Prep School Experiment (11 page)

Raven shoved into her. “Kit Kat.
You are brazen.
You went right up to the new guy like you knew him.”

“I do. That’s Rhys.”

“Uh, yeah. Rhys Brentwood of the billionaire Brentwoods,” Regina said.

“Yeah, as in bastard of the billionaire married to Clarice Shay as in Shay Prep,” Raven said and popped a mint into her mouth.

“Oh.”

“He’s the old billionaire’s illegitimate son, but no one’s saying who the mom is.” Regina’s dark eyes gleamed in the fluorescent glow of the overhead lighting. She loved a good tale.

Raven shoved Kaitlin’s arm. “As if
he
could be
your
Rhys.”

“LOL. He walked right past her,” Regina said. “Kit Kat’s such a kick since she was forced to slum it in Alaska.”

“Way to go for it.” Raven spit her lemon candy into a tissue, less calories that way, and reapplied her neutral bronze lipstick. “He brushed you off, so he’s still up for grabs.”

Kaitlin swallowed. He had. He’d walked off with the Shay Crew like he didn’t know her.

Happy Birthday to me.

Dinner was a limited family affair that included Rhys, Grandmother, the librarian and Rhys’ West Texas Grandpa. The others usually convened via video, but not tonight. Grandfather Brentwood had a late meeting. Christian had a date, and the senator was away on a campaign stop.

“You seem good?” Michelle had a book, a cup of tea, and a wheat sandwich in front of her. She’d asked him to call her Michelle after he’d stumbled over Mrs. Wentworth a number of times. Mom didn’t fit, no matter what the paternity test reported.

“Well, his first day of school’s over,” Grandmother said. “That would make anyone settle down.”

Rhys thought about it before speaking. He could pinpoint the exact moment he’d calmed: when he saw Kaitlin in the hallway. So cute and innocent looking, all touchable skin with her long, silky hair.

“Yeah, boy, how did it go?” Grandpa Wentworth’s flannel-clad arm came into view as he scooped up some guacamole with a tortilla chip. No one made
him
wear a suit like they did in New York.

Grandmother had said,
“As civilized beings, we dress for dinner. Not scramble about in our daily wear as if we were animals foraging in the woods.”
That meant suit jackets stayed on. She kept the temperature cool in the dining room, so there was no excuse for even loosening his tie.

Rhys set his empty lobster bisque soup bowl by the candle. “I ran into Kaitlin, from boarding school. And I’ve felt calm ever since.”

Michelle put her sandwich down. “I’m glad you’ve been able to hang out with your friend.”

“Oh, no. I snubbed her, like Grandmother taught me. But, I still felt better.”

“Mother,” Michelle said, using the tone she’d perfected at the library when kids talked in the quiet zone.

Grandmother’s spoon dropped back into her lobster bisque, and she carried on with her dinner without responding, partaking of strategic spooning.

Grandpa Wentworth scraped the side of his salsa bowl. He dipped the chip topped with tomatoes and onions into the guac. “Is she pretty?”

“Beautiful.”

“Well, that explains it.” He chased his appetizer with a long neck. He pointed the end of the beer bottle toward the screen. “See a pretty girl and you get shot through with adrenalin. Adrenalin will shut down those other chemicals racing through you.”

“And how did she seem?” Michelle bit into a celery stick, chewed and swallowed before elaborating. “Any evidence of the difficulties you’ve experienced?”

Happy to see me. Hurt by my brushoff.

“No.”

Grandpa Wentworth waved off a second beer and switched to water. Rhys always counted. The old man had one beer max if the meal was Mexican. Other than that, he stuck to iced tea. The senator had one-to-two glasses of wine on the weekend. Michelle stuck to green tea, milk, or water. The Brentwoods had a glass of whatever went with the main course: white wine with white meats, red wine with red meats, but the glasses were small and some nights they drank water or juice too. No one had a twelve-pack sitting by their recliner.

Strange world.

Grandpa Wentworth dug into his second course, a plate of beef enchiladas in ranchero sauce, side of rice, and black beans. The tortillas on the side appeared to be homemade. “We need to get that girl over here and ask her some questions. Think you can get her here after giving her the stink eye?”

