"Well, then, I expect you'll have a real social life, get invited to parties and everything pretty soon," he said.

It was on the tip of my tongue to say I already had been invited to a party here, but I thought that would be a betrayal of Ami and her wishes; Wade might question her restriction, and she might think I had gone complaining to him about it.

"I guess," I said.

Mrs. McAlister entered with my eggs. Once again she practically stood over me while I began to eat. I was afraid to reach for the pepper and salt, even though it needed some.

"Thank you," I told her between bites. "It's just the way I like them."

"It's the way Mr. Emerson himself likes them," she replied, as if that was the gold standard. She nodded at Wade and returned to the kitchen.

Immediately I reached for the salt. Wade watched me with a sly smile. I didn't hear any vacuum cleaner or any other noises in the house and wondered where Mrs. Cukor was. Once again I thought about describing my confrontation with her after dinner, but once again I felt it wasn't my place to start any trouble in this house.

Instead, I talked more about the school, my impression of the teachers, most of whom did impress me, and the nice facilities. He asked me more about my public school experience and listened like someone really interested in young people today.

Later, in the car and on the way to school, Wade continued to tell me about his own youth and how his true secret ambition was to be a college English professor.

"Like you, I read a great deal," he said, "and even tried to be a professional writer. My mother encouraged me, but my father thought I was wasting money on postage, sending my short stories and poems out to magazines. He might have been right;.I never published anything anywhere except the school literary magazine and newspaper, and of course Dad always degraded teachers and the teaching profession because of their poor salaries. He would boast that he made more in one month as a plumber than my high school English teacher made in six. I think that was true, but to convince him that there were other considerations in choosing your career was a waste of time.

"When you do start writing for the school paper, I'd like to see it, if that's all right," he added.

"Of course, although I don't make any claims to be anything special."

He turned and smiled at me.

"But you are special, Celeste. You don't have to make any claims. I can see it already."

I don't know how many moments I had already enjoyed in my life where I would blush at a compliment tossed my way, but I knew my face was on fire. It brought a laugh to his lips and brightened his hazel eyes so that they looked more like polished stones under clear brook water.

"Have another great day," he told me when we reached the school. "Oh." He took out a business card and handed it to me. "In the event our Ami doesn't get here in time or completely forgets to pick you up, call the cell phone number on this card and I'll come get you."

"Thank you," I said, and headed for the school's front entrance.

Feeling his eyes still on me, I turned once to wave good-bye. He nodded and drove off, but his face was framed in such melancholy, it made me sad for a moment.

Everyone I meet outside of the orphanage seems covered in layers and layers of mystery, I thought. Children were naked, their fears and hopes obvious for anyone to see, especially orphan children who were alone, cast on the water like leaves no longer tied to the branches of any tree, unable to remember the tree from which they had fallen.

Both Wade and Ami had families, had heritage, had a foundation under them, a foundation from which they could grow, but inside their world there were so many unheard voices, too. How ironic, I thought. They had one disadvantage we didn't. From the day they could understand, talk, and walk, they were under pressure to please their parents. No matter how much Wade disagreed with his father, I could sense that he still wanted, craved, his father's approval. Why else would he have trapped himself in his father's business?

What sort of approval was Ami seeking, and from whom? I wondered.

How could it be that having a real family was any sort of disadvantage? How foolish it was for me to even think it.

And yet I remembered too well how guilty I used to feel as a child, afraid that I wasn't living up to the expectations my mother, my wonderful spiritual family, had for me. Now that I was out in what we orphans called "the real world," what awaited me? Who would I disappoint now?

I entered the school and began my da

y. Trevor was with me at every possible opportunity. I saw immediately that Germaine Osterhout was annoyed and upset over the attention he was devoting to me. She glared at me across aisles, whispered to her friends while keeping her eyes burning my way, and turned her back on me whenever she could, especially when was walking or talking with Trevor.

"I really wish you could come to the party," he told me at lunch. "Maybe I could speak to your cousins about it. I'd promise to bring you home early. They should be happy you're getting to know people. It's one of the hardest things to do when you start a new school. Should I try?" he asked.

I thought about it. I wanted to go very much, but I also still felt Ami would see it as some sort of betrayal, some form of ungratefulness. I had agreed to her restrictions and hadn't whined or complained.

"I don't think it would be a good idea. I have to be sure they're comfortable with everything I do. They're doing so much for me," I said, hoping he would understand.

"If they really want to help you, they'd let you make friends," he muttered, refusing to be denied.

He saw my troubled look. I liked him. I really did. I think he saw that too.

Tags: V.C. Andrews Gemini Horror
Source: readsnovelonline.net