St Mary's Academy Series Box Set 1

by Seven Steps

  “Um, thanks for the permission,” I whispered.

  “I’m serious. If you want to go out with a guy like Andrew, then be my guest. Sure, he dresses like a snob and feels threatened by other guys. And he’s kind of a douche—”

  “Ollie!”

  He grimaced. “Look. The point is that if that’s the type of guy you want, then fine. But don’t be with him just because you think you should. Don’t make him be one of your flowers.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “You paint flowers because they’re safe and because you’re good at it. But I’ve seen you do more. Your portraits are getting better and Able says you’re talented with colors. You could be doing amazing things, but you stick to your flowers because they don’t challenge you. Andrew’s just like that. He’s safe. He doesn’t challenge you, but you’re afraid to grow and be better than that!” He slammed his hand on the desk, glaring at me. “You are better than that! You’re better than him!”

  My heart stopped.

  My breath caught.

  I could only stare at Ollie in absolute surprise.

  “Mr. Santiago!” Mr. Khan called. “You have disrupted my class for the last time. Please wait for me in Mr. Mann’s office.”

  Ollie held my gaze for a minute longer, drilling his words into me. Then, he grabbed his single notebook, the one with mostly sketches and doodles in it, and stormed out, leaving me flabbergasted. Tears burned beneath my eyes. Tears of confusion. Of anger. Of betrayal. Of hurt.

  I felt all eyes turn to me, and my cheeks reddened. I was so embarrassed that I wanted to sink beneath the chair and out of sight forever.

  Had they heard what Ollie said? I wasn’t sure, but I knew everyone heard him slam his hand on the desk.

  Crap.

  I tried to refocus on my project. Tried to block out the whispers and the curious eyes. But it was difficult. I was so angry.

  Angry at Ollie for yelling at me in front of everyone.

  Angry at the school for pairing us up.

  But most of all, I was angry at myself, because somewhere deep within me, I knew Ollie’s harsh words were true.

  37

  It was two-thirty.

  I stood next to Ollie, filling in the outline without speaking.

  The only sounds came from Jean, Able, and Jeff. They didn’t help us at all, but they did watch us.

  “This school is weird,” Jean said, munching on an apple. “They say that what we do isn’t art, and yet they want flowers everywhere. Just because you draw a flower doesn’t make it art.”

  “I can hear you,” I said, not in any mood for Jean’s crap today.

  “I know you can. And I’m letting you know that I’ve seen you paint, and I’ve seen your sketchbook. You can do better than flowers.”

  “Van Gogh did flowers. Monet did flowers. Renoir did flowers.”

  “Yes, they did. They all took dumps too. That doesn’t mean that was their best work.”

  I dipped my brush in water and stirred it a little.

  “So, what are you saying?” I asked. “You don’t want me to paint flowers?”

  “I’m just saying that flowers are flowers. They’re mid-level art. Think about it. What are the most famous paintings in the world? The Mona Lisa. The Girl with the Pearl Earring. The Scream. Self-portrait without Beard. Those are pieces you stare at and dream about and dissect with your friends over Cheetos and a joint. No one dissects flowers.”

  “Jean, you paint flowers!” Able said. “I’ve seen you paint flowers.”

  “You’ve also seen me take a dump. I guess I’m a hypocrite on all levels.”

  He pushed her playfully.

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “Don’t worry about what they’re saying,” Jeff said, leaning back on an unpainted wall. “Please. Continue. The flowers are lovely.”

  I snorted. “Thanks for the permission.”

  He nodded regally and sat back to close his eyes. “So, is that Andrew kid your boyfriend?” he asked.

  My gut tightened. If one more person mentioned Andrew’s name, I might have a meltdown.

  “Yes.”

  “I figured. You two seemed so cozy. Is it serious?”

  It took everything I had to keep from telling him to mind his own business. “It’s only a day old.”

  “Guys like Andrew don’t do casual flings, you know. They’re like lions. They stalk. They pounce. And they devour.”

