5. Nim
Chapter 5
Nim
I’m left alone for about fifteen minutes before my father reappears dressed in a tuxedo, his brown hair slicked back and a different cologne to what he normally wears hitting my nose when he comes to stand beside me in the kitchen.
I haven’t moved from my stool. Somehow, if I stay just like this, I can pretend I’m just here on holiday with my parents. That I stayed with them in the car, and that nothing else happened.
“Are we weirding you out?” Dad asks, going to the fridge and getting himself another beer. I crook an eyebrow at him, but he waves away my concern with a flip of his hand. “I’m not driving there, just back. And there are a lot of coffees lined up for me tonight, trust me.”
“Why are you meeting with the Harts tomorrow?” I ask him.
Dad looks away for a moment as he cracks open his beer, and then turns back to me with a strangely frozen smile on his face. “Your mom and I should have discussed with you a little sooner, but…We were kind of hoping you might be open to enrolling in Cinderhart Academy.”
I blink at him, and then shake my head. “What?”
“Nim, honey, you have no idea how exclusive this university is. Just the fact that we could get you in is…it’s an amazing opportunity.” He comes closer, taking another swig of his beer. “Will you at least keep an open mind about it?”
“But, I don’t want to come here,” I tell him, waving a hand. “I don’t know anyone here.”
“Nothing’s more important than a good education, Nim,” he says, frowning. “And you won’t be alone. You’ll be surrounded by kids your own age.”
I slip off the stool, backing up. “Are you saying we’re going to move here?”
“Oh no, not at all.” Dad shakes his head, grimacing before taking another quick swig of his beer. “No, that’s not what I’m saying, honey. The Academy has full room and board for its students. And the grounds…the activities…Nim, it’s better than anything you can imagine.”
I cross my arms over my chest, anger fizzling deep inside me. “Better than Harvard?”
My dad frowns, still smiling, like he’s caught between two extremes. “Nim…Harvard was never on the table.”
Gees, that was a low blow, Dad.
I get goodish grades, but I know I’m no Einstein. My high school teachers were always telling me to apply myself...which was their way of saying I wasn’t trying hard enough.
Except I already was.
“Nim, I’m not being mean. You understand me, right? Most of the colleges you applied to already rejected?—”
Dad doesn’t finish his sentence, because Mom interrupts us both when she calls out from the grand staircase. “Oscar, sweetheart, can I get a hand?”
“Dad!” I follow him out of the kitchen, irritated and unnerved and freaked out all at once.
I can’t believe this. Does he honestly expect me to attend school in this hick town where I don’t know a single soul? What about my friends? What about my job? What about them?
“Dad, you can’t just?—”
I cut off when I see Mom. One gloved hand on the railing, the other holding up her skirt, she looks up and beams at us when she sees us watching.
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
“Ruth, honey, you look…” Dad trails off, stepping past me and holding out his hand for my mother.
She’s dressed in a sleek black gown, her hair up to expose her swan-like neck. A necklace encrusted with emeralds and diamonds drops elegantly into her cleavage, but even those precious stones can’t compete with her big, glittering green eyes.
“If I hadn’t already married you, I’d do it all over again,” Dad says as he helps her down the last step.
Despite how confused I am, the painful cut on my thigh, and all the other shit I’ve just been through, the pride in Dad’s voice makes my heart swell.
True high school sweethearts.
They look so happy. They’ve been fighting a lot behind closed doors, heaven knows why. I think it has something to do with Dad’s job, but they clam up whenever I ask them. They need this. Their marriage needs this.
But I don’t need Cinderhart, that’s for sure. I guess we’re having a long talk when we get back to the city.
“You look beautiful,” I tell my mom when she looks my way again.
She tugs at the hips of her sleek black dress, twisting a little. “Really?” But just like that, her expression turns serious again. “Are you okay, Nim?” She takes hold of my hand, cradling it in her gloved hands as she gives me a once-over. “You look?—”
“She’s fine,” Dad says hurriedly. He throws me one of his famous, we’ll talk about this later looks.
“Are you sure, honey?” My mom narrows her eyes at me, concern flooding them. “You’d tell us if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”
My lungs clamp up. Gees, where do I even begin?
Screw it. Now they need to know. If I told them their precious Cinderhart was filled with murderers and monsters, they wouldn’t even think about shipping me here.
“Actually—”
“Hey you two lovebirds, we’re going to be late!”
I should have heard Vicky’s heels coming before she did—she’s wearing six-inch stilettos which, on an already tall woman turns her into a supermodel. Her glittering black gown must be Prada or something.
“Relax, we’re ready,” Dad says, threading his arm through Mom’s. “And you look terrific, Vicky.”
“It’s the Louis Vuitton in our closets that we’re known for, not the skeletons,” she says around a toothy smile.
My heart gives a hard bang at the word Vuitton, bringing with it a snapshot of pitch-black hair and a cruel, red slash of a mouth.
Vicky snaps closed a crystal-studded clutch and beams at my parents. “Shall we be on our way, you two rascals?”
“You’re leaving already?” I ask.
“It’s a two-hour drive to the Academy,” Mom says, her voice vibrating with excitement as she grabs hold of my dad’s tuxedo. “Oh, love, I’ve been dying to see the lake.”
“And I’ve been dying to see the pass,” Dad says, bending low to plant a kiss on the tip of my mom’s nose. She shakes her head at him, her golden curls swinging against her back.
They both come to kiss me goodbye while Vicky watches with a cocked, perfectly stenciled eyebrow.I give her a tentative wave, and she gives me a faintly bemused smile as she ushers my parents out of the house.
“Raid the fridge or order anything you want, sweetie,” Vicky says, pointing to the house phone on the kitchen wall. “We have tabs everywhere.”
And with that, they’re gone.
I drag a kitchen stool close and sit down, laying my head in my arms for a moment. I hear the distant sound of a car starting up—probably the pearl-white Bentley I saw parked in the drive when we arrived in our Pontiac—and wait until there’s only silence.
I’m not hungry.
If anything, I’m pissed.
But just as quickly as the anger comes, it fades away. Exhaustion replaces it, and all I can think about is how much better I’ll feel tomorrow morning. Then I can deal with this. All of this.
As I let myself back into my room, I check my phone. Peggy hasn’t sent a message yet, but her shift only just started. I’m sure I’ll still be awake later—once she messages me on a break, I’ll call her. She’s always got the answer to shit like this.
I get into bed, wincing when the bandage around my thigh shifts, pulling at the gauze. I quickly check to make sure my cut isn’t bleeding—I’m sure these are thousand-count Egyptian cotton sheets or something.
My eyes are burning, so I close them. Almost immediately, the hunters in the woods pop up behind my eyelids. The brutal devils taunt me with their perfect sneers. Ghostly echoes of their hands caress my body as I start slipping under.
Remember this. Remember us.
If I hadn’t been so tired, I’d have laughed.
I couldn’t forget them if I tried.