Chapter Three Julia #2
So shocking, the sarcastic voice in my head quipped. He was tall and funny and girls always liked him. Liam was naturally comfortable in his own skin and good at everything—the cool twin—whereas I was in my own head and rambled too much, aka the uncool twin.
The first thing I noticed when we walked through the main doors was that it smelled so good. It didn’t smell like industrial cleaner or school lunches, which was public school’s scent potpourri, but instead smelled like… lilies?
It smelled like freaking lilies and maybe old books (?) but in a good way.
I followed Liam toward the office, walking atop dark, shiny wood floors, but as I glanced around, I was distracted by the lighting.
The lighting.
Chandeliers, sconces, lamps—the place was lit like an exclusive hotel, not a school.
I half expected to see a lounge somewhere off in a corner where students were sipping on martinis.
Instead my eyes landed on three uniformed girls (who looked like models) sitting on a sofa, talking quietly while holding delicate china mugs, and two blazered guys (who also looked like models) on wingback chairs, laughing as they listened.
And holy shit—it smelled like lilies because of the actual lilies sitting on the table between the wingback chairs.
How was this a high school?
I followed Liam into the office—more floral arrangements, dear Lord—where the woman behind the desk smiled, thrilled to see us.
“The Lowells—of course,” she said, grinning and nodding. “So nice to meet you. Headmaster Green has been waiting for you, so go ahead back to his office.”
She gestured toward a thick wood door on the other side of her desk. Liam shot me a glance and we walked in the direction where she’d pointed, pausing to knock at the headmaster’s door.
Headmaster. So, so strange.
“Enter,” we heard someone say, so Liam grabbed the doorknob and pushed open the door.
“Miss Lowell, Mr. Lowell,” the man behind the desk said, standing and coming around to greet us. “How lovely to meet you. I’m Headmaster Green.”
Headmaster Green was not at all what I would’ve expected. Instead of a scowling white-haired man with demerits to distribute and maybe flowing robes, this guy looked nice. He was probably in his fifties, his smile warm, and he was wearing a thick wool sweater with perfectly tailored pants.
“Nice to meet you,” I mumbled nervously as my brother reached out and shook the guy’s hand.
“Welcome to Gardenwood Academy.”
“Thanks,” Liam said in that comfortable way he had with everyone he met, like he knew exactly how they’d want him to respond. “Great to be here.”
“Is your family all moved in?” the man asked, his eyes dipping down to Liam’s loosely tied tie.
“Not at all,” Liam said, and I just smiled and nodded beside him as he added, “But we were able to find our notebooks and pencils, so we’re all good for school.”
“Wonderful,” Headmaster Green said, and then he reached out a hand and started fixing Liam’s tie. “Speaking of school, why don’t you two have a seat? Since we have a few minutes, I just thought we’d go over a couple things before I send you on your way.”
“Thanks,” Liam said with a grin as Green stepped back, and Liam looked down at his now perfectly tied tie. “Nice work.”
“Always here to help,” the man said as he went around the desk and sat in his chair.
Of course they’d already bonded.
Liam plopped down in one of the two guest chairs, so I lowered myself to the other, wondering how I was going to make it through the day when my stomach was so full of nervous butterflies.
“Miss Lowell,” the headmaster said, his wise, owl-like gaze on me behind his thick black glasses. “You’re quiet. Are you nervous about your first day?”
“Yeah,” I said, then quickly corrected myself with “Yes, sir.”
“First of all, call me Mr. Green, or even Seth if that makes you more comfortable. Second of all, try not to be too anxious. We have a wonderful student body who I think will make you feel quite at home.”
“Oh. Good. Okay,” I said, picturing Mr. Mets Hat scowling at me like I was a raccoon in a dumpster after I broke his nose. Pretty much any human would make me feel more welcome than that guy, the only person I’d met since we moved.
“After speaking with your parents and the administrators at your previous school, we have carefully curated your schedules for this semester.”
“Excellent,” my brother said, as if this were something he had been concerned about.
I wanted to roll my eyes.
“Yeah, great,” I said, the mention of my schedule making my stomach ache even more.
“We do need to have a quick touch-base about your math scores,” he said, eyeballing me with a seriousness that hadn’t been there when he was talking to my brother.
“We do?” I said, my stomach dropping even lower.
“You see, Miss Lowell,” he said, crossing his legs and leaning back a little in his high-backed chair, “Gardenwood Academy has a reputation for excellence that we take quite seriously. We hold our students to the highest of standards. Each year there are hundreds of applicants we would love to admit, but simply cannot because they don’t meet those standards. ”
“Okay,” I said, not sure where this was headed, but I knew it wasn’t good.
“We’re always happy to work with alumni families and those of generous donors, and we pride ourselves on our ability to foster student improvement. But ultimately, the scores do matter and must reach a certain level in order for a student to remain enrolled at the academy.”
“Okay, spell it out for us, Seth,” my brother said, glancing over at me like he knew I was never going to work up the courage to actually ask what the headmaster was getting at.
“What does she need to do, or how off are her scores? I feel like you’re trying to lay something down for us that we’re missing. ”
I wondered if my mom knew about this score issue, because she’d had a meeting with administration the day after we’d moved in. And were we the family of “generous donors”? Had my parents donated money to the school in order to get us in?
“Do I have your permission to discuss this with you and your brother collectively,” the headmaster asked me, “or would you prefer I dismiss him and we can talk privately?”
It was so bizarre, the way he was talking to us like we were adults. In the world we’d come from, teachers and administrators talked to students like they were kids. This man, however, was talking to us like we were business associates.
Something about it was kind of cool, but it also felt… weird.
“No, it’s fine,” I said, knowing it’d be better to hear it with Liam in the room.
“Your test scores in mathematics fall rather significantly below our standards,” he said.
He quickly held up a hand as if to say don’t talk. “Which is okay. We have some of the world’s best educators here at Gardenwood, as well as a host of tutors who will absolutely work with you to get those scores raised.”
“Okay, well—”
“That being said,” he continued, “I think the best course of action is to schedule a tutor immediately, because we need to get these scores turned around and rectified as soon as possible. We have no time to waste, unfortunately.”
My cheeks got hot and I felt embarrassed in the way I always did when it came to math. I considered myself to be a relatively intelligent person, and I did fine in all my other classes, but when it came to math, especially algebra, it was like trying to translate another language.