by Jaye Cox
“Who is throwing sausage?” Elsie asks, confused.
“Don’t worry. Is there something you wanted, Kalen?”
“Yes, actually,” he says, holding out another slip. Where in the hell did he pull that from? It’s like he has a stash in his budgie smugglers. As my eyes inadvertently drop down to his package again, I get a much better look at his rib ink. It’s a tattoo of some sort of Celtic knot. It seems vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it. I guess if you’ve seen one Celtic Knot, you’ve seen them all.
“What did I do this time?”
“Here at Knox Academy we hold ourselves to a higher standard, not just in school time, but outside of it too. Dress appropriately next time.”
I take the slip, and while it’s a warning slip this time and not an actual detention slip, I rip it into as many pieces as I can all while maintaining eye contact.
“Stick this up your ass! This is all I have. We don't all come from a place that requires nice winter outfits. It’s hot as fuck where I live. And in case you didn’t notice, I’m not the spoilt rich kid of a loaded headmaster!” I throw the papers at him as I stand and Elsie follows suit. Kalen doesn’t say anything, he just watches us leave.
“Holy shit, you’re going to be in so much trouble. Skipping detention and refusing a warning. And you’re only on day two!”
“Maybe they’ll send me home,” I say hopefully.
“Doubtful.” Elsie scowls, her face falling. “They have ways to get you to comply. Trust me when I say that. There isn’t much you can do to get kicked out of here, which is the point of being sent here. You should see how many times Branson has tried to get himself kicked out. He is inventive.”
“I met him actually, he seems cool.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say he is cool...more like scary as fuck. He is hostile, and a complete loner.”
“My kind of guy.”
We say our goodbyes and head back towards our own rooms. Elsie has to go off campus, but I don’t have a pass yet, and I’m unsure if I’ll be able to get one. Sleeping the day away sounds like a good way to pass the time, so I go the long way back to my dorm to see if I can find Susan on the way.
I don’t find Susan. I’m actually a little bit sad about that. Annoying as she was, she was someone to talk to. Maybe someone has handed her in and will bring her back to me. I head into my dorm. I need to come up with some plans anyway. I need a phone, this once a week crap won’t do. I need to have family support to get me through this, and I won’t let my incubator set down rules. She hasn’t in almost a decade, so I’m not about to let her start now.
Chapter Six
As promised, the incubator sends a car for me on Sunday. I had hoped she’d have forgotten, but no, it seems my presence at ‘family’ dinner is still mandatory. I scowl, as I get into the ostentatious black limo that she’s sent, and then I remember that I’ll have the use of my phone while I’m there.
Excitement fizzles through me and I spend the short car ride debating who to call first: Aadi, Smalls, or my dad. And then there’s Sawyer. I wonder if he’s texted me since Friday. I hope he has. I want to be able to reply to him. Even if he’s just sent me his number, at least I’ll have it and be able to initiate a conversation. I’m going to have to find a way to swipe the phone from the house. There’s no way I’m leaving it there.
“Excuse me?” I tap gently on the privacy glass that separates me from the driver. The partition slides down.
“Yes, Miss Knox?” the driver asks politely.
“That’s not my name!” I’m so taken aback that I can’t even remember what I wanted to say.
“My apologies, Miss.”
“Rossi. I’m Amelie Rossi.”
“I beg your pardon, Miss Rossi, your...erm...mother told me to call you that.”
“No. It’s definitely Rossi,” I insist firmly.
“I’m sorry. What can I do for you?”
“Can we stop at the shops on the way?”
“What kind of shop?”
“Is there a supermarket en route?”
“There’s not, Miss. But we have time to take a short detour.”
“Thank you.” I sit back in my seat, happy that I’ve found a solution to the phone-issue at least. I finger the edges of the credit card bribe that Headmaster Knox gave me. I’ve taken to carrying it everywhere with me. It doesn’t hurt to be prepared and I don’t have any cash in this Godforsaken country.
