My name sounds as unwelcome as I feel. My eyes drop to the floor. “Hello.”
Josh stands partially in front of me, shielding me. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mom.”
“You will be.”
Nate steps in. “I’m glad you guys made it home safely. Isla—”
“We have an appointment early tomorrow morning with the head of school,” Mrs. Wasserstein says.
A catch in my throat. “All of us?”
“No.” She frowns. “My son and I.”
My face burns with the shame of being put in my place.
“Isla,” Nate says, “your appointment is on Tuesday. Why don’t—”
“Thank you for your help,” Mrs. Wasserstein says to him. “I understand that my son has been making your job difficult. I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you like this.”
I get the sense that she’s been making his job difficult, but Nate only rubs his shaved head. “It’s what I do. And it’s okay, he’s a good kid.”
She clearly doesn’t believe him. Maybe she would if she knew Mike and Dave. She gives him a brusque nod before turning back to Josh. “We’re leaving.”
His eyes widen. “Where are we going?”
“Your room. We have much to discuss, young man.” She holds open the door and nods again, her farewell to me. “Isla.”
My ribcage is compressing my heart into a tiny, painful stone. As he’s led away, Josh squeezes my hand with the same unbearable force. Our hands let go only when they can no longer reach. There’s a final exchange of anguished expressions, and he’s gone. I’m rigid with silence. Nate sighs.
“We’re in a lot of trouble, aren’t we?” I finally manage.
“You’ll be all right.”
“Will Josh?”
Nate gives me a sad look.
Another horrible thought occurs to me. “Are my parents coming? Is that why my appointment isn’t until Tuesday?”
“No. Your appointment is on Tuesday, because tomorrow is a holiday. Remember?”
Tomorrow is the first of November. All Saint’s Day. It’s a national holiday in France, which means that…the head of school is coming in on her day off to speak with Josh.
It’s understood that Josh and I won’t be seeing each other until after his appointment. But that doesn’t stop me from checking my phone for texts every sixty seconds.
I hate my sister. Hate. Her.
If it wasn’t for Hattie, I’d be in Josh’s room right now – and his mother would not – and we’d be planning our Swiss rendezvous. My phone blips. I lunge for it, but the text is from Kurt: Train timetable says you should have arrived 3 hrs ago.
I reply: We did.
Are you ok?
NO.
A minute later, he knocks on my door. “Why don’t you just push it open, like you always do?” I shout.
Kurt does. “You sound angry.”
“I am.”
“Are you angry with me?”
“Yes.”
He wedges a textbook underneath my door. “I had to, Isla. They asked me.”
“What did Hattie even want?”
“She wanted to borrow your hair dryer.”
“My hair dryer?”
“Yeah. The…diffuser? Is that the thing you put on the end? She wanted to try to curl her hair.”
“And she couldn’t borrow one from somebody in her own stupid dorm?”
His left eye twitches. “I don’t know.”
A hair diffuser. I can’t believe this entire situation was caused by a freaking hair diffuser. A pirate and a devil stroll past my open door, heading towards the lobby for Résidence Lambert’s annual Halloween party. It’s unfathomable to me that anyone would be in the mood for a celebration.
“Why – for once in your life – couldn’t you just lie? That’s all you had to do.”
Kurt pulls up his hoodie. “They asked me a question. I gave them the answer.”
“Yeah, well? Thanks to you? My boyfriend is about to be kicked out of school.”
“That’s not my fault. I didn’t do that. He did that.”
I don’t care that he’s speaking the truth. I don’t care that it’s our fault. It still wouldn’t be happening if Kurt could’ve kept his mouth shut. He’s supposed to be my best friend. I yank out the textbook and hold open the door even wider. “Go. Away.”
He flaps his hands, upset. “Isla.”
I close my eyes. “I can’t deal with you right now. Just go.”
He’s still there. I sense the movement of his hands. I squeeze my eyes tighter, so tight that it hurts, until I feel him brush past me. The stairwell door clangs open.
“Boo!” a male voice says.
My eyes pop open. Someone in a Scream mask is two inches away from my nose. There’s laughter down the hall as I slam my door shut in the jerk’s face. I collapse into bed. I’m crying again. Maybe Mrs. Wasserstein is here to keep Josh from getting expelled. She’s a powerful woman. I’ll bet even the head of school is scared of her.
I’m scared of her.
She probably blames me for all of this. I wanted to make a good first impression on Josh’s parents. I didn’t know if they’d like me – if they’d think I was exceptional enough for their son – but now I don’t stand a chance. I don’t even know if they were aware of my existence before yesterday.
Josh still hasn’t texted. I’m afraid his mom might be monitoring his phone, so I only text him once more. I keep it short and non-incriminating: I love you.
A few minutes later, there’s a rapid-fire knocking. I spring from my bed and throw open the door. But it’s Hattie. The sight of her fills me with a scarlet rage. She’s wearing an oversize Hawaiian shirt that’s been buttoned up wrong. Her hair is ratted out in every direction. She has dark under-eye circles, fake bruises, and a pencil-thin moustache.
“What are you supposed to be?” I ask, as calmly as possible. Which isn’t calm at all.
She holds up a piece of cardboard. It’s been painted white, and it has black lines labelled with inches and feet. “I’m a mugshot.”
“Practising for your future?”
“Oui.” She just stands there.
“What? What do you want, Hattie?”
“I wanna apologize, jeez.”
I wait.
She waits.
“Was that it?” I ask. “That was your apology?”