I’ve come to believe that being killed by a car wasn’t justice, but the result of pure hatred. Why Kenneth thought he could solve his problems by running the man down, I’ll probably never know. I considered asking if I could speak to him, but Ms. Cain preempted my request by stating in no uncertain terms was I to interact with him at all. Ever. She’s probably right.
“Last question. Yes, sir,” Ms. Cain points to a journalist standing in the back of the pack. He steps forward, greedy eyes fixed on me.
My stomach churns, hoping to get this question over quickly so I can get back to the privacy of school. After the day I’ve had, there’s no way Adrienne can deny me some raspberry cheesecake macarons. Taking a deep, calming breath, I focus on him.
“There are rumors that Professor Rook was selling drugs to students on campus. Is it true that you were a customer of his?”
The resulting clamor from every person on this sidewalk is the stuff of nightmares. Specifically, mine.
No, no, no, no, no. My heart jumps into my throat as I struggle to keep my composure. God help me, my mouth almost drops open. It’s only by the grace of the hundreds of hours I’ve spent perfecting my politician’s smile that I control my features.
Daddy’s nostrils flare. His only tell.
Ms. Cain immediately steps forward, holding up a hand. “No comment. No more questions, please. Good day, everyone.” She’s kind but firm. Exactly what we need right now.
“So this isn’t your mint tin with amphetamines inside?” The journalist holds up a photo of a breath mint tin containing three tiny white pills.
My hand rises unbidden toward the photo before I jerk it back.
Daddy flinches. Actually flinches.
Ms. Cain shuts the journalist down with a quick, “No comment,” but it doesn’t matter.
My mind is racing. The tin in the photo looked just like mine. How did that journalist get that photo? I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from cursing. I should have thrown those stupid pills out when I had the chance. Now those three tiny discs might be enough to end me.
Bodyguard Steve ushers the three of us to the car as the rapid-fire questions of the rabid rabble rise in the air like smoke, choking out all other noise. Pointed, jagged questions prick at my skin, making tiny holes in my armor that threaten to expand. Expose the soft belly of my reputation to the killers behind us.
It doesn’t matter that I didn’t answer that final, fateful question. The story will be out in a matter of minutes, my hesitation the only corroboration the journalist needs to smear my name to high heaven.
Daddy turns to me as soon as the car turns the first corner. “Drugs? Is that true, Charlotte?”
I squirm under his intense gaze, wishing there was any answer I could give besides the one I’m about to utter. But lying would be fruitless. The confirmation of my unworthiness has already been planted in his mind.
“Yes, it’s true. But before you yell at me, please let me explain.”
My stepfather’s mouth snaps shut as his nostrils flare.
I close my eyes and take a moment to corral my spiderwebbing thoughts. When I open them, I speak. “It’s true that I purchased small amounts of amphetamines from Professor Rook, beginning last spring and through last semester. You have to understand, the pressure on me at school to do well in my classes is colossal. As is the pressure I’m under as your daughter to cultivate a certain public image. I’m not trying to blame you. I take full responsibility. But sometimes, I just needed a little boost of energy to get my work done. That’s all. I’m not addicted to them or anything. I haven’t actually taken any of the pills since early last semester.”
In the front seat, Ms. Cain is taking notes in her phone.
Daddy exhales through his nose. “Then why did you still have them in your possession?”
Heat fills my cheeks. “I kept them just in case. Kind of like a safety net, even though I knew I’d never use them. I thought they were still in my desk drawer. I don’t know how that journalist got that photo.”
“Check your desk as soon as we arrive at the academy. If the tin is still there, dispose of it immediately.” Ms. Cain waits for me to meet her gaze before nodding decisively.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Daddy turns toward the window, muttering to himself. Something about “trouble” and “Cal.”