The driver pulls up outside a large place called Tesco and I race inside. I have no idea what kind of store it is, but it looks large enough to have an electronics department. On my way in, I spot an ATM and decide to use that. I figure taking cash off the card is less traceable than paying by card. I know iPhones aren’t cheap and I don’t want a big purchase like that to show on my statement.
Luckily, it doesn’t take me long to find where they keep the electronics. I grab the empty box for the latest iPhone off the shelf and head to the checkout, stopping to grab some other essentials that I need on the way. I pay with the cash and head over to customer services to exchange the dud box for the real one.
“Here you go, miss.” They hand me the boxed phone and I race off to the toilets to unpack it. I slip the phone inside my blazer pocket and toss everything else into my oversized bag.
I’m back in the car within ten minutes. Probably less. Done, the driver continues to the house where the incubator has shacked up with step-daddy and plays happy families with all her perfect step-sons.
I grind my teeth, once again angry that she can be such a perfect fucking parent to kids that aren’t hers, but that she abandoned me and my brother without a care in the world.
Yeah, looks like I’m going to be breaking my word to the headmaster: I’m in no mood to play nice.
The car pulls up in front of a house which is even more ridiculously ostentatious than the limo. I can’t help but wonder how a headmaster makes the sort of cash that would be needed to buy and live in a place like this. The house would suggest he’s less philanthropic than Sawyer led me to believe on Friday. Maybe he uses the entrance fee for his mortgage, rather than building improvements around the school.
Seeing the house makes my mother’s interest in a school headmaster slightly more understandable. I’m not stupid enough to think she’s in love with Monty, no matter how decent he might seem to be. No, with her there’s always an ulterior motive.
I don’t want to get out of the car.
“What’s your name?” I ask the driver to stall for time.
“Larry, Miss Rossi.” I immediately like him for listening to me, even though he’s paid to follow my mother’s orders.
“Will you be my regular driver?”
“That is my employer’s intent, Miss Rossi.”
“I think if we’re going to be spending so much time together, you can just call me Amelie.”
“We’ll see, Miss Rossi. It’s early days yet and I do like to get to know a person before I drop the formalities.”
“I like you, Larry.”
“Thank you, Miss Rossi. But you really do have to get out of the car now.”
I thank Larry because he went out of his way for me, and then approach the house. There’s no bell, so I knock. When no one answers, I try the door. It’s open, so I let myself into the hallway. There’s no one around but straight away I hear raised voices coming from the door to my left. I creep over to eavesdrop.
"Why didn't you fucking tell us your mistress had a daughter?" It sounds like one of the twins whisper-yelling at his dad.
"Watch your tone, boy, I don't have to tell you shit.” It’s the angriest I’ve ever heard step-daddy dearest sound. I didn’t think he was capable of losing his temper.
"She doesn't belong here, and you know it. We don’t even have to look at her to know she won’t be a good fit! She won't last the year, let alone the next three." That's definitely the other twin’s voice. I just don’t know which one is which. They didn’t exactly introduce themselves whe
n they kidnapped and threatened me.
"The decision has been made.” Principal Knox’s voice is tight and firm. Whatever they’re on about, he’s not budging on it.
"Wait until I tell Mum about this,” Kalen joins in.
I feel a small stab of disappointment that he’d join the twins. But then I figure, they’ve not actually met me yet – as their step-sister anyway – and so he doesn’t know who he’s protesting against. I weirdly kind of hope that he’ll change his mind when he realises that I’m the girl he’s been relentlessly flirting with for the last few days.
"Your mother no longer has any say in the matter.” It’s the last thing I hear before the door flies open and I’m standing face to face with Principal Knox.
“Amelie.” He blinks. He sounds a little sheepish, like he’s worried that I may have just heard his conversation, and he’s fearful of my reaction. As if I’d make a scene without my mother around to embarrass while I’m doing it. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I knocked. No one answered, so I let myself in,” I explain. I sound completely neutral; neither defiant, nor apologetic. Good. I want to keep him guessing about what I’m thinking, how I’m feeling.
