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“Yes,” I replied. I didn’t miss that he had completely segued past my question and answered with another question. I licked my lips, trying to search his face for answers, but his stoic expression remained a mask of mystery.
“You’re going to enter an intensive program, similar to your experience in your AP classes in high school, where the curriculum is taught in a much shorter time span. You’ll also take part in a foreign exchange program where you will finish the rest of your coursework in Rome, Italy. You will live with a family native to the region, with the hope that you will become fluent in Italian,” he continued.
I blinked, trying to make heads or tails of what he was saying. It seemed too good to be true. I’d never been overseas before. My family couldn’t afford it. I knew what something like that would cost because I’d looked into it when I’d arrived, but my scholarship didn’t cover foreign exchange programs.
I’d given up hope long ago. There was no way I could cover overseas room and board, not to mention the exorbitant cost of airfare these days, especially international flights.
“I don’t have the money for that,” I said quietly, the disappointment clear in my voice.
“The university would cover that. Taking part in the program will cost you nothing,” he explained. He was smirking at me, like he was telling me something that I should be happy about, but there was something off about it.
For starters, I wasn’t happy about the idea. I didn’t even like California, and I was already on a full ride because in high school my extracurricular list had been insane. I was one of those people that could be president of like, every club.
That being said, it was Rome, so perhaps I should leave my comfort zone and jump on this opportunity. But… something still didn’t seem quite right.
“I’ll have to talk this through with my parents before I make a decision about this,” I answered, saying something, really anything, to delay this conversation so I could figure out what was really going on.
“That won’t be necessary. Your parents have already given their blessing,” he announced, his voice short and clipped.
“You talked to them before coming to me,” I replied, a bit in disbelief. I was nineteen, and last I checked, I had become an adult at eighteen. Talking to my parents was a courtesy, not a requirement. It was unbelievable that he would have the gall to talk to them over my head.
Not to mention that my parents were too old to think beyond words like, ‘free’ and ‘an honor’ and ‘good on her future resume’. They’d been in their forties when they’d adopted my sister and I, and now they were old and ready to sit on a beach somewhere.
He breathed in deep and let out a sigh before his jawline tensed and he met my gaze with a cocky sort of detached coldness.
My spidey senses started tingling. I didn’t like this. There was something not… okay about it.
“We searched your room this morning,” he said simply. He didn’t say anything more, but he didn’t need to. He’d said enough.
“What do you mean?” I asked nervously, my heart sinking. If they had been thorough in their search, they would have found all kinds of paraphernalia, from my prized collection of disposable vapes and my five-foot bong (that was hard to miss), to a few handles of vodka, tequila, you name it. Probably more than enough to get my ass expelled, or worse, arrested by the cops.
“I already made one call to your parents this morning to inform them of your acceptance into such a prestigious program here at our university. I can certainly make another to update them that you’ve sadly been expelled from this institution for possession of illegal substances,” he threatened.
Holy fuck. Was thisblackmail? I was most definitely getting blackmailed.
“I don’t know what you found, but it isn’t mine,” I tried. It sounded lamer out loud than it had it my head. At least part of that was true. Some of it belonged to my floormate Christina, the very same girl that my sister had accused of smelling like oatmeal, but I was sure that she just grew up in a drug house.
“I don’t want to hear any excuses, Kaci,” he chided, his words wrapping around me like a little girl who just gotten scolded by her daddy. Immediately, my anger fizzled out as I ran through my options in my head, not that they really were options at all.
I could tell Caelum to go fuck himself, but I didn’t want to get expelled. Room searches were exceedingly rare here, and really only instigated by extenuating circumstances like if the police had somehow gotten involved or someone had gotten hurt. Just last year, a student leapt off the third-floor balcony in a drunken stupor. He survived, the absolute dumbass, but he mangled up his leg really badly. I didn’t know how he was doing, only that he didn’t go here anymore, but I heard that they’d found harder stuff other than just alcohol hidden in his room.
The only other choice was to go along willingly with whatever blackmail this was and figure out why I had been singled out in the first place. This seemed well beyond just getting a few thousand dollars extra for the student council.
Sure, I’d be getting ridiculously valuable experience in my educational career, bringing me much closer to my goal of working as an Italian translator for the government, or for businesses working on expanding into international waters or vice versa. Other than the suspicious coercion, it was an incredible opportunity, and I should be thankful for the chance.
Honestly. It wasn’t really much of a choice. There was only one thing for me to do.
“When do I leave? I’d like to plan a trip home to say goodbye to my family,” I mentioned, trying to keep my voice level even when my insides were screaming at me to run. Maybe I could plan an escape when I was back home, or at least tell my sister what sort of crazy hairbrained scheme this was just so she could commiserate with me.
“Now. There’s a car waiting for you outside. Your things are in the process of being packed up and will arrive tomorrow. For tonight, you will be provided with clothing, food, toiletries, whatever you need,” he answered.
I opened and closed my mouth, trying to figure out what his game was, but it was like trying to look out of a windshield in the pouring rain when your wipers were broken; completely useless.
Okay, this was really fucking weird. This had never been optional. I’d been chosen for whatever the fuck balls reason, and now I was going to be shipped off clean across the country whether I liked it or not.
“Why me?” I asked.
The president just stared at me with those icy blue eyes, endless pools of dark mystery that left me with more questions than answers.
