Private (Private 1)
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K A T E B R I A N
P R I V A T E
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between the arms of her chair that it seemed she was permanently sounded more like a threat. There was a pause. I had the feeling I bound there. If the musky/oniony smell in the air was any indica-was supposed to say something. So I said, “Okay.”
tion, it was quite possible that she never actually left the room.
Her eyes narrowed. “Your schedule.”
And that whatever she last ate within its four walls was seriously She whipped out a thin sheet of paper and held it out over the
rank.
little bronze nameplate on the edge of her desk, advertising her
“The academic programs at Easton are extremely advanced.
position as guidance director. As far as I could tell, all she was try-Most of the students in your year are taking courses that would be ing to do was guide me, crying in submission, to the nearest airport.
considered senior level by your old high school’s curriculum stan-I took the paper and scanned it, taking in words like “Art
dards,” Ms. Naylor continued, looking down her nose at what I
History,” “Bonus Lab,” and “French 3.” How in God’s name had I
assumed were my Croton High records. “You’ll need to do a lot of placed into French 3?
extra work to keep up. Are you up to the task?”
“Thank you,” I said. I was pleased to hear that my voice was not
“Yeah. I hope so,” I said.
trembling in concert with my insides.
She looked at me like she was confused. What did she expect me
“And, the honor code.”
to say? “No”?
She handed me another piece of paper, this one thicker, more
“I see you’re here on partial scholarship. That’s good,” Ms.
substantial, than the first. At the top corner was the Easton crest Naylor says. “Most of our scholarship students have a certain fire in and the words “Easton Academy Code of Honor for Students.”
their bellies that seems to inspire them to attain their goals.”
Beneath that, “Tradition, Honor, Excellence.”
Ms. Naylor closed her folder and leaned toward me across her
“Read it over and sign it,” Ms. Naylor said.