“Of course, of course, come in! Make yourself at home. We should see about getting you a key. You can come by more than once a week if you like. The others do.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure I’m welcome on a Sunday, let alone the other days of the week,” I point out, letting him know that I heard exactly what was said about me.
“Don’t worry about that,” he tells me firmly. Then he points to the door behind me. It’s opposite the one he came out of. “Lounge is through there.”
“Thanks,” I mumble and then hastily add, “Sir.”
“Please, outside of school call me Monty.”
I cringe a little, but it’s better than calling him Headmaster or Principal Knox. I think. At least he didn’t say to call him Daddy. Ick.
I wander into the sitting room and have a good nosey around. The room’s empty, so why not? The house is nicer than any I’ve ever stepped foot in before. I’m sure it’s not dead posh, by some standards, but I’m pretty awe-struck. I think our whole house back home could have fit inside this room alone. I hate that. How is it fair that some people work and work and have nothing? While others, like my incubator, sell their pussy for a more luxurious lifestyle? My fingers itch to break shit.
I walk about the room taking in the opulent and sumptuous furnishings. Everything is cream, soft, velvety. I’m almost scared to touch shit in case I leave marks behind, but then I think fuck it, and try to dirty the place up a bit. I leave handprints on the widescreen tv. It’s stupidly big. More than anyone could ever need. Pointless. There are family photos dotted everywhere. The boys. Monty and the boys. Monty and the incubator. Incubator on her own. There’s only one photo, a ginormous thing that hangs over the fireplace, that depicts the ‘whole’ family together. Monty and his mistress beam down on me, while Sawyer smiles tightly. It’s not a genuine smile – not like I experienced on Friday – it doesn’t reach his eyes. Kalen looks miserable and the twins...well, they look about ready to commit murder. Interesting.
Maybe the perfect little Knox family isn’t as perfect as the incubator has been making out. I sorely hope so. I smell dirt; and I love to dig. I won’t stop until I find something I can use to tear this family apart, like the incubator did to me. If it takes me a while to get expelled and sent home, good; it just gives me longer to wreck her life.
Interspersed on all the hard surfaces between the photos, is a myriad of expensive looking cut crystal. Goblets, vases, bowls. I’m just about to reach out and ‘knock’ one over accidentally-on-purpose when the door opens, and the incubator’s voice sharply rings out.
“Amelie? What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” I say sulkily, refusing to look at her.
“Well, dinner’s ready, so come on through to the dining room.” She turns on her heels and leaves, not even waiting for me. Gee, thanks, mother, throw me to the wolves much?
I pause outside of the dining room, nervous to enter. This is it; my identity will be revealed and there’ll be no hiding from anyone. I wonder how Sawyer will react. Will he out me in front of everyone? I wipe my sweaty palms on my black jeans. Then I lift my chin, throw my shoulders back and stroll into the dining room like I own it. Fake it til you make it, right?
“Everyone, this is Amelie,” Monty says, introducing me. “Amelie, these are my sons Kalen, the youngest – who you’ve met – and the twins, Slate and Onyx.”
“We’ve met,” I say darkly as their eyes come to rest on me. I have no qualms with telling daddy dearest about their attack in the study hall. Just not yet. Let them squirm a little.
“Oh! Excellent!” Monty beams, completely misreading my tone. Idiot probably thinks we’re all best buddies. “Well, now that everyone is introduced, would you like to take a seat, Amelie?”
I do, but quickly ask, “I thought you had four sons?”
“Ah yes, well Sawyer – my oldest son – is a little tied up on business today,” Monty clarifies.
“Oh? What does he do?” I play dumb.
“He’s a teacher at the Academy.”
“And he’s working on a Sunday?” I raise an eyebrow disbelievingly. I smell bullshit.
“Didn’t you meet him at your detention yesterday?” Monty frowns.
“Nope,” is all I say with a grin. I reach over and help myself to the food that’s been heaped upon the table, piling my plate high. May as well eat a good meal; the food at school is shit, and eating a small amount won’t allow me to leave any earlier, so I may as well fill up.