  “Technically, the female lioness does the hunting,” Jean said. “Plus, lions are boring. They keep all their females on lockdown, while they sleep all day. No woman wants that.”

  Jeff wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe what she needs is a Rat.”

  “Get out!” Ollie growled. “All of you.”

  “Why?” Jeff asked. “We were just having a polite conversation.”

  “I said get out!”

  Jean stood up. “Come on Ollie. We—”

  Then, Ollie stood, pointed to the door, and shouted something in a language I couldn’t understand. Spanish? Italian, maybe?

  Whatever it was made his fellow RATZ blanch and immediately head for the door.

  Within five seconds, Ollie and I were alone again.

  What did Ollie just say? He could barely speak good English, let alone a second language. Was it some secret made up language or was it a real one? And why didn’t it sound like any language I’d ever heard?

  I frowned and dipped my brush into the gray paint. My curiosity ate at me. I tried to keep it in. Tried to keep myself centered in the thick silence. But my mind was going into overdrive, and everything centered around my questions.

  I kept my cool for a good ten minutes. Then, I just couldn’t take it anymore.

  “What language was that?” I asked, trying to sound like I didn’t really care even thought it was eating me up inside.

  It was a long time before Ollie finally replied.

  “Iyari,” he said.

  “Iyari.” The word felt good on my tongue. Not that I’d ever heard of it. “What country is that?”

  “Iyaria. It’s where my father’s from.”

  I nodded, still trying to sound nonplussed about it. “It sounds pretty. The language, I mean.”

  He put his brush in water, dipped it in green, and started working on the leaves of the trees. “It is.”

  “Where is it located?”

  “In the Mediterranean Sea. Between Spain and Italy. It’s a little island, about the size of New York State. It’s small. Unimportant.”

  I nodded. “And Jean and Able are from Iyaria too?”

  Ollie washed his brush again, even though he was only half finished with the tree he was working on.

  “For the most part.”

  Weird. Four kids in the same school all from an island I’d never heard of before. What were the odds of that?

  Ollie picked up the painting supplies and started to pack them back in the crate they’d come in.

  “I’m beat. Can we start up on this tomorrow?”

  I smirked. “Well, seeing as how you’re already packed up, I guess the answer is yes.”

  I washed my brushes and closed up my paints. Then I placed them in the crate. Ollie picked up the crate and walked it back down to the janitor’s closet, slipping it through the door before closing it behind him.

  I stood back and looked at what we’d done so far. We were almost finished one wall. Now, we just had to outline and paint the other three.

  “Do you think we’ll finish it on time?” I asked.

  He stood next to me. “You’ll do it,” he said. “You’re not the type of girl to give up. You’re a fighter.” His voice sounded so sad. Like the fact I was a fighter pained him. But why? Why would Ollie care what type of person I was?

  We stood in silence for a long time.

  We weren’t touching or even looking at each other but somehow the moment felt intimate. Special. Like it did when we were back in the booth at the hideout.

  The memory
of that moment where our lips almost touched rushed up in my mind, and I stomped it back down. I didn’t want to think about Ollie that way. Especially since I was still angry about his outburst in chemistry lab. Plus, I had dinner with Andrew’s parents tonight. I had to stay focused. One slipup could mean the end of everything I was fighting for.

  Before my memories could overwhelm me, I cleared my throat.

  “We should head home,” I said. “Get some rest.”

  “Yeah. Rest.”

  I walked to the door, grabbed my things next to it, then pushed it wide.

  “Good night, Ollie.”

  “Good night, Princess.”

  I closed the door and headed off to my date with Andrew.

  38

  The ride to Andrew’s house in his private single engine plane had been pretty uneventful. His father was on the phone most of the time talking to some guy named Tom about some firm in Chicago, while Andrew made polite small talk about the weather, school gossip, and music he liked. We both liked the same bands, and we watched a few music videos on the overhead televisions to pass the time.

