relax back into her chair, and she shook her head. “I want to see the world. Outside of my father’s control. And I want to see real art. Not just pictures in textbooks. And maybe, someday, I can make art like that too.”
My mind worked the pieces together. The dark circles under her eyes. The fact that I’d only ever seen her mother at school functions. “You know... Plenty of students take gap years in Europe. But it would require some money for plane tickets, hostels, food.”
“I have it,” she said, a desperate excitement coloring her words. For the first time since coming in here, there was a light in her eyes. Hope. “I’ve saved everything. Birthday money from my grandparents. Everything from my jobs.”
She needed this.
And me? I was here to help.
34
OLLIE
I shut my locker and did a double-take. Was that my dad, walking into the building? Why was he here?
With my brows drawn together, I walked toward him, looking around. “Dad, what are you doing here?” I asked when I reached him. I’d caught up on all those bullshit assignments. He couldn’t be here to talk to Ms. Melrose.
A frown crossed his face for a fraction of a second before he replaced it with a smile. “Just here to ask some questions about the handbook.”
Okay, this was weird. “Thehandbook?”
“Yeah,” he said, scratching his chin. “I, uh, you’re always complaining about how you can’t wear shorts with your uniform, you know, how it gets too hot. Thought maybe I could have that changed for you.”
People were beginning to look at us, and dear god, the girls were checking out my dad. I just threw up in my mouth a little bit. I had to get himoutof here.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said, walking toward the exit.
He followed me slowly. “It’s not a big deal, really. And your mother said I should get more involved.”
“Since when do you listen to what Mom wants you to do?” I retorted. He’d turned down at least a million requests from her to use a personal stylist and update his wardrobe. (Not that I could blame him. My stepdad had used Mom’s stylist, and now he looked like he was trying to be fifteen instead of fifty.)
Dad frowned, tilting his head. “Honey.”
“Don’t call me that at school,” I whispered, looking around to make sure no one had heard. I didn’t need to look any lamer than I already did with my braces and acne. One overheard pet name, and I’d be honey for a year.
His shoulders sagged, and I felt like an asshole. “I’ll see you later, Dad?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m just going to grab an events calendar while I’m here.”