“Yeah.” The server placed the Beef Wellington in front of him along with a side of saffron rice. Rhys had first thought the portions were small, but they kept coming. Next course would be a small salad. He thanked the server before turning back to the video.

Christian slid into view, taking the seat beside Michelle. He kissed his mom on the cheek and snagged half her sandwich. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing there, boy? Thought you had a date,” Grandpa Wentworth said.

“Dating the principal’s daughter is kind of a challenge.”

Grandpa laughed and shook his head. “You boys. You both think you can snatch a scorpion from a snake’s nest with one hand. Rhys here thinks he can do the same.”

Michelle frowned. “Getting Kaitlin to come over might be a problem. I doubt she likes you anymore if you weren’t nice to her.”

Rhys dipped the tines of his fork into the horseradish sauce. When Michelle had just been the librarian he’d mostly spoken his mind around her, so he told her like it was. “Girls like you more when you’re mean to them.”

“Rhys,” Michelle said, sounding like she did when he tried to walk home alone after his shift.

He shrugged. It was true.

“Christian, tell him,” Michelle said.

Christian widened his eyes and shook his head while saying words to placate his mom. “Of course they want you to be nice, Mom.”

Rhys laughed. Christian laughed. Grandpa laughed.

Michelle slapped her half-eaten sandwich beside her cucumber slices and gave him her best librarian on a tear look through the video camera. It reminded Rhys of how often she actually had tried to guide him back in the library.

Grandmother signaled for the server to take his plate away. Rhys snatched one more slice of carrot off the side before it disappeared and the salad bowl arrived.

Michelle handed Christian two celery sticks. “
That’s
the advice you give your brother?”

“Hey,” Christian said, “I don’t have to give advice. He’s the big brother.” He paused and took a drink of what appeared to be lemonade. “Right? I’m the youngest?”

How weird.
Rhys didn’t even know the answer.
Did he have a younger brother or an older one?

“What do you think?” Grandpa Wentworth passed on a slice of Tres Leches cake. “Use your logic, boy. B—Braedon. C—Christian. Braedon was born first.”

“Rhys is three minutes older,” Michelle said, her voice soft as if remembering.

Huh. He guessed that made sense. The nurse took him away first and he got switched.

“Good,” Christian said. “All the responsibility’s on you then.”

“Include Kaitlin’s parents in the invite,” Grandmother said. “That’s how we’ll work it. I’ll have cook prepare lamb.”

Rhys nodded. “I’ll ask her.”

Kaitlin sank against her pillows and ran a hand over her soft peach sheets. The high thread count and the twinkle lights over her bed were the few things that made being home appealing. How wrong was that? She clicked her lamp off and the New York City lights shined through the gap where her curtains met.

Elena would like it here. New York City never truly got dark. Add twinkle lights overhead and darkness had no shot. She’d ordered Elena a strand of the lights for her Halloween birthday. Hopefully, they’d ship to Alaska. Things there must be working better because she’d gotten an email from Elena. She grabbed her own birthday present, a new laptop from her parents, and clicked open her email to read it again.

Happy Birthday, Kaitlin. We’re the same age now—and for the rest of the month. October babies rule! Hope this reaches you. What did you get? What kind of cake did you have? Was it cupcakes? LOL. Was your birthday dinner TexMex? What’s the New York equivalent of TexMex? Pizza? Food’s still extraordinary here. I think we had reindeer meat last night. Yeah.

I don’t know how many of my emails you’ve gotten? So forgive any repeats. Rhys left right after you. But, I haven’t heard from him. (Nor have I heard from the teacher who left…). Have you spoken to Geneva? How’s she doing?

Your classmates miss you and Rhys tons. No one’s said “kicked out” to my face, well, except Declan—but then he came down with a nasty case of stomach bug. He’s been nicer since. (Kitchen duty has its perks.)

Rooming with Nevaeh’s not the same as rooming with you. Miss you. Wishing you seventeen wishes that come true and one to grow on. Tell the outside world “hi” from me.

