I type Let’s talk at lunch, partly to avoid fifteen or so texts telling me the details of their breakup while I’m meeting with the headmistress.
I can’t help but love Katherine. She’s reckless and flighty in some ways but also sweet and insecure. Sometimes I wonder how she survives our school.
I shiver in the cool spring air. A few bubbling gray clouds float in a pompous parade across the sky. The sweeping green lawns glisten from last night’s rain all the way to where they meet the wide river on the northwestern end of the school property. We resume rowing practice next week.
Those clouds should be the last of the storm, clearing out just in time for tomorrow night’s prom. The theme this year is “A Night of Shakespeare” and it’s being held at my family’s hotel. Every year the school chooses a different theme and location, and my father’s never liked the idea of two hundred high school kids invading his five-star Monrovi Inn. But this year he finally agreed, since I was on the planning committee. How could he resist? He’s stressing out about it now as they prepare the event area at the hotel—somewhat away from the other guests. Poor Dad, he might be catatonic by Sunday.
Phone vibrates again. Katherine: Blake won’t even talk to me. This is why love is like death’s cold grip, I think. Once upon a time, I believed in love, I believed in the entire happily-ever-after dream. My aunt and uncle’s divorce, which turned one of those perfect couples into hate-filled enemies, was the first prick to the bubble. My older sister’s strange marriage, our associate pastor’s affair, and my own first crush crushed—all of these sent the dream of love deflating like a loose balloon in the room. Then I started comparing the people I knew to the romantic comedies and the fairy tales—and there was no comparing. That kind of love was not real life. Poor Blake was getting a quick lesson in that fact.
I’ve nearly reached the administration building, wondering again why I’m being beckoned to the headmistress. Maybe it’s about prom . . . I hope. Suddenly, a motorcycle roars to life down at the parking lot. The brick walkway makes a fork, and I see a guy pulling on his helmet near the entrance. From the distance I can barely see him, but I can safely guess this is the new guy.
He glances my way, and I realize that I’ve stopped and am staring. I turn away, but when I glance back, he is still looking. Then he turns and his bike soars forward and out the main entrance.
I walk slowly toward the door to administration and listen to the rumble of the motorcycle until it disappears into the sound of distant traffic on the highway.
Perhaps the new guy will make school life more interesting. The girls will be going crazy over him if he’s as good-looking as Alicia is texting, and the guys will be acting all tough and insecure at the same time. But I’m not going to hold my breath. I’m two months away from finishing my junior year, and there are some days when it’s all I can do to stay focused. As much as Gaitlin tries to polish and groom its students for the global marketplace of the elite, I’m one of my counselor’s disappointments. NO DIRECTION is probably stamped across my cumulative folder.
Ms. Cobb, the headmistress’s assistant, sits behind the main counter at her metal desk, tapping away at the keys of her computer. A small bell rings as I enter, inciting her to hop up with earnest formality.
“May I help you?” she asks like she doesn’t know who I am. “You called me to the office?”
“Name?”
“Kate Monrovi,” I say with a sigh. Ms. Cobb always asks every student’s name as if she needs glasses or has Alzheimer’s.
“Nice to see you, Kate Monrovi,” she says with überprofessionalism. At a Christmas party, I once overheard Ms. Cobb confiding in a teacher that she couldn’t understand why she was passed over for the headmaster position. She’d worked at the school for twenty years, and she’d gotten her master’s degree through online courses. She didn’t understand it.
“Can I tell Ms. Liberty the nature of your visit today?”
I shrug and set my hands on the counter. “I don’t know—I was hoping you could tell me.”
Ms. Cobb gazes at me over the top of her horn-rimmed glasses that sit perched toward the edge of her nose.
“You don’t know?” she says in a voice brimming with suspicion.
“No. I don’t know why.”
My phone vibrates in my purse, and I guess it’s either Katherine stressing about Blake or it’s Monica asking what is going on. Oliver, my best guy friend, has heard about it too. Sometimes I seriously hate technology.
