The Charade

by Judy Corry

  The fact that her brother Carter—the guy who'd basically ignored me when we'd met earlier—was sitting across from me and judging my every move didn't help, either.

  But even though he was probably the least welcoming person I'd met today, he was still gorgeous. His pale blue eyes against his light tan skin reminded me of that famous National Geographic photo of the "Afghan Girl."

  While his brother and sister had been giving me a more-than-friendly welcome, it was Carter whom I was hyper-aware of. So aware that my face burned every time I looked in his direction and caught him studying me.

  But Cambrielle had just asked me a question, right?

  I racked my brain, trying to remember what she'd asked. She wanted me to tell her about myself?

  "What do you want to know?" I asked, hoping I'd guessed right.

  "Where are you from? What grade are you in?"

  Easy questions.

  Good.

  I might be able to handle those.

  "I'm from Ridgewater, New York," I said, unscrewing the lid of my water bottle and taking a quick sip to moisten my dry mouth. "And I'm a senior."

  "Cool," Cambrielle said. "So you're not too far from home."

  "Nope. It only took about four and a half hours to drive here." I set my water bottle back on my tray. "What about you guys? Where are you from?"

  "We're actually from here," Cambrielle said. "Our estate is just on the other side of Eden Falls."

  Estate.

  As in, not just a house but a place with a big ol' plot of land and probably a castle to go along with it.

  I swallowed, realizing that most people at this school probably grew up in places you didn't call home but rather "the estate," "the penthouse," or "the mansion."

  Sure, in Ridgewater we had families like the Carmichaels, Perkins, and the Brooks who were wealthy, but their homes could still technically be called homes.

  I was so out of my element here.

  "I'm guessing you're day students then?" I asked, hoping my face didn't give away how out of place I felt.

  "We are," Cambrielle said, "But it almost feels like we live here sometimes since we're here so much."

  "Are you involved in extracurricular activities?" I asked.

  She nodded. "I'm in the drama club with Nash. I'm not a spotlight hog like him and so I've mostly just been part of the crew, but I'm thinking about auditioning for a part in the winter musical this year."

  "I'm not a spotlight hog," Nash said. Then tossing his head dramatically, he said, "It's not my fault that the crowd adores me."

  I couldn't help but smile at the dynamic between these two. They were hilarious.

  "Elyse was hoping to get involved in the drama program, so I'll have to tell her to talk to you two about it."

  Nash seemed to perk up at my mention of my sister having similar interests. "I'd love to show her the ropes." And when he looked at my sister with sudden interest, I had a feeling she was going to be receiving a similarly warm welcome from him.

  "I think warning her about Nash may be a better way to go." Cambrielle grinned as she glanced over to my sister who was in the middle of a conversation with Mack, Hunter, and Scarlett. "But it’ll be fun to have her join us. My best friend was in the drama club with me last year, but she transferred to a school in London. So, I'd love to have a new friend in there with me."

  "I'm sure Elyse would love a friend in there, too. While I can be amazing when it comes to pretending to be my sister when we feel like tricking our mother, beyond that my acting skills die. I'm actually hoping to play basketball this winter."

  You know, if I get the right grades.

  "Basketball?" Nash pulled his attention from my sister at my mention of the sport. "If you're into basketball, you've sat at the right table. Mack, Carter, and Hunter are all on the boys’ team and Scarlett plays like a banshee on the girls’ team."

  "Really?" I asked, though I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. Mack was basically a giant and Carter was really tall, too.

  "Yeah, they practice on the court at our house all the time," Nash said. "I'll be too busy with the winter musical to play for the school's team this year, but I could totally put together a scrimmage game or two at our court sometime, if you want to practice before the tryouts in November."

  "S-sure," I tried to say, caught completely off guard at his offer. "That would be fun."

  "Actually," Nash said, his eyes lighting up. "We're having a back-to-school barbecue at our place this weekend. You should come."

  I was being invited to a party?

  Already?

  "Th-that sounds fun." Social circles were decided quickly at schools like this, and I’d better jump into the social scene while the invitation was there.

  Cambrielle sat a little taller. "If you don't have anything going on before the party, you could come early and hang out. I've been stuck in the Hamptons with my brothers all summer, so it would be nice to have some girl time."

  "You wouldn't mind?"

  "Mind?" Cambrielle asked. "Definitely not. In fact, if your sister and Scarlett want to come, we can just call it our pre-party."

  "Hey, wait a minute," Nash said, setting his hands on the table. "Don't tell me you're going to try to steal Ava from me. I thought Carter and Mack would be my biggest competition, not my baby sister."

  He thought Carter and Mack would be competing for me?

  I was flattered by the sentiment, but Mack seemed to be dazzled by my sister at the moment, and Carter was currently reaching into a charcoal-colored backpack beside him, having ducked out of the conversation minutes ago.

  I looked at Nash and Cambrielle, wondering what was going on. Was this just some kind of game they played with each other? See who could make the most friends the first week of school?

  I'd been worried that everyone would already be settled into their friend groups and wouldn't want to make room for Elyse and me, but were the Hastings siblings actually fighting over me?

