“Renée,” he said, almost warmly, “come in.” He motioned to the sofa across from him.
He was outfitted in trousers and a dinner jacket, with one of the French-cuffed shirts that Dustin starched and ironed every night. His thinning white hair, which was normally impeccably groomed, was tousled on the side, from leaning his head on his hand, I guessed. He took a sip of water, and I braced myself for punishment.
“Please sit,” he said.
Dustin pulled out a chair for me and produced a napkin and place setting.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about your situation,” my grandfather continued.
I fidgeted with my shorts while he spoke, and studied his large, ruddy nose—a nose so massive that it seemed impossible for it to have ever existed on a younger person’s face.
“And I have decided to send you to school.”
I shook my head. “What? But I’m already in school.”
“This is a boarding school. And an elite one at that.”
I stood up in shock. My entire life was here: Annie, my friends, my teachers, the people I grew up with. They were all I had left. I was about to begin my sophomore year, and I had just made the varsity lacrosse team and gotten into AP History, which was normally closed off to sophomores. And of course there was Wes....
“But you can’t!” I cried, though I wasn’t so sure. How could he make me leave when my life was just beginning?
He clasped his hands over one knee. “It’s high time you got an actual education. A classical education. I’ve seen how schools these days operate, letting young people choose what they want and don’t want to study. It’s an ineffective method that has been disproven over and over again. Gottfried Academy has been around for centuries. I’m sure it will provide you with the same strong foundation that your mother had.”
I meant to interrupt him, but when he mentioned my mother, I went quiet. I didn’t know that she had gone to boarding school. She had told me stories about her childhood, about high school, and about how she met my dad, but she’d never told me that she went to boarding school, or that it was prestigious. My dad had to have gone there too, since they’d met in English class. Why would she omit those details?
“I’m not going,” I said defiantly. “You can’t make me.”
He sighed and shook his head. “On the contrary, I can. Your parents entrusted me with your safety, as stipulated in their wills. As your primary guardian, it’s my responsibility to do what I think is best for your future.”
“But they hated you. Even when they were alive they wouldn’t let you see me. So how can you possibly think you know what’s best for me? You don’t know anything about me.”
“That may be the case,” he said quietly, “yet the fact still remains that I am your grandfather, and you are a minor. I know more about you than you know about yourself. Now, sit down. Please.”
I cringed and sank into my seat.
“Whether you like it or not, I am your legal guardian, and you’re going to Gottfried. Now, I’m going to speak plainly and clearly. You are not safe here, Renée.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your parents died. I don’t know why or how or by whom, but it certainly was not by natural causes.”
“But the police said—”
“The police believe that they both had some sort of heart attack. Do you think that’s true?”
“No.”
“Neither do I.”
“So … so what, then. You think someone murdered them? That someone chased them into the woods and killed them?”
My grandfather shook his head, his jowls quivering. “I don’t know, Renée. I only know that it wasn’t an accident. Which is why we have to leave.”
My mind raced through all of my options. I could run away, stay with Annie and her parents. Or I could just leave and never come back, live in a train like the boxcar children so my grandfather couldn’t find me. I had to talk to Annie. Maybe she could help me convince her mom to adopt me.
My grandfather must have sensed my dissent. “We depart tomorrow morning. I will physically place you in the car if necessary.”
“Tomorrow? I can’t leave tomorrow. What about my friends?”