Page 28 of And They Were Roommates

45. Charlie von Hevringprinz

46. Aiden Alston

Chapter 11BORROWED DREAMS

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 11

Less than an hour after the weekly grade announcements, Maverick the Residential Retainer informs me that Mom would like to have a word.

Over the backdrop of Mozart’s “Rondo alla Turca” playing from the gramophone, Ms. Lyney hands me the phone over the counter. “Five minutes. Communication with family outside of emergencies is unfortunately supposed to be kept to a minimum, love.”

I take the phone. “Hel—”

“You’re second to last on the grade rankings?”

Arrow to the heart. “Hello, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetie. How are you doing?” From her warbling voice, I can already picture her sitting behind the Bibliobibuli Bookstore register, tugging on a blouse she bought from Q Train Vintage two blocks from our apartment.

I clutch the phone harder to keep my emotions together. After coming in at forty-fifth place, I expected the sensation of failure to eat me alive during this call, but not only two seconds in. “I’m fine.”

“The top five scholarship requirement is for each term. That’s coming up soon. Are you still thinking you’ll be able to handle this? You can always come home and visit on a weekend, you know. We can even reconsider this.”

I wince. “I know. How did you hear about my grades already?”

“A notification was sent to my email.”

Unspoken Guideline 7: Technology is only used to snitch on students to their parents.

“Are you having a hard time?” Mom says when I don’t respond, only to pause when a yawn overtakes her. A con of never taking a day off from the bookstore. “Or are you just not adjusting to living alone?”

I’m not living alone.

I could never tell Mom. Her worry would soar through the roof. As long as I can avoid that, I’ll hopefully make it out of this call alive. “That’s not why. I said, I’m fine.”

“All right. Oh, that reminds me, you’ve read the guidelines package? You’re making sure to follow it? I know from personal experience that it’s a lot to memorize.”

“Yes.” The guilt for lying hits hard. I don’t even know how she’d react, knowing I’m breaking the number one guideline with STRIP. Ontopof what I’m hiding.

“Good. As an Excellence Scholar, I remember having to be an example for the rest of the students. And you know what I always say—breaking rules always spirals.”

“I know.”

“Did I tell you about Samantha? My friend I lost touch with because she copied an algebra problem of mine during class and was sent home?”

“I get it, Mom.”

She sighs. “I know. I know. I’m trying to be supportive like you asked. Just promise you’ll let me know the second you have doubts, okay?”

Ms. Lyney shows two fingers. Two minutes.

My conflicting feelings that have built up since stepping on campus sizzle on my tongue. That hiding who I am, let alone at an all-boys academy, is starting to feel impossible. That maybe Mom easily ranked top five because she didn’t fear her own roommate, and she could make friends because there wasn’t any risk of them looking a little too closely and figuring out a hidden truth. That maybe she was right all along, and this is too risky. But Ms. Lyney is here, listening.

“How’s the store?” I ask to change the subject.

A beat passes over the line. Then the sound of shuffling papers, as if this reminded her to keep working behind the cash register that’s always cluttered with mail and administrative files. “Sales have been slow this week. But back-to-school season should bring in our usual local teachers soon.”

It’s not like I expected much change after twelve years of her struggling to keep the lights on after my dad cheated and caused their divorce. Especially now that I’m away from Queens and can’t help. Maybe that’s also why she’s so stressed. “You think?”

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