Your friend,

Elena

Tears burned behind Kaitlin’s eyes, and she blinked them back. At least she knew Elena was okay and if she read between the lines correctly, she hadn’t heard from their criminal science teacher. Despite that, she really wished she could talk to Elena live—to tell her about what was going on—how she didn’t recognize herself in the mirror and hated that, how Rhys was acting, and how different Shay Prep was. In Alaska, Kaitlin and her friends had sunk to the bottom of the social ladder and that still had been better than life at Shay Prep.

Loneliness crept up on her, much worse for missing Geneva and Elena, much worse for having to hang out with Regina and Raven who didn’t get her, and much worse for being home alone tonight on her birthday. Mom and Dad were attending a fundraiser. They’d never risked offending a host by leaving early, even when they were on call the next day, even when it was their daughter’s birthday.

They’d given her the new laptop and increased the limit on her credit card. Mom had suggested she use it to pick up some new clothes, now that she’d seemed to have stopped growing. She loved the laptop, but wished it had helped her find Geneva and that it would tell her if her return email made it through to Elena.

She set the computer aside. Her eyes closed and she got less tired and more awake. Her body still thought she was on Alaskan time. Grr. She rolled over and checked the clock. 10:30 p.m. EST. Rhys was on Eastern Standard Time too.

Rhys.

He’d been such a jerk at school, but if he’d talk to her, she could figure out what was wrong and fix it. Senior year would be bearable with him by her side. She could show him around, take him to her favorite deli and her favorite spot in the park.

Kaitlin rolled, grabbed her laptop, struggled into a seated position and shoved her pillows behind her. Click. She scrolled through the Shay Academy student directory for the Bs.
Brentwood, Rhys.
His picture popped up. The unholy light in his green eyes, the tilt of his square chin, and the curve of his lips were the same.

The messy sandy hair now had a posh cut and fell in more purposeful disarray. That was different. But the biggest change was his name. She wondered how they remotely got Zukowski and Brentwood mixed up. Had he been incognito in Alaska? Sent away to boarding school under an anonymous name so no one would know his illustrious family? She’d met his mom and stepdad. Maybe the rumors were true. Maybe his mom and the old billionaire had a fling.

Rhys could have told her. It wouldn’t have affected how she felt. He must have felt so bad at having to hide his real name. Rhys was the one in the foreign atmosphere; she should be the bigger person and build a bridge. Besides, tests at the boarding school had determined that she and Rhys were 98% destined to be soul mates. Who had that? With that high a compatibility score, they had to be able to work out whatever was wrong. She tapped his phone number on the directory, hit the app to dial an outside line, and kept the video link off because her cotton PJ shorts and tank were inches too short and extremely fitted now that she’d grown taller.

The phone rang.

No answer.

No freaking way she’d leave a voice mail.

She reached for the red
End Call
button.

The phone clicked, connecting.

Should
she leave a message?

Geneva would say something encouraging and military-like,
“No guts, no glory.”

Elena would say,
“No way. I warned you Rhys was trouble.”
Then her eyes would gleam like she relished a challenge and she’d say.
“Do it.”

Click.

“Hello?” Rhys answered.

Her heart jolted. “Rhys?”

“Kaitlin.” His voice turned to a drawl, extending all the syllables of her name, making it sound much longer than the clipped accent students used in New York. She loved his voice.

“Hi, uh, well, I was thinking that as you don’t really know anyone in the city that maybe you’d want to come over and hang out?” Her voice squeaked on the last word and she bit her lip, closing her eyes in embarrassment.

“What’s with girls? They won’t say ‘Hi’ to you in the hallway, and then then they call you at night to hook up?”

He was the one who hadn’t said “Hi’” And had he said “hook up”?

“What?” Hook up?

OMG, did that mean in Texas what it meant in New York?

“I’m not calling to
hook up
.” Her voice rose.

“I’m not saying
no
.”

“Sorry…. Do you know what that means here?”

“I’ll let you show me.” His voice deepened and then grew biting. “I’ll make sure I’m out before your parents see me. Then you can ignore me in the hall tomorrow.”

Her parents. His hostility had to do with her parents. She closed her eyes, thinking how to explain what she’d said to them back in Alaska. The words didn’t come. She had no glory and no guts. “Never mind.” She punched the red disconnect button and shoved the laptop on her nightstand. Her heart raced. She knew she wouldn’t sleep now. Her eyelids lowered anyway.