by A. E. Snow
Inside, we were greeted by a petite woman wearing a gray pantsuit. “Welcome to Mountain Day Academy.” She reached her hand out to shake my hand after she shook my mom’s. “I’m Elaine Rowling, Admissions and Outreach Officer.” She whisked us around and showed us fancy classrooms and a study lounge that looked like a country club. I gathered that I would be required to wear a uniform if I were unlucky enough to be sent there. I’m sure it was fine for some people but not for me. I conveyed that sentiment by sighing audibly at various intervals.
Elaine Rowling led us outside to perfectly manicured grounds. “The stables are down the lane and the field hockey field is down there.” She smiled with pride as she surveyed the expanse of green and brick.
I looked at my mom with raised eyebrows, as if to say, Do you really expect me to play field hockey? She ignored me.
Elaine continued. “The student dormitories are the buildings on the left and the gardens are behind them. Please spend some time looking around after your interview. Speaking of, please follow me inside. The headmistress will be with you soon.”
I frowned. Gardens? A lake? They must spend a literal fortune on grounds keeping.
Mom caught up with Ms. Rowling. “Can you tell us more about the art program? You see, Meadow comes from a prestigious academy for the arts.”
“Oh, delightful!” Elaine glanced back at me gave me a wide smile. “We have an art teacher and a choir. Much of our focus is on sports and academics. Our girls go on to play in excellent college sports programs across the country.”
I died inside. I don’t do sports. Also, what did she mean by ‘our girls?’
“Mom,” I whispered.
“What?” she whispered back shortly.
“Is this an all-girls’ school?”
“Yes.”
What? I was horrified and terrified. When I thought of a private school like this, I thought of an entire school filled with field-hockey playing Emilia clones, a terrifying prospect. I followed Elaine and Mom down the perfectly manicured path with entirely weed-free flower beds on either side, benches, and views of the mountains all around, up the stairs and back into the huge hallway. We entered an office that looked more like a throne room for the queen than a school.
My despair and anxiety grew with each step. This entire school is the same exact thing that I want to get away from. Competition. Mean rich girls. And field hockey players.
“Have a seat. Dr. Myer will be right with you.” Elaine shook our hands again and disappeared through French doors with glass panes. Not a single finger print dulled the sparkle of the glass.
I sat down, crossed my legs, and glared at my mom.
“Don’t blame me,” she said. “I didn’t pick this place out, your dad did. You already know my preference.”
I didn’t say anything. Mom took that as an invitation to keep talking. It wasn’t.
“Is there a reason you want to leave? Did something happen?” Mom’s eyes were full of concern and confusion.
“I’m sure ready for something different. That’s all,” I shrugged.
Mom leaned toward me. “Did Emilia do something?” she asked quietly.
I stared at the scuff marks on my left shoe.
“She did, didn’t she?” Mom pressed.
I turned my attention to my right shoe.
Mom sighed, angry at my lack of response. “That’s enough Meadow,” she whisper-yelled. “Your grandfather was a founder of HSA. Does that not mean anything to you?”
That hit me the wrong way. Of course, it meant everything to me. “I’m not good enough to be there. I am a disgrace to his name,” I just blurted it out. Loudly. The stress must have gotten to me.
Mom’s face fell from anger to sadness. “Is that what you think?”
Of course, exactly at that moment, the door opened and Elaine peeped her head out. “Dr. Myer is ready for you.”
Tears filled my eyes. I stood up and took a deep breath, biting my tongue to keep from crying.
For once, Mom saved me. She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the door. “I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Rowling, something urgent has just come up. We’ll be in touch.” Before Mrs. Rowling had time to react, we were out the door.
In the car, I burst into tears as we tore out of the parking lot.
“Something happened, didn’t it?” Mom asked gently.
I nodded, staring out of the window.
“You can tell me. Please, tell me,” she said.
With a sigh, I told her about the terrible last day of school. I told her about Mr. Egan and what he said, and Emilia telling half of the student body. I told her that the only person that had said anything nice about it was Alejandro. And then I cried. A lot.
“Meadow, I’m so sorry that happened. I wish you had told me. I had no idea you felt that way and I’m so sad for you because it isn’t true. You are very talented and your grandfather would be proud. He would be proud of you whether or not you could paint. Okay?”
I nodded, but I since I’d finally released the tears, they wouldn’t stop. We rode home in silence except Mom called to cancel the second school visit.
Right before we got back into town, Mom said, “Honey, is that everything? Is anything else going on?”
I wanted badly to talk to tell her about Alejandro and Jack, and about Isla’s mom. “No. I’m just feeling a little lost.”
“I feel like I never see you,” Mom said. “I’ve been really busy and I’m sorry. As soon as Twist’s show is open, things will calm down. Meanwhile, just hang in there. We will fix this. Yeah?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll talk to Dad. Don’t worry about the interviews.”