“O-kay. I will let Ms. Liberty know that you’ve arrived then. But you do not know the nature of your visit.” She glances back at me as she hurries with hard steps down a narrow hall.
I scroll through my texts and they’re exactly what I expect. My friends would want to hear that I’ve seen the new guy taking off on a motorcycle, but I don’t write anyone. A moment later, Ms. Cobb returns and tells me that the headmistress will see me now. She leads the way, as if I need an escort. Unfortunately I know the way quite well.
“Nice to see you, Kate.” Ms. Liberty smiles and pulls up closer to her desk. It’s lined with neat stacks of files and paperwork along the sides. “We haven’t talked in a while. How are you?”
The headmistress smiling? At me? I think over the past few weeks, wondering if I’ve committed some crime that I don’t remember. But I come up with nothing. On the scale of high school drama, rebellion, illegal activities, and gossip, I’m mostly boring, except for my one indiscretion.
“I’m good.”
She motions for me to sit down.
“How are your parents?”
“Good.”
“Your brother is going to be with us next year, is that right?” “Yes.” Is this about Jake?
The headmistress smiles, enjoying this, it seems. “I suppose I have you worried, do I?”
“I am wondering why I’m here. Is something wrong?” I bite my lip and shift in the seat, which I just now realize is shorter than the headmistress’s chair. “Well, I know you didn’t call me in to see how my parents are.”
“Is there any reason for you to be worried?”
“I honestly can’t think of anything.” She’s enjoying my angst and even laughs.
“No, of course you aren’t in trouble. I’m sure you already know we have a new student at Gaitlin.”
“Okay,” I say, not getting her point, but thinking of the guy on the motorcycle.
“I would like you to be his student escort on Monday.”
I stare at her.
“Is that okay with you?” She gives me one of her administrative looks.
“Of course. But I’m not on the leadership team this semester.”
She picks up two files and opens them beside each other. I try to glance at them without appearing nosy. “And why aren’t you on the leadership team?”
“My schedule was too busy.”
“Mmm.” She nods as if unconvinced.
“My parents thought I needed to cut a few things to make sure I keep my grades up. My community service will be over in a few weeks, so I’ll probably do more school activities next year.”
“I’m glad you remained on the rowing team. And your community service will help toward college applications. Plus I’m sure you’ve learned a lot about your father’s company during the process.”
I nod. The consequences of my sophomore year transgression seem to have no end. Most of my friends have done much worse and never got caught. Mom says it’s because God knows I need to be kept in line and that her prayers help me to not get away with anything. Thank you, Mother.
“You have been in leadership before, have completed the training, and it doesn’t take a lot of effort to be an escort.”
I shake my head. “No, I mean, yeah. I can do it.”
“With your family background, I think it’s good to mend everything between the two of you immediately. I’d like to curb any potential problems.”
“Our family background?”
She closes the
files on her desk. “I’m sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. Obviously you don’t know that our new student is Caleb Kalani.”
“Who is that?” I shift in my seat and scour my memories for anyone with that name. It does sound vaguely familiar.
“Your families have a history that goes back a few generations. Do you know what I’m talking about?” Ms. Liberty pauses, then a look of concern flashes across her face, but it’s quickly replaced with her usual smile. “I see that you aren’t familiar. Well, Caleb also works at your father’s hotel—the local one, obviously.”
“He works there?” I lean forward in my seat. “Wait a minute, I’m completely confused now. We have a new student who has a tie to my family and who works at our hotel.”
“Yes. And Caleb’s father works there, as well. In fact, his father has been working at the Monrovi Inn for years.”
I try to think of the many employees at the Monrovi Inn. There are dozens in various departments, and I haven’t seen any new cute guys. Mr. Kalani, I suddenly remember. He’s the head of the maintenance department. That would explain why the new guy is on scholarship.
“Caleb is from Hawaii. He moved here a week or two ago.”
