Translation: she’d gotten one of our security guys to drive her.
“So you lied?”
Matilda nodded, her dark hair shifting. “Yes.”
“Why did you lie?”
“My aunt isn’t answering my texts.”
Oh. “Diana is the Head of the House. She might be busy.”
“She tells me when she is busy. This morning, she went to see Augustine Montgomery, and now she is not answering my texts. You also go to see Augustine Montgomery. Frequently.”
I knew Matilda was spying on us. I just didn’t realize how thorough she was.
“Who is this Augustine?” Tia asked.
“I’m doing an internship with MII. He owns MII.”
“That tells me nothing.”
I pulled up the picture of Augustine poised against the cobalt glass tower of the MII building and showed it to Tia.
Her eyes widened. “Whoa.”
“What is an internship?” Matilda asked.
“I work for Augustine investigating cases to get experience.”
“Why are you doing an internship?”
“Better question: why amInot doing an internship?” Tia muttered.
If she wanted to do an internship with MII, it wouldn’t be a bad place. Augustine was super safe to crush on even for high school girls. Not only he was god-tier handsome, but he was also too old and therefore off-limits, and he was 100% above board. He would never creep or lech. And if any of his employees tried something, they would be instantly fired.
Matilda was waiting for my response.
I sighed. “I want to go to a special college. My grades aren’t good enough, so I have to work extra to get accepted.”
Matilda thought this over. “Why didn’t you tell anybody about the internship?”
“You think I didn’t tell anybody. You are mistaken. I told Nevada. Ha!”
Matilda frowned. “But you didn’t tell Ms. Penelope.”
“No.” Sometimes talking with Matilda was like conversing with a very old, sage witch that somehow ended up in the body of a nine-year old.
“Why?”
“My mom hates Augustine and doesn’t trust him. If she knew I was doing an internship at MII, she would try to talk me out of it, and then she would stress out about my safety. I don’t want her to worry.”
Matilda nodded.
“Also, when I was much younger, I told my mom that it was her fault that my grades were bad, because she didn’t pay enough attention to me. It wasn’t true. My grades were bad because I didn’t care. But I was angry at the time, and I didn’twant to be in trouble. It upset my mom. I don’t want her to know that my grades aren’t enough because she might blame herself.”
And that just kind of flopped out. Great going, me. It had been eating at me for weeks, ever since I secretly started the Path to College. Here I was, baring my soul to a girl I just met and to Matilda. Awesome. Just awesome. Maybe it was the lack of sleep.
“What’s your GPA?” Tia asked.
