“Yes, Mena?” he asks. I’m surprised by his annoyed tone.
“May I go back to my room?” I ask. “My parents aren’t here, and I have a headache.”
He looks me over doubtfully. “Could it be from the wine?” he asks, disapproval thick in his voice. When my lips part, he turns back to the party. “Sure, go ahead,” he says.
“Thank you,” I say. Guardian Bose waves me along, impatient.
I start down the hallway, where the lights are turned low, shadows dancing along the wall. It’s quiet—eerily so, considering the noise from the party is still echoing in my ears. Or maybe that’s from the wine I drank.
I turn the first corner and pause to rest my hand on the wood wainscoting, trying to let my head catch up with my movements. Now that I’m away from stimuli, the buzz has gotten stronger. I’m decidedly not a fan of alcohol. At least, not a fan of drinking it so quickly.
There’s a sound from one of the alcoves, followed by a high-pitched giggle. It’s so disconcerting, so out of place in this dark hallway, that I peek around the corner to look in.
The first thing I notice is the pale leg of a girl, but I can’t see her face. A man is pressing her back into the couch, half on top of her as they kiss. The girl’s profile comes into view, and I recognize Rebecca Hunt.
I swing back around the wall, holding my breath and hoping they didn’t see me. I can hear the smacking of their lips, the heavy breathing. And the man she’s with—I’m not sure, but I think he’s her family’s lawyer. The person who handled her admission here, who attends the open houses with her.
“I want to go home, Mr. Wolfe,” I hear Rebecca whisper.
“Soon,” he tells her. Another kiss. “Soon, I promise.”
“You promised before.When?”
The kissing stops, and instead there is the rustling of clothing, the creak of the couch as someone stands.
“I understand you want to go home,” the lawyer says, his tone suddenly all business. “But your parents expect a graduated girl. Withdrawing you early will—”
“You told me you’d speak to them,” she says. “You promised. But I haven’t heard from them in months.”
“You’ll do as you’re told,” he says. “Your parents have put me in charge of your education. They can’t know about our... meetings,” he says with a hint of disgust. I blink quickly, offended by his tone.
“Of course,” Rebecca says, a frantic edge to her voice. “I won’t tell them. I promise. But why haven’t they come to get me?”
“Because I never advised them on the matter,” the lawyer says, matter-of-factly.
“But... youpromised,” Rebecca says, her voice cracking.
“You should be glad,” Mr. Wolfe snaps. “You have no idea what you’ll be going home to.”
“Carlyle,” she pleads, using his first name. There is a loud crack, and Rebecca gasps.
I press my hand over my mouth, sure that he slapped her. Impulsively, I push off the wall to intervene.
“Please don’t go, Mr. Wolfe,” Rebecca begs, and I stop my approach. “I didn’t mean to be rude,” she says. “I just want to go home.”
“Don’t ever disrespect me again,” Mr. Wolfe says. There’s an authoritative pitch in his voice, like he won the argument. “I suggest you keep a positive attitude, Rebecca. It’s only a few months until graduation. We’ll continue our meetings until then. Understood?”
“Yes,” she says, defeated. “Thank you.”
I hear them move, the kiss goodbye, and I hide against the wall as he walks out and heads back toward the party. When he’s gone, I slip inside the alcove and find Rebecca on the couch, applying foundation from a compact to her reddened cheek.
“Rebecca?” I whisper. She jumps, startled.
“Mena,” she says. “What are you doing here?” She clicks the compact closed and sets it back inside her clutch. She seems horrified that I’m in her space.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to listen, but I heard what Mr. Wolfe—”
“I shouldn’t have disrespected him,” she says immediately, embarrassed. “I was out of line, and he redirected me.”
