by Danae Ayusso
We headed back towards the office and Price waved us over.
When we joined them, I stood back with my hands in my pockets, feeling a bit cornered in the confirmed space.
“Mikhail, this is Principal Wallace,” Price introduced, motioning towards the short, dark skinned woman.
“Ma’am,” I said with a nod.
She smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mikhail,” she said, her voice was warm and compassionate, but I could tell she was warned that I’m a head case, ex-ward of the state and that she needed to walk on eggshells around me. “Price speaks very passionately of you and your intelligence, and he’s warned me of potential hardships you may experience in your first adventures in schooling.”
Again, I nodded. “Yes, Ma’am,” I mumbled.
Principal Wallace motioned for me to leave the office and she followed me out into the hallway. “What do you think of my school?” she asked, walking down the long corridor, her hands folded together in front of her.
Not sure what to do, and irritated that Shep and Price were staying in the office, I followed her.
“It isn’t what I was expecting, Ma’am,” I admitted. “It’s better than I’m accustomed to seeing in Philly, but for some reason I expected more.”
Thankfully, she didn’t take offense and chuckled.
“Three years ago a bond was passed, after eight attempts, and with a beneficiary that made up the difference, we were able to provide our students what you see,” Principal Wallace explained. “The region isn’t as populated as it used to be, and we had to combine the junior high and high school together, but it’s the nicest and most technology heavy school on this side of the Rockies.” She stopped outside of the library and motioned towards it.
Not sure what I was supposed to be looking at, but impressed with the two story library, I stepped up to the windows and looked inside. It was filled with rows of computers, enough for twenty students on each side, and leather club chairs in groupings with tables along the wall of windows separating the library from the corridor. The center was open, giving it a two-story ceiling with contemporary chandeliers that hung down; they reminded me of the ones I had seen in a travel magazine for a hotel in France. Wood and metal bookcases filled three walls on two-stories, and were surrounded on the second story by a glass and metal walkways with wood railings and taut metal wire acting as horizontal balusters.
“It’s beautiful,” I mumbled then chuckled. “It looks like something Price would design.”
Principal Wallace nodded. “As it should since he’s the one that designed and built it,” she said, motioning towards the pewter plaque next to the glass and wood doors.
Dedicated to our beneficiary: Price Simoeau.
“Price Simoeau,” Principal Wallace said, now that it registered with me, “is a pillar of the community and of this very school. For years I have looked the other direction, have ignored the fights and the private war between the founding families, and because of that Price made it possible for everything you see here. The budget didn’t have the library in it. The Board wanted to go digital in order to save money and shove the digital library in a closet of a room. Price fought for this beautiful marvel. He said that the next generations wouldn’t understand the importance of books, of feeling them in their hands, of flipping through their pages, or being surrounded by the written word from those of the past, if it wasn’t available to them. This library was the result, at his expense.
“The workers were his, the materials, even the computers and books were graciously donated by him. Price was the one that donated his architectural insight and services in the remodeling of the school. He designed this building, utilizing what was originally here, making the green building we have today. It is the only one in Montana,” she said, sounding rather prideful. “Price asked me to look the other direction, to allow you to simply walk in with the needed credits for a senior, to ignore any type of moments of apparent psychosis you may have because of your condition,” she explained.
My shoulders dropped.
It strangely hurt my feelings that Price did that.
Didn’t you notice she was calling him Price and not our father?
I did but I wasn’t going to say anything since I haven’t been able to call him father either.
You have issues and should consider seeking professional help for them.
Fuck you.
“I have no problem doing any of that,” Principal Wallace assured me. “But what he asked next, a headache I was promised would be gone this year, makes me question what he’s keeping from me. Sure, the wrestling program would suffer at the two-fifteen weight class, as would the baseball team with no second baseman, but the virtue of the daughters of Anaconda would be safe. Now, the little bastard is coming back.”
Uh, what is this broad talking about?
Beats the shit out of me.
“Uh, sorry?” I offered.
Principal Wallace shook her head. “I was assured it wasn’t anyone’s fault, but I find it very hard to believe. It took an act of God to get him accepted to the art program in Paris, but now I have to put up with his annoying ass again because Price asked me to.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Draven Van Zul,” she said as if that should have told me something, but it told me nothing.
“The one that got into it with Shep?” I asked.
“Is that where his black eyes came from?” she asked.
“Apparently,” I said.
“So it’s already started,” she grumbled. “Didn’t even make it to the first day of school and it’s starting. This is why I wanted him gone.”
Uh, can we take back the going to school offer because these white people are crazy.
Principal Wallace is black.
She’s white as hell on the inside, I can tell.
