I chuckled under my breath before shrugging.
“You’re so defiant. You’re failing your classes on purpose, aren’t you? Another one of your attempts to gain control like Ms. Glenburg had pointed out.”
Whatever. I wanted to stew in silence, annoyed that they’d somehow made sense of my behavior that even I hadn’t realized, but I didn’t have time for all of that. They could take their Freud bullshit and do with it as they pleased.
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck to ease the tension. “I think I have just the plan that can knock out each of those things.”
He raised an eyebrow, wafting his hand out for me to continue.
“What do you know about the new girl?” I asked as my cheek lifted.
His face faltered. “No.” The word was like a bullet being fired.
“You haven’t even heard my plan.”
He snickered. “I’m certain that whatever it is, the answer is still no.”
I propped my leg back onto his desk, ignoring the way it made him scowl. “Hear me out. Good Girl can be my tutor. You said I was on probation, right?” I didn’t give him a chance to confirm. “I’m assuming they’re going to be paying close attention to my grades along with my behavior. I’ll get my grades up with my ‘tutor’,”—I used air quotes around the simple term—“and she can also be a damn good cover. An alibi.” My leg fell to the ground as I sat up taller, feeling the smallest amount of desperation kick in. “You can write a note that she and I have permission to use the library after lacrosse practice, which gives me a pretty good excuse to be out of my room and roaming the halls after curfew, and on the nights that the SMC is suspicious of or doesn’t believe my bullshit, Gemma can lie and tell them that I was with her, studying. They would never suspect a girl like her to cover for a guy like me. She’s too...good.”
He gave me an incredulous look, but he didn’t say no. “And you just expect her to lie for you? You are right. She is a good kid. She’s timid, and sweet, and I'm assuming she’s honest as well. What if she doesn’t lie for you, Isaiah? What if she tells them straight up that you were not with her?”
My desperation, along with the anger that my father had instilled after our conversation, was beginning to rise to high levels. “Then I’ll fucking convince her! Do you have a better idea, Uncle Tate?” I took a deep breath before cursing under my breath. “I didn’t care much about what Dad had to say when he sent me here. Fuck him. But he threatened to send Jack to the Covens. Jack!” My voice grew louder. “He’s fucking nine years old.”
Another round of silence fell upon us, hushing my loud outburst. My chest was heaving, and for the first time in a while, I lost my control in front of another person. I felt a little unhinged.
My uncle didn’t say anything. Instead, he brought his finger and thumb up to his nose and punched the bridge of it. Then, he moved to his temples and began massaging them. I needed to do the same because my head began to pound the moment I brought up my little brother.
After a few more seconds of silence, I leaned my elbows down on my black jeans. “Do you have a better idea?” My chest ached, the muscles along my neck tensing. “I know it’s my fault the committee isn’t happy with me—that’s on me. But you’re right. Half the time, the reason I get caught doing shit I shouldn’t is because of Bain. He somehow twists shit, and
he never gets caught sneaking back in after going in fucking circles. He always manages to sneak away without getting into any trouble at all.”
“That’s because Bain has been taught all his life to evade authority. His father has been grooming him from a young age.”
I often forgot that my uncle was once in the same position I was in. That he was once a part of the family business, and he likely knew more than me.
“So was I,” I answered, flicking my eyes to him.
He gave me a grin. “You’re right, but there’s a difference between you and Bain, Isaiah. You don’t want to please your father like he does. And also, you’re not the bad kid that everyone thinks you are.”
I joked. “The committee says otherwise.”
Another stretch of silence passed as he thought for a moment. His eyes wandered all over his office as he had an internal battle with himself. Then, he shook his head. “I suppose you can carry on with your plan…but don’t break that poor girl's heart. She’s...fragile. She can be your tutor.” He glanced away as he mumbled under his breath, “It would probably do her good to make some more friends around here.” After a moment, he locked back onto me. “She can lie for you on occasion, if she’s up for that, but do not force her into anything she doesn't want. Every girl at this school seems to be wrapped around your finger. Don’t mess with Gemma.”
My lips ached to give him a cocky grin, but instead, I stood up from the chair and began walking toward his office door. “Don’t worry, Uncle Tate. I won’t corrupt the good girl.”
I was certain he mumbled, “Yeah fucking right,” under his breath, but I couldn’t be sure.
Chapter Fourteen
Gemma
“And this is where we usually hang out on the weekends before curfew…” Sloane’s voice trailed as she plopped herself down onto a couch with a ridiculous number of frilly pillows scattered on top. Her small frame was nearly invisible as the cushions swallowed her up.
Glancing around the dimly lit room, I found a few standing lamps and some candles resting along a high bookshelf, their flame flickering back and forth. The room was dark but comforting. I could totally see myself getting lost while sketching in here.
“Come sit with us,” Mercedes said as she pulled a book from the shelf across the room. “What did the headmaster want?”
Slowly sitting down on the floor over a multicolored woven rug, I crossed my legs and rested my back against the couch Sloane was lying lazily on. There were a few other groups of students in the…lounge?...but they all went back into their own conversations after scanning me from head to toe.