My super-fun evening consisted of a family meeting. Dad attended via speakerphone and he was furious, in part because it was an ungodly hour in Paris. Mom tried to smooth things over with him and said we’d all talk when he got home, after Twist’s show.
After, Mom gave me a really long speech about finding my inspiration, whatever that meant, and then we ate a subdued dinner. I had cereal.
Mom drank too much wine. By the end of the evening, she had tears in her eyes and said, “I am just so honored that you both chose me to be your mother. I am so lucky.”
I caught Twist’s eye. She shrugged.
“Thanks, Mom,” I muttered. I dumped my cereal bowl in the sink and retreated to my room. I got online to see if anyone was around. Jack was.
Jack: How was your day?
Meadow: Eh.
Jack: So really great then?
Meadow: Yes! Absolutely!
Jack: Me too!
Meadow: That’s great! Why was your day so great?
Jack: Well, I was finally made CEO of Google AND I added a tiger to my collection of exotic animals.
See? Funny guy. He was easy to talk to about anything. I just felt better when I signed off.
Mom came in before she went to bed. She was a little more composed.
“Meadow, let’s not make any decisions yet. I’m going to keep you enrolled at HSA—”
I started to protest.
“Let me finish. I’m keeping you enrolled at HSA, but after you’ve had time to really think and we’ve all had time to really discuss it, if you still don’t want to go to HSA, I’ll enroll you at Berkeley High. Let’s just get through Twist’s show.”
“That sounds reasonable,” I said. It did. But I didn’t quite believe her that I could enroll in a regular school without a fuss. I was already getting used to the idea of being strong-armed back to HSA on the first day of school.
“I want you to be happy, Meadow. I just don’t want you to sell yourself short.” She left after she said that and closed the door softly, instead of with her characteristic bang.
I change
d into my “sad” outfit, a holey T-shirt, and baggy gray pants. Exhausted both emotionally and physically, I eased into the bed and curled up next to Hank. We comforted ourselves with old episodes of America’s Next Top Model. I’d nearly drifted off when my text alert went off really loudly. I jumped and Hank made a huffy exit.
Alejandro: I’m outside. I would have knocked on the window but I didn’t want to scare you. Can I come in?
It was the longest text I’d ever received from him.
Yeah, I texted back. Go around back by the garage. I’ll be right out.
The sleeping loft was above a small room that had been our playroom when we were kids. Now it was sort of a catch-all room and full of Twist’s stuff. But it had a separate entrance and you didn’t have to go through the main part of the house to get to it.
There was no time to be concerned about my appearance. I tiptoed out of my room and through the former playroom. I unlocked and opened the door, ready to jump at any sound. The door opened silently and Alejandro materialized from the bushes next to the garage.
“Hi,” I whispered.
“Hi.” His hair, disheveled and wild, stuck out all over. Completely hot.
Before I had time to say anything else, he kissed me. We stood there, leaned up against the doorframe for a few minutes before I realized that this was a recipe for being grounded forever and then some. I pulled him inside, then shut and locked the door as quietly as I could.
“We have to be so quiet,” I whispered. Sneaking a boy into my house was the opposite of a Meadow thing to do. I blushed hotly as I climbed the ladder to the loft.
He was right behind me and we were kissing again before we even got settled into the bed. Occasionally, we came up for air.
“Is that the kitchen?” Alejandro whispered, nodding toward the curtained window behind us.
I nodded. More kissing.
There was an urgency that had never been there before. We also went further than ever before. Laying down and kissing? I was pretty sure there were laws against that. My mom had never gone over the kissing house rules with me because it had never been an issue before, but I was pretty sure this was on the ‘don’t do it’ list. Adrenaline pumped through me, both from the kissing and the law-breaking.
Alejandro sat up suddenly, took his shirt off and pulled me on top of him. I wished I had on beautiful lacy top instead of a tank top with holes. Then again, he didn’t seem to care.
I was dizzy yet exhilarated by the danger of the situation, knowing that being caught would result in my demise.
A loud bang coming from the kitchen startled us both. I froze.
“What was that?” Alejandro whispered.
“I don’t know.” I peeped through the curtain into the kitchen. Twist, covered in splatters of paint, made coffee in the kitchen. I sighed with relief.
“It’s Twist,” I whispered as quietly as I could.
Alejandro tugged my arm. I settled down next to him, and I laid my head on his chest. His fingers brushed my back under my shirt making me shiver.
We didn’t make a sound, not even a whisper, until we heard Twist and go back to the studio for another late night. T-minus seven days until the opening.
“I should probably go.”
“Okay.” I really didn’t want him to leave.
“I don’t want to,” he said softly.
We sat up and faced each other and kissed again.
Finally, Alejandro found his shirt and put it back on. I tried to suppress giggles. I peeked out of the loft to make sure the coast was clear before I dared to climb down. He followed me to the door and kissed me again before I unlocked it and he disappeared into the night.
Chapter 12
Morning came too early. I’d been hired on as Mom’s gallery help to get ready for the opening. Not that I had much of a choice. There was a week between shows and we had to take all the art down, pack up, clean, and hang Twist’s show.