“I want to test into school,” I said. “To make sure that Price isn’t just projecting his genius on the ward of the state that was dumped on him. Also, I don’t want special treatment. If I freak out and need tased, call the cops… Hopefully it’s Simian that shows up because I like him and I’m sure he wouldn’t hogtie me like the other one did after I kneed him in the balls and broke his nose, but whatever. I’ve never had preferential treatment; if anything, I had the opposite of preferential treatment, but I don’t want a library putting me above others. I saw too much of that in Philly, but instead of a library it was which banger and from which cellblock that dictated the pecking order in the hood.”
Principal Wallace nodded. “I completely understand.”
“I doubt that,” I mumbled; now she’s just patronizing me.
“Mikhail, I clawed and crawled my way out of the Badlands,” she informed me.
“Shut up!”
She nodded. “I grew up in Hunting Park. My brother was killed in front of me by gangbangers when I was ten. My mother was stabbed to death walking home from church when I was sixteen. And my baby sister died in my arms the day before we were to leave that hellhole when I was eighteen: she was shot four times in the chest. Mistaken identity,” she explained.
Holy shit. Sista is from the hood!
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Principal Wallace shook her head. “Don’t be. I get it and I understand where you’re coming from better than anyone, Mikhail. Believe me when I say I get it, and believe me when I promise that what you crawled out of none of these kids will ever understand, and that makes you better and stronger than they could ever imagine being. The issues you have, it’s a way to deal with the shit hand you’ve been dealt, but they aren’t you. Don’t let them control you or dictate your future. You are better than that, you are a survivor,” she promised me. “Take a seat and you can take the entry exam on the computer,” she said with a smile, motioning towards the library.
Huh, I think this bitch just played us.
So it appears.
“Well played, Ma’am,” I said, pulling the library door open, and she winked
at me.
****
Shep was in one of the leather club chairs along the windows of the library, his legs kicked out in front of him, magazine in hand, fast asleep.
He lasted an hour.
Price was taking care of some things that pertained to getting me enrolled in school. Apparently he wanted to take me to get a physical and to the dentist. As annoying as that is, and how it could be misconstrued that he thought I was sick, infected, dirty, or diseased and cavity filled, it was sweet in a parenting way that he was thinking of my health.
If only he knew.
Principal Wallace said the test would take an hour per subject and is designed to be taken over a two-week period.
I assured her I could do it in three hours.
Yes, I was hypercompetitive.
Yes, I rather enjoyed flaunting my intelligence for those that could comprehend that my genius was vastly superior to theirs.
And yes, it only took three hours to do and I was bored after the fifth multiple-choice question.
After hitting enter on the final essay question of the ten subjects, I saved it then hit submit for review before logging off.
I was hungry, tired, moody, and ready for a nice, long, hot bath before face planting in bed.
“Wake up, Sleeping Beautiful,” I called out, heading over to Shep.
Softly he moaned but didn’t wake.
Slap him upside the…
My eyes snapped to the windows just as he appeared.
My Frenchman.
Instead of the basketball shorts and hoodie he wore earlier, he was dressed in designer jeans and a fitted black sweater, fancy leather boots, and his hair was standing on end like a boyband reject. He was midway down the hallway when he stopped in mid-step then turned to face me. His brows pulled together and his full lips twisted into an irritated pout before he appeared directly in front of me, on the other side of the glass, and I jumped, startled by his fast movements.
Something was different about him, but I didn’t know what.
My head tilted to the side to regard him, and his titled the same direction. When I tilted it the other way, his head tilted the other way.
“Really?” I complained, flipping him off and he chuckled. “Why are you here?” I whispered.
He shrugged.
“You either talk my ear off or you have me talk yours off but now you’re not talking?” I asked.
Again, he shrugged.
I glared at him, which amused him for some reason.
Why was he messing with me?
“I want a divorce, this one is broken,” I huffed.
Again, he chuckled and put his mouth up to the glass and breathed heavily on it. His breath washed across the glass, fogging it up.
That isn’t normal for a delusion.
His black eyes focused on mine, as if gauging my response, as his finger drew a smiley face in the condensation.
“What in the…” my words trailed off.
He smooched his lips together before winking at me then was gone in a blur of movement.
Shep groaned before getting to his feet. “You done already?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
I nodded.
He joined me at the window. “Do I even want to know?” he asked, looking at the dripping smiling face as I was.
Absently, I shook my head. “No, I would like to go home now,” I whispered, trying to keep from doubling over.
Chapter Seventeen
Rationality Eludes Me
For hours, I’ve laid awake staring at the ceiling.
For hours, I’ve struggled to wrap my head around what in the hell is happening and why.
For hours, I’ve deconstructed everything that’s happened since stepping off the train in Anaconda.
And for hours, I’ve come up with nothing.
No answers.
No working hypothesis.
No anything.
For a control freak, always has to be the smartest in the room and have the answer for any and all situations, like me, it was driving me crazy…
Crazier than I already am.
