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35
My talk with Finlay answers a lot of questions. I knew — Iknew— there was something more to Rory than everyone was letting on. Rory, who gets away with the cruelest shit all because his daddy owns the school and its surrounding lands. It’s not because he’s the son of the Prime Minister — though that too is no doubt a factor — but he’s old money, land money, his money made from these very lands that connect us all.
I think of the portrait I’d stared at all those months ago, as a new student at Lochkelvin. Rory’s ancestor. The same cold gray eyes. The same fair wavy curl falling across his forehead. I hadn’t noticed it then because I hadn’t expected it, but now everything makes sense.
This school is Rory’s.
He literallyownsthe school.
Aside from this revelation, foremost on my mind is staying at Lochkelvin. If someone as well-placed as Finlay believes attending Lochkelvin can help him change the world, then I tell myself that I have to remain. For my own sake, for my future, I have to stay here.
Although I feel stuck between a rock and a hard place, crawling back home with my tail between my legs edges it.
I don’t want to see my mom again.
To see her as I fail yet again to reach her lofty standards, failing to satisfy my potential, would be another blow.
Lochkelvin, even if it is a fucked-up torture chamber populated by rich assholes and clowns, is my knight in shining armor.
I just wish it had been a better knight with nicer armor.
When Finlay leaves my room, I clear away all the detritus of my breakdown. I’ve eaten so much sugar over the past few days that my skin breaks out in itchy pimples and my stomach feels queasy every time I move. A cockroach is curled up on the floor, so I feed it the remainder of the crumbs, hoping that chocolate isn’t poisonous to insects.
I trash the candy wrappers and air out my bedding, listening to Li rehearsingAll I Want For Christmas Is Youon repeat. She’s not bad but she’s no Mariah. Still, the sound of her attempted whistle tone almost makes me feel sicker than the chocolate. I don’t know if it’s because the whistle tone is pitched so high that it messes with the frequency of the air or because Li can actually kinda sing.
On the last day of entries, I sign up for the talent contest.
It’s not Rory’s blackmail that drives me, though perhaps it’s a subconscious factor. I think of Luke seeing that video, and I honestly can’t imagine anything worse. Who wants to be pitied by a prince?
Instead, it’s my stubbornness that drags my feet over to the sign-up form in the entrance hall. Even at my lowest point, I’ve never missed a talent show. Ignoring the disaster of my last show, dancing on stage is where I’ve had some of my happiest moments. And maybe I’m an addict craving a hit of dopamine in this gray world, but dammit, I think I deservesomehappiness.
“Seriously?” Li’s voice is thick with disgust as she watches me print my name. “What the hell talent haveyougot?”
The girls have had their eyes on the sign-up sheet all the time it’s been up. Only Li has signed up for it, but Becca and Arabella seem determined not to let anyone else have the chance.
The ability to be underestimated, I think wryly to myself.
Instead, I say, “I’ll be singing Mariah Carey,” and swan past Li’s astonished face into the dining hall.
I hear her curse after me, threatening all sorts. Even sitting with Danny at dinner, I don’t escape it.
At one point, Arabella comes to sit next to me. She puts on a friendly smile that looks squint from disuse.
“Jessa, we were wondering what you’re actually planning for the talent show? Maybe we could compare notes?”
“That’d be a first for you.” I say it mildly but Arabella reels back as though I slapped her.
“Well, really! I only wanted to help!”
“In which case, I’m planning a special poetry recital. All twelve books ofParadise Lost.”
It’s difficult to keep a straight face when Arabella genuinely seems to believe everything that comes out of my mouth. I think I’ve been hanging around with Finlay too much, now that I’ve picked up the art of sarcasm.
Her eyes flick back to the girls, lost, but then Arabella leans toward me. “There’ll be reporters here. There’ll be agents coming up from London to scout the best talent.Don’tmake my aunt look bad.”
When she leaves, Danny looks thoughtful. “It’s never been my scene but I’ve always thought about doing a magic act.” Danny waves his fingers, a silver coin appearing between them.
I grin at this unexpected talent. “Do it.”
