“Don’t worry about that,” he tells me firmly. Then he points to the door behind me. It’s opposite the one he came out of. “Lounge is through there.”
“Thanks,” I mumble and then hastily add, “Sir.”
“Please, outside of school call me Monty.”
I cringe a little, but it’s better than calling him Headmaster or Principal Knox. I think. At least he didn’t say to call him daddy. Ick.
I wander into the sitting room and have a good nosey around. The room’s empty, so why not? The house is nicer than any I’ve ever stepped foot in before. I’m sure it’s not dead posh, by some standards, but I’m pretty awe-struck. I think our whole house back home could have fit inside this room alone. I hate that. How is it fair that some people work and work and have nothing? Whilst others like my incubator sell their pussy for a more luxurious lifestyle? My fingers itch to break shit.
I walk about the room taking in the opulent and sumptuous furnishings. Everything is cream, soft, velvety. I’m almost scared to touch shit in case I leave marks behind, but then I think fuck it, and try to dirty the place up a bit. I leave handprints on the widescreen tv. It’s stupidly big. More than anyone could ever need. Pointless. There are family photos dotted everywhere. The boys. Monty and the boys. Monty and the incubator. Incubator on her own. There’s only one photo, a ginormous thing that hangs over the fireplace, that depicts the ‘whole’ family together.Monty and his mistress beam down on me, whilst Sawyer smiles tightly. It’s not a genuine smile - not like I experienced on Friday - it doesn’t reach his eyes. Kalen looks miserable and the twins...well, they look about ready to commit murder. Interesting.
Maybe the perfect little Knox family isn’t as perfect as the incubator has been making out. I sorely hope so. I smell dirt; and I love to dig. I won’t stop until I find something I can use to tear this family apart, like the incubator did to me. If it takes me a while to get expelled and sent home, good; it just gives me longer to wreck her life.
Interspersed on all the hard surfaces between the photos, is a myriad of expensive looking cut crystal. Goblets, vases, bowls. I’m just about to reach out and ‘knock’ one over accidentally-on-purpose when the door opens and the incubator’s voice sharply rings out.
“Amelie? What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” I say sulkily, refusing to look at her.
“Well, dinner’s ready, so come on through to the dining room.” She turns on her heels and leaves, not even waiting for me. Gee, thanks,mother, throw me to the wolves much?
I pause outside of the dining room, nervous to enter. This is it, my identity will be revealed and there’ll be no hiding from anyone. I wonder how Sawyer will react. Will he out me in front of everyone? I wipe my sweaty palms on my black jeans. Then I lift my chin, throw my shoulders back and stroll into the dining room like I own it. Fake it til you make it, right?
“Everyone, this is Amelie,” Monty says, introducing me. “Amelie, these are my sons Kalen, the youngest - who you’ve met - and the twins, Slate and Onyx.”
“We’ve met,” I say darkly as their eyes come to rest on me. I have no qualms with telling daddy dearest about their attack in the study hall. Just not yet. Let them squirm a little.
“Oh! Excellent!” Monty beams, completely misreading my tone. Idiot probably thinks we’re all best buddies. “Well, now that everyone is introduced, would you like to take a seat, Amelie?”
I do, but quickly ask, “I thought you had four sons?”
“Ah yes, well Sawyer - my oldest son - is a little tied up on business today,” Monty clarifies.
“Oh? What does he do?” I play dumb.
“He’s a teacher at the academy.”
“And he’s working on a Sunday?” I raise an eyebrow disbelievingly. I smell bullshit.
“Didn’t you meet him at your detention yesterday?” Monty frowns.
“Nope,” is all I say with a grin. I reach over and help myself to the food that’s been heaped upon the table, piling my plate high. May as well eat a good meal; the food at school is shit, and eating a small amount won’t allow me to leave any earlier, so I may as well fill up.
“I love a girl with an appetite,” Kalen winks at me.
“May I have a cider please?” I ask looking at the green glass bottles in front of Kalen and the twins.
“No,” the incubator interrupts as Monty says “sure.”
“She’s not old enough, Monty.”
“Please! I’m eighteen in two days’ time!” I scoff. As if I’ve never had a drink before; I’ve been stealing booze from my uncle’s house since I could tie my own shoelaces - usually to give to my mother.
“So you can enjoy your first drink on Tuesday, with your family,” the incubator replies tartly and the twins snigger. Kalen looks interested to hear it’s my birthday soon. Maybe he has plans to help me celebrate in style.
“Amelie, why didn’t you see Sawyer at your detention?” Monty’s voice is firmer. Ah, so he’s back to playing headmaster now, not friendly step father. That didn’t last long.
“Because I didn’t go,”
