“Yeah, but she never drove.” I pause. “How’d you know she had a license?”
“I just assumed. It’s unusual not to have one. I’ll have my assistant find some driving schools and set something up.”
“Um, could we hold off on that? I’m fine just catching a ride with someone.”
“Are you afraid to drive?”
“I’m not afraid,” I say. “I just don’t need to rush into taking driving lessons. I have enough to deal with between moving here and starting a new school. I don’t need to add anything else.”
“I think it’d be better not to wait but it’s up to you.”
“I’d rather wait. And I want to go to public school, not private.”
“That’s not an option.” He waves at a busboy walking by. “I need another napkin.”
The guy nods and continues walking.
“Why isn’t it an option?” I ask.
“Because celebrities send their children to private schools. We wouldn’t even consider public.”
Private school? Is he kidding? That’s a whole new level of hell I wasn’t expecting.
Chapter 3
“I’m not your child,” I say. “I’m your niece.”
Brock glances to the side, looking for the busboy who was supposed to bring the napkin. “Service these days is ridiculously bad.”
“Nobody cares where your niece goes to school,” I say, trying to focus him back on our conversation.
“I’m your guardian,” he says, looking back at me. “Acting as your surrogate parent, so yes, it’s unacceptable to send you to public school. Even if didn’t affect my reputation, public school would destroy you. The kids there would bully you for having money and a famous father.”
“My dad isn’t famous. He’s been on a few TV shows, and he was a side character.”
“Regardless, the students would do whatever it took to drive you out of there.”
“I’m not afraid of them. I’m a New Yorker.”
“This isn’t up for debate. You’re going to Twisted Pine Academy. End of discussion.”
“Twisted Pine? That’s the name? What the hell? Are we going to learn spells and incantations?”
He chuckles. “Funny I’ve never thought of it that way. ‘Twisted Pine’ refers to the trees in the area. Years ago, pine trees covered much of southern California. In the location where they built the school, one of the pine trees had a twisted trunk. The tree has since died but there’s a photo of it in the school lobby.”
“They named the school after a tree? That’s kinda lame.”
“The school’s founder loved trees. He traveled the world taking pictures of different types. When he bought the land to build the school and saw the twisted pine, he took it as a sign that should be the name.”
“How do you know all this?”
“They tell the story every year in parent orientation. I’ve heard it enough times to remember every detail. I spared you the long version.”
A man appears with our food.
“Grilled salmon,” he says, placing it in front of Brock. “And kale salad.” He sets a bowl of green leaves in front of me. “Enjoy.”
The busboy races over. “Your napkin.” He hands it to Brock, then hurries off.
