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Chapter 25
Astrid
Monday morning, I cut my first-period class and head over to Foxworth House to see Dr. Rawlins. Same setup as last time, except the lady behind the desk doesn’t shoot me the evil eye as she sips from her coffee mug. This time she doesn’t make me wait long either, and I’m ushered into Dr. Rawlins’ office. Today, my borrowed clothing must make me fit in. My cut-up skirt is back in the dorm room after Charlotte stopped me before leaving the dorm and suggested I get a new one. In the meantime, she loaned me hers to wear, plus a navy cashmere pullover. Stonehaven doesn’t follow trends or wear labels. Now I can pick out the super-rich girls by their accessories and manicures.
I study my ragged cuticles while I sit in front of Dr. Rawlins’ desk as she scrolls through her computer. Her nails look like pristine glass shells in a peachy color. Simple-looking, but I know her nails must cost a lot because they’re on her.
“It looks like you’re missing your global history class,” she says, pushing the monitor away, so she can see me slump down in the wingback chair. “It must be important to miss class.”
I sit up straight. “I want to talk to my mother, but I can’t because she’s in…rehab.” I look away from her steady gaze, knowing what she must be thinking—another poor kid with an addict for a mother. “My mom was in an accident at work,” I add quickly, “She hurt her back and can’t get off the painkillers. Prescription painkillers.” My voice trails off as I look down at my torn fingernail.
“Yes, I know,” Dr. Rawlins states softly, and I meet her gaze again. She has a look on her face that I want to say is compassion. I hope it’s compassion because pity pisses me off.
Dr. Rawlins continues, “What I didn’t know is that you haven’t been in touch with her.”
“They won’t let her use a cell phone,” I explain, leaving out the reason why.
“Yes, the staff is strict on cell phone usage.” Dr. Rawlins presses a button on her desk phone. “Alice, Ms. Bowen will need a late pass for class.”
“Yes, Dr. Rawlins.”
She lifts her finger and then picks up her desk phone with a graceful turn of her wrist, and then dials an outside line. “Yes. This is Dr. Rawlins at Stonehaven. We have a student whose mother is staying at your facility. My student hasn’t talked to her mother in almost three weeks.”
By the time Dr. Rawlins hangs up, she has a number to call. She hands me a Post-it note with the Stonehaven logo printed across the top and the name and number of the person I need to call to speak to my mother.
“Unless she’s otherwise engaged, you may call her any time to talk.”
I tuck the Post-it in my purse. “Thank you, Dr. Rawlins. I’m sorry that I cut class, but I was getting worried.”
Her mouth softens into a slight grin but not quite a smile. “They should’ve contacted you when she was admitted. Do the other students know that your mother is seeking treatment?”
I think for a second, but only Charlotte knows…I shake my head.
“Good,” she replies, tilting the monitor toward her again. “I would recommend keeping your personal concerns private in this circumstance.”
I back away toward the door. “I will. Thanks.”
With a raised eyebrow, Dr. Rawlins’ gaze appraises me from head to toe as if she’s trying to resolve something in her thoughts. “My door is always open.” She looks at her computer again. “Please shut it when you leave.”
***
By third period, the freakin’ skirt is itching my legs. I squirm around my seat like a hot lava rock, and the minute I’m alone, I’m lifting up the hem and scratching until I bleed. I notice that some of the girls wear tights, but I’m not into looking like I’m on my way to church. Maybe bike shorts? I can rock that.
I skip lunch at the dining hall to hurry back to the dorm and find a pair of shorts. Huffing up the front steps, I run smack-bang into Charlotte, who’s leaving. So, now I know she’s okay, but I’m in a hurry. I mutter, “Sorry,” but she grabs me by the arm and pulls me toward the basement door. WTF? I almost fall and crack my ass on the concrete steps.
“Where are we going?” I yank my sleeve out of her grip. “This skirt you loaned me. Did you do something to it?”
Standing in front of the outside door, she levels her cool glare at me before walking through the door. “Other than have it washed with soap?” She opens the secret door inside, and I follow her in. “We have to talk,” she continues, “and we have to do it in private.”
I knew it was too good to last. These kids might not need money, but they always want something.
I press my lips together and just glare at her. Charlotte flips her long blonde hair like a cape and returns the dirty look threefold.
“I’ve been listening to the gossip. You need to stop meeting up with Bryce, and especially Pierce,” she demands, “And Justin is weird despite being able to paint.”
I scoff. “This is bullshit. You dragged me down here to play mean girl. Fuck you. I mean, thank you for helping me last night, but I’m not one of your followers, so now please go fuck off so you have something else to do besides telling me what to do.”
Charlotte scoffs and raises her hands up as if she’s going mad. “Why do I bother helping you?”