I might have been a little distracted, or completely distracted. I found myself staring off into space about a hundred times, thinking about the way Alejandro’s hair was always messy/tangly/curly or his eyes or his arms . . .
“Meadow!” Mom snapped her fingers by my face. “Did you hear me?”
“What?” Startled, I felt my cheeks heat. Oops.
“What is wrong with you today?” she asked, exasperated.
“Um, I’m just tired, I guess.”
“Well, I’m not going to ask you again,” she said.
“Ask me what?”
She groaned. “I need you to run to the store for duct tape.” Hands on her hips, she glared down at me where I sat wrapping and taping packing bubbles around a painting. The lighting behind her lit up her frizzy hair like a halo.
Things pretty much went the same way all day. Isla came over that night. Her mood had lifted and she couldn’t contain her smile. “We are leaving in the morning for a quick trip to Santa Fe. My mom is getting out of the hospital. And guess what else?”
“What?”
She squeezed my hand and bounced up and down. “She’s moving here!”
“That’s great news!” I cried.
She nodded. “Dad rented her a really tiny studio downtown.”
“I’m so glad, Isla.”
“Thanks. I just hope things go okay with my dad. It can be a little touch and go.”
“When are you coming back?”
“We’re going for a long weekend. We’ll be back on Monday.”
“See you then?”
“Absolutely!” She hugged me before gliding home.
Saturdays are supposed to be for sleeping in. Instead, I stood on a ladder at 8 a.m taking a really strange painting off the gallery wall. I wrestled with a large, scary painting that looked like someone’s worst nightmare come to life. I shuddered and wobbled the ladder. I very nearly dropped the painting as I grabbed onto the top rung. “Shit! I hate ladders,” I told the painting. “I don’t like you much, either.
Standing on ladders was not supposed to be my job. The person whose job it actually was, or used to be, had run off to Israel to live on a kibbutz. I considered joining her.
I got the painting down and it had to immediately be packed and ready to go somewhere. I didn’t know where, not my job.
With a sigh, I glanced around the room. Still so many paintings left to take down and wrap. Then I had to touch up the wall paint and get rid of all the scuffs.
As I worked, my mind drifted to Alejandro again and again. I’d been mooning about absentmindedly since that night to the total annoyance of my mother. Especially when we realized I’d mislabeled five paintings.
After that, I’d gotten a speech. “Critics are going to come in with a bad attitude for two reasons: Twist is my child, and she is the grandchild of Levi Hobart. So we have to blow them away. Everything has to be perfect.” Then she’d looked at me pointedly as if to say, Get it together, Meadow. But no pressure or anything.
Gabe, mom’s assistant and an incredibly stylish gay man, wandered through. He stopped and put one finger against his chin while he surveyed the room. Gabe was flawless and I’d only ever seen skin like his on babies. I wondered what his skin care routine was. I could probably use some pointers considering I thought I felt the beginnings of a zit on my forehead. I hoped my bangs would keep it covered.
“How you doing, baby girl?” he said and gave me a hug.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Well you look gorgeous,” he said, drawing out the word so it sounded like multiple syllables.
“Shut up.” I smacked his arm.
“Girl, you do. I wouldn’t lie about something like that! I gotta run.” He blew me a kiss and went on his way.
I climbed back up the ladder. Noticing my vision seem
ed clouded, I leaned against the step and cleaned my glasses on my shirt. As I scrubbed off the fingerprints on my holey tank top, Mom’s voice trickled in.
“You’ll be working with my other daughter, Meadow,” she said, entering the room.
Relieved that I might have some help, I turned to see who the savior was. Jack stood next to her smiling up at me.
“I know Meadow.” He lifted his hand in a wave.
I stuck my glasses back on and almost poked out my eye. “Uh, hi.” I looked back and forth from Mom to Jack, Jack to Mom.
“You do?” Mom asked.
“Yeah, from school.” He smiled, charming my mother.
“Oh, you go to HSA?” She trilled. I’d almost never seen her so enthusiastic. She told him the whole story of her father, the great Levi Hobart.
He was preoccupied listening to her so I chose that moment to climb back down the ladder in what I hoped was a somewhat graceful fashion.
When she was done regaling him with tales of our family, she ushered him over to where I stood.
“You’ll be helping Meadow take down the show and get ready for the hang.” Mom gestured to the walls which were half-covered in abstract paintings.
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other suddenly self-conscious of everything including my ratty clothes and the oldest pair of Chucks in existence maybe. I touched my hair, horrified that it was neither washed nor combed. Furthermore, I had skipped makeup.
“Meadow, get him started, would you?” Mom asked handing me my latte. “I’ll check in on you in a little while.” She click-clacked into her office.
I took a sip of my lava-hot coffee and sputtered a little.
“Are you okay?” Jack asked.
I nodded and wiped my chin. “These things are designed to stay crazy hot for hours, aren’t they?”