Page 7 of The Consequence of You
In my early teens, I spent a year atLa Merrawith Aurelia after one prank too many at Heathley Academy. Our parents hoped Aurelia’s focus and work ethic would rub off on me, and perhaps the change of scene would somehow transform me into someone else entirely, but they were shit out of luck. Eventually, the institute tired of me, and I returned to the Academy. They could ‘no longer support my learning’ or some other equally tedious reason. Let’s say the Duke and Duchess weren’t best pleased.
For years, I tried to make them proud, and it didn’t work. Then, I tried to get their attention in other ways, which, admittedly, have been more effective. But if I’m entirely honest, the consensus is that I’m simply an inconvenience to them. Take my, objectively speaking, outstanding results today. It was a photo opportunity for them. That was all.
My mind drifts to earlier today. Because of my friendship with Grayson, I ended up opening my results with the girl I’d spent most of my school years hating on. Despite the way I treated her over the years, her congratulations sounded more sincere than my own parents, which is fucking pathetic by anyone’s standards.
ASHER-AGE 14
Calliope Messina. Perfect glossy hair. Perfect straight teeth. Perfect skin. Perfect grades.
So. Fucking. Perfect. Even her parents were perfect. Showing up at every school event, every prize giving, smiling, doting, so fucking proud.
The Messina family sat in a row outside the headmaster’s office, chatting quietly amongst themselves. From their conversation, I gleaned they had been called in to be personally told about Callie scoring top in the year in a recent geography test.
My own family sat opposite. Smiling just as widely, the three of us knew it was a façade. They knew as well as I did, they hadn’t been called in to hear about some accolade, but rather to hear how I spent morning break.
Stripping the paint off the chemistry teacher’s car bonnet, because rather than let us carry out the required practical element of the syllabus, Mr Mason made us watch a YouTube video while he played Candy Crush on his phone. My parents won’t care that he wasn’t doing his job properly, or that they’re paying through the nose for a frankly sub-par education. Their only concern will be making it right before the story hits the papers. Before Mr Mason tries to make a few extra pennies to top up his measly teacher’s salary.
Thanks to me, my classmates had a close-up demonstration of corrosion in action. They’ll never forget sodium hydroxide can strip paint down to the metal in less than three minutes.
But I won’t be getting a pat on the back. My parents are hoping their name, their sway, will mean instead, I get a slap on the wrist, and my misdemeanour gets swept under the carpet.
I looked between the two families. The Messina’s smiles were genuine. The Pennington’s were not.
Mrs Messina, who looks like an older version of her daughter, catches me looking at her and smiles widely. Naturally, I smiled back. She probably assumed I was here for the samereason as her daughter, and who was I to shatter her illusion? My mother witnessed the exchange and pinned me with a frown. Christ. What does the woman want from me?
The school secretary escorted Callie and her family into the headmaster’s office, leaving the three of us alone.
“Really, Asher? What do you have to be smiling about?”
“Just being polite, Mother. That’s all. No need for the conniptions.”
“Young man, you’d do well to remember your manners when you speak to your mother!” my father interjected. Before I could respond, the secretary returned to her desk, her eyes flicking between us, clearly picking up on the tension, even though she couldn’t possibly have heard us. Of course, she knows why they’re here. She made the call to my parents half an hour after the fire brigade and the paramedics arrived. The bloody emergency services. What a waste of everyone’s time. It was a simple chemical reaction. I’d made sure the area was secure. No one was hurt. No one was even at risk of getting hurt. As per usual, a massive overreaction.
Ten minutes later, I stopped listening to the headmaster’s lecture and started imagining the conversation that had taken place with Callie and her family.
Callie is so wonderful. Callie is so amazing. Callie is so bloody perfect.
I couldn’t fucking stand her, or her perfect family. I tuned back in to hear my punishment.
“My recommendation is for Asher to transfer to an alternative school. One with a wider syllabus perhaps. It is clear your son is easily bored, and I feel his presence here is becoming somewhat of a distraction for the other students.
CHAPTER FIVE
CALLIE
After enjoying a lovely lunch with Dahlia and her family, I head home. Rossi waits at the door for me expectantly. It’s sweet how he does his best to step into my father’s role when he’s not here. I hope he knows how much I appreciate the gesture.
“Are we happy?”
“We’re happy.” His face lights up as I hold up my results for him to read.
“Fantastico!” He reveals a pretty bunch of flowers from behind his back. “You worked hard, and you deserve those results.”
“Thank you so much. They’re beautiful.”
“Shall I put them in a vase while you call your father?”
“Please.” I nod gratefully.
