Page 130 of Faux Real
Until now.
I won’t let Oliver jeopardize his future for me. I won’t let him make that decision. It’s not his to make.
I knock on the door of the teacher’s cabin. This is my decision. My problem.
And I’m the only one that can solve it.
“Miss Carmichael,” Mrs. Patella says, opening the door. “Please go back to your cabin.”
“No,” I say, holding my ground. “I need to talk to you.”
“It’s late, Miss Carmichael,” she says, yawning. “This can wait until the morning.”
“It wasn’t Oliver’s pills,” I say. “The Adderall was mine.”
“Kennedy,” she says gently. “I know you like this boy, but don’t throw your entire future away for him. It’s not worth it, believe me.” She covers her mouth, suppressing another yawn. “Plus, Mr. Knight has already been taken back to Hilton. Go to sleep, alright? We can talk more in the morning if you want.”
She still doesn’t believe me. It’s like she’s blinded by his past.
She can’t see the truth even though it’s right here.
And the truth is...
Heisworth it.
“Fine,” I say, pulling out my phone. I hope he’s still awake. “Have a goodnight, Mrs. Patella.”
“You too, dear,” she says, shutting the door.
I dial the only man that I’ve ever trusted. “Kenny?”
“Hi, Eddie, I need a ride.”
“Is everything alright, sweet pea?”
“No, but it will be.”
forty
Bright Future
OLIVER
I’vebeenherebefore,sitting in the headmaster’s office, ignoring the slew of condescending remarks being tossed at me. It’s the same thing every time.
We warned you. You knew the consequences. We are so disappointed in you. This was your last chance. What were you thinking? Suspension. Expulsion.
Blah blah blah.
Where’s the originality? You’d think the way in which teachers reprimand their pupils would alter between continents. It’s like there’s a universal handbook that gets tossed from school to school. I got to give it to Headmaster Rothland though, at least he’s trying to get through to me. His size and baritone voice make his recycled gibberish somewhat entertaining. If I cared more, I might actually feel bad. But the thing is... I don’t care.
I don’t care because... better me than Kennedy. She’d probably be crying if she were sitting here listening to him soldier on about responsibilities and futures and mistakes. I don’t think she’d be able to handle it. But I can.
I never thought I’d finish school. I didn’t think it was possible. The fact I’ve lastedthislong is impressive enough. The only reason I wanted to graduate was to throw the diploma in my parents’ faces. A big ‘fuck you’. I wanted to show dear old Mum and Dad that, despite their preconceived notions of the type of person I was, I am indeed smart enough to finish school. I guess that plan is no longer on the cards.
And neither is my inheritance. Well...at least not for another twelve years. That’s fine though. I don’t actuallywanthis money. I don’tneedhis money. Frankly, I don’t want anything to do with
those people. The only thing I’ve ever wanted from him was respect. And I know, even if Ididgraduate and go to college, I’d never get it. Dad’s already painted me out to be a disappointment. And his paint is expensive, permanent, not easily erased. It was idiotic to think that he’d be proud. I’m doing myself a favor now. I’m savingmyselffrom disappointment.