Justice has kept her mouth shut. Most likely she’s sleeping or in a pastry induced coma since Ellie brought me up a bag of croissants after dinner that she had picked up for me at Price’s request. Stuffed from the whole roasted chicken I ate myself at dinner, I put them on the nightstand for later…
I ended up eating all of them five minutes later while reading one of the psychology textbooks Price picked up from the college in Missoula for me.
Since then, I’ve been lying awake trying to figure out what in the hell is going on.
I’ve figured nothing out and have nothing but questions without answers.
It was making me exceptionally irritable.
“Screw it, I’m going to work out,” I grumbled, slipping out of bed.
I tiptoed across the room, trying to keep the snoring pony size dog stretched out in the window seat, keeping me from climbing out the window, from waking.
The moment I opened the door, Cujo was there throwing her hip into it, closing the door.
“I’m going to Old Yeller your ass,” I warned.
She snorted, plopping down on my feet.
“Don’t be a bitch. I have enough bitches in my head to deal with, I don’t need your bitch ass flipping me shit as well,” I complained, trying to shove her off my feet. “Seriously, move or else I’ll call Nakeva to take care of your ass for me.”
Softly Cujo growled.
“Fine,” I huffed. “Come with me. I need to punch on something, and I was hoping the bag in the barn would assist with that. But if you want to continue to be a bitch, I can punch on you.”
Cujo snorted and got to her feet.
I tried to shimmy out of the room so she couldn’t follow, but her huge wedge head pushed the door open and she gave me a condescending look.
“Noted, Bitch,” I whispered.
Silently I closed the door behind me then tiptoed down the hallway, hopping up on the railing and slid down to the foyer. When I started for the front door, Cujo appeared in front of me, causing me to jump, startled, and blocked my way.
“What the…” my words trailed off.
She snorted then pushed me towards the kitchen, obviously suggesting a different means of escape.
Weird ass dog.
I know, right?
You really should get nosy and start asking questions because animals shouldn’t possess that type of intelligence or speed. I mean, the bitch just appeared!
True.
The cool night air felt amazing against my skin.
It’s a nice change from the sticky nights in Philly and the lack of air conditioning at the halfway house.
Yeah, but the house doesn’t have AC and apparently doesn’t need it.
The hottest day this summer here was a sweltering eighty-degree and lasted for two days. That ain’t shit compared to Philly.
I know, and the house didn’t get past seventy-one without AC. You have to give Price props when it comes to his green ways.
I know, I told him that a couple of times.
When?
When do you think? You retreat to the safety of our mind and I take over and hang out with Daddy. He’s starting to grow on me. It’s clear I’m his favorite.
Whatever.
“It’s pretty,” I mumbled, looking around.
I hadn’t actually been out at night to this side of the house where the barn was. Usually it was dawn when I came out here, if I did, but seeing it at night made it almost magical.
Magical? Good God you are losing your mind.
Small footpaths of pavers with shapes pressed into each were illuminated by colored runway lights leading to the various points of interest around and away from the house. The barn path was marked in amber, the guesthouse green, water feature purple, and around the driveway red.
There was a small outdoor park-like area out back with a long cedar table, benches and chairs under a
canopy of leaves from the huge maple trees. Little frosted glass and wrought iron lanterns hung from their branches, an unlit candle inside of each. On Sundays when the weather is nice this is where the family has their family lunch or dinner. It’s large enough for everyone and the weather has been nice all summer so it was the perfect place to have a family meal.
It was a bit overwhelming for me at first, but I’m used to it now and would be disappointed if the extended family stopped showing up every Sunday.
They aren’t bad. The little kids are a little creepy at times, but watching Simian and the others wrestle around and throw each other in the creek is amusing.
I have to agree with you there.
There’s a gazebo illuminated by soft turquoise lights with a large hot tub. Shep’s been trying to get me to use it with him, but it goes beyond knee deep so there’s no way in hell I’d ever get in it.
I’m in agreement with you one. I’m sure he just wants to look at our small tits in a swimsuit anyway. Wouldn’t he be disappointed?!
They aren’t that… They are that small but you don’t have to talk shit about them. They’re the only boobs we got.
Cujo nudged me with her nose towards the barn and I followed her as she went.
Is it just me or is she shaking her ass as she walks?
I wasn’t going to say anything, but it does look like she’s shaking her ass.
When I headed into the barn, I stopped and looked at the doorway. The wood framing was painted that same ugly red as the fencing, and it extended along the bottom perimeter of the building.
For a man that seems gay as hell when it comes to his design sense, he apparently skipped the day on exterior fundamentals. That red doesn’t go with anything!
I know. I asked about it but he merely shrugged with a smile.
Uh, obviously he’s hiding something.
Yeah, his fuck up when it came to picking decent colors for the corral fencing and accent pieces on the outbuildings.
No… Okay, maybe. I’d totally play it off if I screwed up my color selection this bad.
You and me both.
When the interior lights flipped on, I jumped, my eyes snapping to the back of the barn where Cujo was sitting, next to the light switch, giving me a look.