  Well, two of the Hastings siblings, that is. Carter was currently opening what seemed to be a non-fiction book—written in Spanish from the looks of the title I couldn't translate—and his attention to it was intense, as if he was planning to escape into its pages while he finished his meal.

  Who was this guy?

  I could understand the compulsion to read an addictive romance novel in order to find out how the couple got together in the end, but a Spanish self-help book at dinner? I didn't understand the pull for something like that.

  Unless it was, of course, scheduled into that planner of his that Mack mentioned earlier.

  I pushed away my curiosity over what made Carter Hastings tick and focused back on Nash and Cambrielle who were now apparently deciding who got to drive Elyse, Scarlett, and me to their house on Saturday afternoon.

  No bother over the fact that Elyse probably didn't even know about the party, let alone a pre-party, and therefore couldn't be counted on attending for sure yet.

  I was about to suggest that since most vehicles had five seats, we could all just drive in the same vehicle when Carter's deep voice cut into the air. With a hint of annoyance, he said, "You two are going to scare Ava and her sister away before the end of the night, if you don't stop arguing."

  From his tone, I expected him to be glaring at his siblings. But when I glanced across the table at him, he was still focused on his book, casually turning a page. As if breaking up his siblings’ fights while reading came as naturally to him as breathing.

  "Oh, just read your book, Carter," Cambrielle said, waving her hand at her aloof brother. She turned to me and said, "How about this: Nash can drive you to our house and I can drive you back since we all know how Nash loses track of time during his parties."

  "Good thinking." Nash held a finger in the air. Then looking at me, he asked, "How does that sound? I'll drive you to our place, and my responsible little sis will bring you back to the school afterward."

  "I, uh—" I swallowed, not used to this kind of a
ttention. "I guess that sounds good."

  "Perfect," Cambrielle said, beaming that her plan had won out over her brother's.

  A moment later, the headmistress, Mrs. Sutton—a spindly woman with dramatic features wearing a white ruffled blouse and a black pencil skirt—stood at the podium in the front of the room to welcome us to a brand-new school year at Eden Falls Academy. While everyone's attention was turned to Mrs. Sutton, I glanced at my sister to see how she was faring so far.

  When she looked my way, she mouthed, "Doing good?"

  I nodded and then mouthed, "You?" To which she gave me a thumbs-up sign.

  So far, so good.

  5

  Ava

  The first day of classes began the next morning. I wore uniform number two since it was Tuesday—a cream-colored blazer, white button-down shirt, pink-and-burgundy plaid skirt, a necktie, and burgundy socks. It was my favorite of the uniforms we'd had to buy for the school year since the lighter colors went well with my skin tone.

  But with the colors being more feminine, I wondered if the boys would be wearing the same color palette. My question was answered when I went to breakfast in the great hall and saw that while the boys’ ties were made from the same pink-and-burgundy plaid material, their blazer and slacks were navy blue—which actually went together nicely. My mom would be proud of whoever chose the school uniforms because they clearly had an eye for fashion.

  I ate breakfast with Scarlett, Hunter, and Elyse. Mack and the Hastings crew were all day students, so Scarlett told us that they rarely ever had breakfast at the school.

  My first class of the day was AP English. Unlike math, I actually did quite well with the subject. When the teacher, Mr. Brown, went over the syllabus for this year, thankfully it wasn't too overwhelming. We were to read a few classics on our own and as a class, do some reports and group projects, and when it came time to take the AP test at the end of the year, we'd hopefully have learned enough to pass the test and have some college credit before graduation.

  Elyse and Scarlett were in my class, along with Mack and Nash, so it was nice to see some friendly faces among the new ones.

  "Which class do you have next?" Elyse asked me as we walked down the student-crowded hall after English.

  I glanced at the schedule that I'd printed out and slipped into the front cover of my floral binder.

  "I have Statistics." I groaned. "Talk about ruining the day before it really got started."

  Elyse chuckled, knowing well how much I loathed math. "At least you'll get it over with, right?"

  "For the morning portion, anyway."

  "Do you start your tutoring right after school then?"

  I nodded. "As per my agreement with the headmistress."

  "Who knows, maybe your tutor will be really cute," Elyse offered, like working with a cute guy would make the tutoring sessions less torturous.

  "If only I could be so lucky." I sighed, hugging my books to my chest. "Pretty sure Mom knows all about my study sessions with Jameson last year and knows better than to let me be set up with someone like that again."

  Elyse laughed. "For your grade's sake, I suppose I should hope that your tutor is a middle-aged woman so you're not caught making out in the library stacks instead of studying."

  "Yep," I said.

  We came to the end of the hall where Elyse would go one way to her next class, and I would go the other.

  "Good luck with math," Elyse said, turning to look at me before separating. "Who knows, maybe it’ll be your favorite class this year."

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Elyse had been on this positive psychology kick recently and seemed determined to make it rub off on me.

  "I'll see you at lunch," I said.

  "See you then."

  I watched Elyse disappear into the crowd of students wearing cream and blue blazers. And then, deciding not to put off the inevitable, I headed toward the A hall where Mrs. Simmons's class was.