“I don’t understand the tie to my family?”
Ms. Liberty pushes back from her desk. “I think it was something between your grandfathers.”
She knows much more than she’s saying.
“Between my grandfather and the new guy’s grandfather?”
The headmistress stands. “I’m sorry Kate, I need to make a few phone calls. But if you will meet Caleb on Monday morning at 7:45, I would very much appreciate it.”
And I knew her “appreciate it” is more of an order than a request. After the sophomore year incident, I have no choice. If I want a good recommendation for college from Ms. Liberty, I need to remain on her good side.
“Oh, and he may come by the prom,” she says as I turn away. “So if you see him there, please introduce yourself, maybe introduce him to your friends. I’ll keep an eye out for him as well.”
I want to be sarcastic, reminding her that I’ve already paid my penance by volunteering for various school projects, working a weekend at a soup kitchen, and putting in weekly hours at the hotel. “I’m in charge of the refreshment booth at the prom.” Maybe she’ll let me off if she’s reminded of this; she doesn’t have to know I have an assistant lined up.
“Wonderful. I’ll see you there. Well, you may not recognize me in my costume,” she says with a little laugh. The chaperones and caterers are all dressing like various Shakespearean characters. I wonder how Ms. Liberty will hide her more than six feet of height beneath a costume, unless she’s coming as a man.
I walk out and expect to be assaulted by my friends’ texts, wanting to know the reason behind this visit. The news will have already traveled down the “text line,” with everyone waiting for an answer.
No way do I want to admit the truth—that I’m the welcome committee for the new cute guy. Instead I type into my phone: False alarm. Just questions about the prom.
Hopefully the new guy, tomorrow’s prom, and Katherine and Blake’s breakup will be enough to distract everyone. Meanwhile, who is this new guy, really?
Chapter Two
The miserable have no other medicine but only hope.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Measure for Measure (Act 3, Scene 1)
CALEB
“Are you going tonight, son?” Dad asks as he leans on the side of the old pickup where Luis and I unload sacks of fertilizer. Early this morning Dad coordinated the chairs and tables to be moved from storage to the lower event area. I was expecting something like this conversation once he found out the Monrovi was hosting Gaitlin Academy’s prom.
I glance at Luis, who grins. “I haven’t attended one day at the school.”
“That’s okay. You can still go.” My father is eager for me to integrate with my peers as soon as possible.
“Dad. No date. And I’m working today.” I heave a bag down to Luis. Dad was excited to get this soil from some region of Canada. He says it’ll help the plants. I have to admit I’m amazed at how the property here has flourished under Dad’s green thumb.
“You could ask your boss to let you off early,” he suggests with a wink.
“I don’t know, my boss is pretty strict. His workers call him bad names behind his back.”
“No ratting on us,” Luis says with a laugh as he reaches for the sack I’m holding.
Dad laughs at this. My father is one of those rare bosses whose team actually sings his praises. He keeps stacks of leadership and management books around at home. Every Christmas, he wants more—Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, The One-Minute Manager, From Good to Great. This position as head of maintenance is beneath him, but he loves it. And if he’s happy, what can I say?
“Have you run into Kate Monrovi yet?” Dad asks, watching me. Luis raises an eyebrow. Luis is a Mexican immigrant and has worked here for a year. He sends half of his income to his parents every other week to help support their struggling farm. One of the first things Luis said to me when I was partnered with him was, “Amigo, boss’s daughter es muy bonita.”
“No, Dad, not yet.”
“You’ll see her, there’s no doubt. She’s a good kid. She’s been working here part-time.”
I pause in handing Luis a bag. “Why is she working? Doesn’t her dad provide her with everything?” I want to say, Doesn’t daddy pamper his princess? but my father might take offense.
Respecting people is essential to Dad.
Luis is giving me the any-day-now look. I toss him a bag and it nearly knocks him over. I smirk and raise my eyebrows at him.
“You wait, see,” he threatens with a wink.
