28. Hayley

28

HAYLEY

I get dressed quickly, putting on the uniform that’s supposed to make me look like everyone else. Like I belong here. Like I’m not carrying around all these secrets.

The meeting is in less than five minutes. I check myself in the mirror. It’s not the worst I’ve ever looked, but it will have to do.

I walk into the headmaster’s office with my mother at my side, trying to ignore the thick smell of polished wood and expensive cologne. There’s a chair waiting for me, but I don’t sit. Not yet.

“Hayley,” the headmaster says, his voice stern but measured. He’s a man who’s seen too many students like me, who’s tired of their shit. “We’ve had some concerns. About your behavior. Your”—he clears his throat—“your recent actions.”

I stand there for a moment, letting his words hang in the air, and then I speak. “I don’t think you understand, sir,” I say, my voice smooth, like I’m putting on a mask. “My actions? My friend just died. ”

“Yes, and I’m sorry about Miss Lowry. But we attempted to schedule this meeting three times before?—”

“My mother is very busy.”

The room goes silent for a moment. I can feel the headmaster’s eyes on me, his curiosity piqued. “Well, she’s here now.”

“Right,” I say, crossing my arms. “Obviously. But you see, after my father’s death...it’s been hard for her. Harder than anyone realizes. She thinks sending me here is some kind of solution. But it’s not. She’s just avoiding facing the truth. She doesn’t want to be reminded of him.” I let the words sink in, careful with every one. “Which is why I think it would be in everyone’s best interest if I were sent home. Where I can be with her. Where she can stop pretending everything’s fine.”

The headmaster looks at me, his eyes narrowing. He’s not sure what to say. My mother shifts beside me, her gaze darting nervously between me and the headmaster. She’s still grieving. She’s still stuck in the past. But it’s not her I’m worried about now. It’s the headmaster. He’s the one I have to manipulate. He’s the one who has to officially kick me out of this place.

“It’s not healthy, you know,” I continue. “Keeping me here like this. I don’t belong here. I haven’t for a long time. It’s not fair to you, Headmaster, and it’s not fair to me. You don’t want a student who’s being torn apart inside. Believe me, I’ll just make things worse.”

My words hang in the air for a second, and then I watch as the headmaster’s eyes soften. He’s seeing what I want him to see. A troubled student. A broken family. A situation that’s too complicated for this place.

He leans back in his chair. “I see,” he says slowly. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps we need to reconsider your situation here.”

I start to cry, real, proper tears, as the satisfaction bubbles up in my chest. I’ve won.

“Mrs. Jones—Charlotte—I think Hayley is right. I think it’s best for all involved if other arrangements are made for your daughter’s education.”

I choke out a sob then, grateful for the way he talks about me in third person, like I’m not even here. It tells me that soon I won’t be. I look over at Mom, who is livid. Absolutely livid. But what is she going to say? She can’t make them keep me.

That doesn’t stop her from trying. “What if I paid double the tuition—I’m sure the additional funds could really help out around here, no?”

He rubs at the stubble on his chin. “Perhaps something could be arranged.”

I realize I have to act and fast. “I’ll kill myself,” I say. “Just like Hannah—her parents—they didn’t listen either, did they? And now it’s a stain on your reputation.” The tears fall faster. “Maybe if I can’t be in Texas, maybe I just want to be in heaven with her.”

“We live in New York now,” Mom says. “It’s not hell, but?—”

The headmaster looks defeated. He looks like he really wanted that extra money, but that some part of him, the intelligent part, knows it’s not worth it. “I think Hayley is right, Mrs. Jones. I think she needs more than we can give her here, at this time.”

“I see,” Mom says. “My daughter can be quite a handful.”

She grabs a tissue from the desk and tosses it in my direction.

I blow my nose, and I mean really let everything out. All eyes are on me, and when I’m finished I say, “I get that from my father.”

“Well.” Mom stands and brushes her dress. “I guess that’s that.”

“We’re sorry to see you go, Hayley,” the headmaster says.

We all know he’s lying, but no one says it. Instead, it’s all tight smiles and stiff handshakes. And then, as I leave the office, walking out into the cold London air with Mom at my heel, I feel that same knot of anxiety in my stomach. There’s something I’m missing. Something bigger than me, and I’m too close to it now. Too close to whatever game I’m being pulled into.

But for now, I’m free. For now, I’ve won.