  I walked into the room, which had large east-facing windows and posters with various inspirational quotes. There was a handful of students already seated at the tables, chatting among themselves.

  There was a middle-aged woman with red, shoulder-length curly hair standing at a whiteboard writing notes for today's class. When she noticed me out of the corner of her eye, she stopped writing.

  "Oh hello," she said, placing the cap on the black dry erase marker she'd been using. "You must be Ava."

  "Um, yeah, that's me," I said, surprised she knew my name even though we'd never met before. But in a school with less than five hundred students, it shouldn't really surprise me. They probably didn't get much turnaround at a place like this.

  "It's so great to have you at our school," she said, her smile wide on her burgundy-colored lips. "I'm Mrs. Simmons."

  I just nodded, not sure what I should say since saying I was excited to meet my new math teacher would be a lie. Math was a torture device invented by disturbed humans, and math teachers who chose to immerse themselves in the subject had to be possessed by a math demon to willingly spend multiple hours of their day surrounded by the subject.

  So I went with a simple, "I love your shoes."

  My mom had taught me that the best way to get on someone's good side was to give them an honest compliment. And since I needed to get in Mrs. Simmons’s good graces more than anyone else's at this school, I planned to give her a compliment each day I had her class.

  Because surely she wouldn't fail someone who was always looking for the best in her…right?

  It was the best plan I'd come up with so far, at least.

  She looked down at her black peep-toe wedges briefly, a smile slipping onto her face. "Thank you. They were a birthday present from my husband."

  "He has good taste." I smiled earnestly because I truly did like her shoes. In fact, for a teacher in her early forties, she actually had a great sense of style.

  A few more students walked into the classroom, which brought Mrs. Simmons back to whatever she'd meant to tell me. "I've already spoken with Headmistress Sutton about your situation." She cleared her throat before ducking her head closer and continuing in a hushed tone. "And we thought the best way for you to excel in my class this year would be for us to do something we've had success with in the past years."

  Great.

  Apparently, my case was special enough that the teachers had already been warned about me.

  A deep feeling of shame seeped into my chest, spreading throughout my whole body and making me feel hot in my blazer.

  I tugged on my necktie and quickly glanced behind me to make sure the students already seated weren't eavesdropping on this possibly humiliating conversation.

  Thankfully, they were all either busy chatting with each other like long-lost friends or staring into their phones.

  Mrs. Simmons continued, "I always try my best to cater to the needs of each of my students, but since it can sometimes be helpful to have things explained in different ways, we have arranged for your peer tutor to attend during this same hour so you can sit together. This way he can help answer any questions you may have during my lectures."

  He? My tutor was a guy?

  "Okay." I nodded and then breathed in through my nose, telling myself that if I remained calm, none of the students behind me would guess that Mrs. Simmons was doing anything other than welcoming a new student to her class.

  My teacher's attention caught on something behind me, and then she smiled again. "Looks like your tablemate has just arrived."

  I glanced behind me and found a tall guy with dirty-blond hair and piercing blue eyes that only appeared even more blue next to his navy blazer.

  Yes, I was looking at Carter Hastings.

  Oh no, oh no, oh no. Please don't let him be my tutor.

  Carter nodded in our direction before taking a seat at a table in the center of the second row, leaning back and stretching his long legs. He lazily draped his arm across the back of the chair beside him. And when his gaze li
fted to mine, looking at me through eyelashes that were surprisingly dark for his lighter hair, my face burned hot with embarrassment.

  Had he known yesterday when we met that he'd be helping me this year?

  Was that why he'd barely given me the time of day? Because he already knew I was beneath him?

  Ugh!

  Of all the people at this school I could have been partnered with to help me with math, why did it have to be him?

  I turned away from Carter and focused back on my teacher. "I have to work with Carter?" I asked, my throat dry.

  "Oh, so you're already acquainted with Mr. Hastings?" Mrs. Simmons’s eyes lit up, obviously not sensing how unenthusiastic I was at this pairing. "He’s one of my brightest students and has proven to be a great tutor in previous years."

  So he did tutoring on the regular. Was that, like, his charity project? Rich people always liked being seen as charitable, right?

  The bell rang.

  "I, um, guess I better take my seat," I said, even though the thought of sitting next to Carter and officially outing myself to the whole class as the girl who needed Carter's benevolent help this year was about the last thing I wanted to do.

  But since I didn't want to draw any more attention to myself by standing next to the teacher after the bell had already rung, I walked the few feet to where Carter was and set my binder on the table. And then, after waiting for Carter to remove his arm from the back of my chair, I sat down and scooted in.

  "Good morning," I said to him. I decided that if I didn't make the first move to break the ice, based on our previous interactions, he might just ignore me altogether.

  He took his time to turn in my direction, and before he said anything, he looked me over from head to toe. His gaze seemed to linger on the burgundy-colored socks that hit just below my knee, but then he finally lifted his gaze up to mine and said, "Hi."

  I furrowed my brow together, confused at why he'd eyed my socks for so long. Had I worn them wrong or something?

  I'd never had to wear a uniform to school before, but I was pretty sure it was customary to have the socks pulled up instead of folded over.