  When the plane landed, a limo picked up the three of us from the small airport and drove us to his weekend house. I had to admit, it was better than sitting in traffic.

  Andrew’s house was a huge four-story mansion, with a gigantic front lawn that looked more blue than green, tall bushes carved to look like Grecian soldiers, and a huge fountain with a forlorn looking angel standing in the middle of it right outside the front door. The entire house was made of pretty red brick, and columns stood like guards around the first floor. There were so many windows that I lost count of them all.

  The place was amazing. Yes, my family owned several homes around the world, including one in California and one in upstate New York. But we hadn’t visited any of them in years. We did stay in our house in India for a funeral, but that was just for a few weeks. And none of those houses were anything like this.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Andrew asked, grinning with pride.

  “It’s gorgeous!” My words were breathless with awe, which seemed to make him grin wider.

  The limo dropped us off between the fountain and the front door.

  A pretty woman in her mid-fifties, with long blond hair, red nails, high heels and noticeable Botox in her forehead met us there.

  “You must be Jasmine,” she said. She carefully ran over the cream gravel and pulled me into a hug. “You are everything I’ve imagined you to be. I’m Jeannette, Andrew’s mom. We’re so happy to have you in our home!”

  Jeannette smelled like perfume and lipstick. The smell reminded me of my mother, and I held on to Jeannette a second longer than I had to.

  Jeannette turned me to the door and took my hand. She gave it a little squeeze. Her hands were smooth and soft.

  “Please, come in.”

  I peeked at Andrew, who gave me an encouraging smile. Then, I allowed his mother to lead me inside.

  Andrew’s house was just like him. Clean, modern, and sophisticated. The floors, crown molding, and doors were all dark wood. Oversized family portraits decorated the walls. Large, overstuffed, dark leather sofas graced the living room, and there was a bear skinned rug in front of the fireplace. It was both manly and homey at the same time. I could see myself relaxing here by the fire.

  “So, you and Andrew met at an event?” she asked.

  I froze. What was I supposed to say? Andrew hadn’t prepared me for any of his mom’s possible questions. Did his parents know he was at Eric’s house that night, or did they think he was somewhere else?

  I decided to keep my answers vague until I could check with him.

  “Yes.”

  Jeannette’s eyes were a sharp, piercing blue, like her son’s. Such pretty eyes.

  “And you have some classes together?”

  “Just lunch,” I said. “But we see each other throughout the day.”

  She nodded slowly. She’d been carrying a glass with yellow, bubbling liquid in it. Champagne. She sipped it from time to time.

  “And what do you think of my son?”

  I sucked in a tiny breath. Why did that question feel to threatening? The way she put emphasis on my son made me feel like it was a loaded question. I chose my words carefully.

  “Andrew’s nice. He’s kind, sweet, chivalrous, smart, mature. He’s probably the most mature guy I know.”

  “And do you know many guys?”

  That question had me raising my eyebrow. But Jeannette didn’t flinch. I could clearly see how discerning she was. Maybe even cunning. She was trying to see if I was the type of girl who jumped from guy to guy. Granted, I’d dated a few guys who were in college—my brothers’ friends—but those were only one or two dates and we didn’t even hold hands. In the grand scheme of things, they barely counted as a blip on the dating radar.

  “Just my best friend’s boyfriends. Otherwise, I hang out with girls, mostly.”

  She nodded in approval, and I let out a tiny, relieved breath.

  “And what do you do for fun?”

  Andrew and his dad had disappeared, leaving Jeannette and me to amble down a long hallway. We stopped here and there to admire a piece of artwork or a suit of armor.

  I had to admit, this place had some great pieces.

  “I like to paint,” I replied.

  “Andrew did say you dabbled in the creative arts. I used to paint myself, you know. There’s a piece in the cellar I painted in college.”

  My brows rose. She seemed too business-like to be creative.

  “You used to paint?”