“I love a girl with an appetite,” Kalen winks at me.
“May I have a cider please?” I ask looking at the green glass bottles in front of Kalen and the twins.
“No,” the incubator interrupts as Monty says “Sure.”
“She’s not old enough, Monty.”
“Please! I’m eighteen in two days’ time!” I scoff. As if I’ve never had a drink before; I’ve been stealing booze from my uncle’s house since I could tie my own shoelaces – usually to give to my mother.
“So you can enjoy your first drink on Tuesday, with your family,” the incubator replies tartly and the twins snigger. Kalen looks interested to hear it’s my birthday soon. Maybe he has plans to help me celebrate in style.
“Amelie, why didn’t you see Sawyer at your detention?” Monty’s voice is firmer. Ah, so he’s back to playing headmaster now, not friendly step-father. That didn’t last long.
“Because I didn’t go,”
“What?!” Kalen exclaims, looking at me with eyes as wide as saucers.
“Amelie, please explain,” Monty says calmly.
“When I got sent out of Mrs Knox’s class you said…” I begin but I’m sharply cut off by Monty. I also know that the SELF class teacher isn’t called Mrs Knox, but it will piss the incubator off to hear me call her that.
“I know what I said,” he says tightly. I can tell he doesn’t want me to reveal the credit card and our little deal to his new squeeze.
“Mrs Knox?” the incubator hisses. “Does she mean Maggie’s class? Why the hell is she in her class? And why was she sent out?”
I wait for the mother figure to start chewing me out, acting the part of a good parent who actually gives a fuck, but she doesn’t. She’s glaring at Monty, waiting for an answer.
“Maggie is down to teach SELF this term, and all pupils have to take it. I’m sorry, honey, but Maggie is a professional. Amelie will be treated exactly the same as any other pupil.”
“Some professional,” I mutter under my breath, only not quietly enough.
“Shut the fuck up, slut!” one of the twins hisses at me. Maybe Onyx? Didn’t Elsie say he was the more hostile of the two?
“Monty!” Incubator gasps, her hand flying to her chest in mock-horror. “Are you going to allow them to talk to my daughter like that?”
“Absolutely not! Onyx, be quiet.” He glares at his son and suddenly the tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a blunt rusty spoon. “Amelie, I’m sorry about Ms Davis’ outburst the other day. We have had words, and she has been reminded to remain professional at all times. However, your detention wasn’t issued for being sent out of that class, was it?”
“Hang on,” the incubator cries before I can answer. “What the hell did that woman do to my daughter?”
“It was a simple misunderstanding, honey, wasn’t it, Amelie?” Monty turns to me and I feel the weight of the credit card bribe burning a hole in my pocket. I could deny it, and cause trouble, or I can agree and bide my time. I choose option two; I’ve already decided to play the long game.
“It was…” I pause and swallow the bitter words in my mouth, once, twice, before forcing them out with a fake tight smile, “Mother.”
The incubator smiles and relaxes a little at the almost term of endearment that I just used.
“Can we eat now? I’m starving,” Kalen grumbles.
“Hang on. We’ll say grace first. But before that, I need to know why Amelie really missed her detention,” Monty insists. “Amelie? Your detention was for sloppy uniform, was it not?”
“It was, but it was Kalen who gave it to me! I thought he was joking! I didn’t know pupils could give out detentions,” I sulk.
“Not all can. But Kalen is a prefect. All my boys are,” he adds proudly.
“Perks of being the principal’s son,” I grumble.
“Not at all. My boys are model citizens within the Academy, though they haven’t always been, and they’ve worked hard to earn the honour of being prefects.”
That’s total bullshit. From what I’ve seen so far, the twins are a law unto themselves and Kalen does whatever the fuck he likes. And whomever he likes. The twins assaulted me for fuck’s sake!
“I didn’t know,” I say, looking down at my plate and feigning contrition. I have to pick my battles, and right now I need them eating out of the palm of my hand, not spanking it.