“I look forward to it, amigo,” I say. A challenge.
Dad laughs at us. I pick up the last bag. It’s soft and pliable and the scent of earth fills my nose.
“Last year she got into trouble, almost got expelled,” Dad says.
Now this is interesting. “What did she do?”
“I’m not sure, exactly. Something about driving without her license or driving with an intoxicated minor or disturbing the peace?” He shrugs.
That’s solid information, Dad, I think but don’t say. Sometimes my sarcasm can sound disrespectful, and that won’t work with my dad as Dad or my dad as Boss.
“You father good for news, si?” Luis says with a chuckle. He reaches out, then pulls back suddenly and I nearly fall out of the truck trying to keep the bag from dropping. I realize as he starts laughing that he did it on purpose.
“Revenge. Sweet.” He narrows his eyes.
“Yes, it is.”
“She’s a good girl,” Dad says from inside his own little world. He’s staring out across the golf course beyond the truck. “Whatever it was, I think she got the bad end of the stick. Her friends are more trouble than she is. And someone told me she took the fall for one of them, but I couldn’t tell you who; maybe Duncan knows.”
The subject is starting to wear on me. The last person I want to think about is the heir to the Monrovi Inns. Their chain of hotels dots maps around the world. It all started here, on this land—land that rightfully belonged to someone else.
“You should meet her. She might be a friend at both school and the inn.”
I sit on the edge of the truck bed and pull off my gloves. Luis walks to the shade to grab his water jug. “Dad, you know it’s better if I stay away from Kate Monrovi.”
Our eyes meet and Dad frowns thoughtfully.
Finally he says, “A friendship between our two families might be a good thing. It might be time.”
“Why haven’t you and Kate’s dad made amends? You work for the guy, after all.”
Dad rubs his chin. His brown calloused hands are starting to show his age. But his black eyes sparkle with contentment— he has a peace within him that I’m jealous of. Other times, I think about how he could have been so much more. I
nstead, he returned to this land, leaving so much behind, and for what?
“Reed and I have mutual respect. We don’t need friendship. Besides, it’s already a betrayal to the family that I work here. Your grandfather and your uncles are only okay with it because they hope it will offer them leverage some day.”
Grandfather. I’ve tried not to think about him too much since I left Hawaii. But I realize some of what I always thought was my grandfather’s indoctrination is probably more truthful than I want to admit.
“Friendship with the grandchildren.” Dad stares off again, thoughtful.
I grimace and hop from the tailgate. “I’m not planning to get to know her.”
“Go to the party, son.”
Glancing up to the sweeping, arched roof of the Monrovi Inn, I think of Kate. She doesn’t know me, and I don’t want to know her.
“I think there’s a dress code,” I say.
“I have a couple of suits in the closet.”
Luis walks up with a half-unwrapped Snickers bar dangling from his mouth. He closes the tailgate and rips a bite off the bar as he laughs. “Señor Kalani, boys do not want papa’s clothes.”
“Thank you, Luis,” I say. Beads of sweat run down my back, and I want to take off my Monrovi Inn polo shirt, but shirtless workers aren’t allowed on the grounds. There are rules surrounding everything here—in my job and now my school.
“I see your point,” Dad says.
I pull the truck keys from my pocket. We need to fix the fence on the far northern end of the property beyond the golf course.
“Luis, we better get going before my boss sees me wasting time talking about a stupid school dance.” I open the driver’s door while Luis trudges to the passenger side with a frown on his face. He lost at arm wrestling this morning, so I get to drive all day.
“Your boss might fire you for not going to the prom,” Dad says as if considering whether to enforce this. “I think you should check it out. I’m going to talk to Duncan about your clothing.”
I pause and then close the squeaky truck door. As head concierge of the Monrovi Inn, Duncan is the go-to man. From what I hear, he’s always good for extra event tickets—sometimes for free—and he has quite a lost-and-found collection. His house is like a museum.
Caleb + Kate Page 2