  “Yes. I really loved it too. But after a while, it all took a back seat. No time to paint when you’re working on a master’s degree.” She took a sip of her champagne. “Then I got married and Andrew came soon after that. Now I’m the chairwoman for fifteen different charities. I have five beautiful children and a husband who gets handsomer every year. Lucky me.”

  Another sip of champagne.

  “Do you ever miss painting?” I whispered.

  She sighed. Her brows knitted together, and she dropped her chin. “Sooner or later, we all have to grow up.” She let out a small laugh and finished off the rest of her champagne. “Well, we’ll be late for dinner. Shall we?”

  Mrs. Johnson made small talk all the way back to the dining room, where her husband and son were sitting, but I barely paid attention to it. It felt like I had seen my future. Beautiful busy woman whose entire life was focused on her charities, her family, and her children.

  When did she make time for herself? When did she stop and do something that fulfilled herself, even if she thought it was selfish? When did she let her soul breathe?

  Andrew sat up when he saw me. I could see in his eyes he wanted to know how my time with his mom went. It was important to him that his parents approve of me.

  I gave him a thumbs-up, and he grinned.

  I didn’t smile back, though.

  Was this really what I wanted?

  Did Andrew expect me to be like his mom?

  One thing was certain. I was not going to give up painting. Not for Andrew or anyone else.

  But wasn’t that what I was doing? I wasn’t exactly giving up my dreams, but I was definitely hiding them, and that wasn’t good either. It was dishonest.

  I’d been dishonest to Andrew by hiding this huge piece of myself. Plus, I’d lied to his dad.

  But now was the time to fix all of that. I liked Andrew, but it was time to come out of hiding and give him a choice. If he wanted me, then he would accept me, even if his family didn’t. Whatever the outcome, one thing was clear. I was done pretending.

  I wanted to be honest. I wanted to be real.

  What better time to start then during my first dinner with my boyfriend’s parents?

  I sat down at the dinner table and tried to calm my nerves.

  “Well, Jasmine,” Jeannette said. “I hope you’re hungry. The chef has made a special all-vegan selection for you.” She
rattled off names of some French dishes I’d never heard of.

  Still, food was food, right? And I appreciated the effort to accommodate my diet.

  “Oh, sounds yummy.”

  I wasn’t really familiar with French vegetarian dishes. My family didn’t eat together anymore, but when we had in the past it was either American or Indian food. Still, I was willing to try something new.

  The wait staff brought out a tray of what looked like fried mushrooms with gravy. It didn’t look super appetizing, but Jeannette was watching me, so I smiled and pretended to be impressed.

  Mr. Johnson steepled his hands and gave me a smile.

  “So, Jasmine, I have some good news for you.”

  Good news? For me?

  “Andrew has probably informed you of our many connections in various industries?”

  He waited for me to nod before continuing.

  “And I’ve spoken to my primary care doctor over at New York General and she said she’d love to take on a summer intern. I told her of your goals and she’s agreed to meet with you to discuss some opportunities.”

  I swallowed, though I hadn’t eaten anything yet. My chest felt tight and my gut clenched to the point of nausea.

  This was it.

  This was where I revealed myself to Andrew and his family. Three sets of eyes watched me closely, waiting for my reaction.

  It would have been easy to just thank him and never call the doctor. The smart thing would’ve been to continue to lie. But I needed to stop trying to live up to their standards and just start trying to live.

  So, I did the thing I should have done in the beginning. I told the truth.

  “Thank you so much for the offer, Mr. Johnson, but I already have a summer internship.”

  “Oh.”

  Mr. Johnson took a brief sip of his water. “Well, that’s unfortunate. Dr. Geese was really looking forward to seeing you.”

  “I’m sorry. If I had known I would have told you sooner.”

  He held up his hand. “No worries, my dear. That’s what I get for being presumptuous.”

  He looked a little embarrassed and I immediately felt bad. But this was the right thing to do. Telling the truth was always the right thing to do.