Chapter One: In Exile
The dean folded his hands on the top of his desk and leaned over to peer sternly down at me. "Miss Castle, I have seen you in my office a countless number of times in the past month."
I shrugged, staring back at him. He was like Humpty Dumpty- you know, the huge egg that sits on the wall, and then falls and dies? He looked the part, too, in a tie that appeared to be half-choking him that made his face turn the most attractive shade of red.
Too late, I realized that he had said something else to me, that I'd missed. I looked at him blankly, to which he responded with an exasperated sigh. "I said that I do not want to see you in my office again. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," I answered easily, before getting up to leave.
"Miss Castle." His grating voice stopped me. I considered ignoring it, but reluctantly decided that it would cause more trouble than it was worth. Turning around slowly, I caught his eyes rolling up, as if to pray for assistance. "I'm not finished speaking to you yet. Sit down."
I pointedly remained standing, staring at him unblinkingly. It wasn't an act of open defiance towards authority or anything as fashionable as that—I reserve that kind of mentality for those teenagers who think they're really something special—but just because I wanted to see his reaction. Would his face get any redder? Was that even possible? Surely, he wouldn't have a seizure just because—
"Miss Castle. I am completely serious, sit down." He didn't turn redder, but his body mass seemed to have increased a few inches. Either that, or the collar of his shirt had shrunk. Either way, he had to yank on his necktie in order to be able to breathe.
Well, that was interesting, but nobody's ever said that I was in the habit of "attituding" authority to death. I sat down promptly, giving him a sweet smile.
He sighed heavily, yanking even harder on the necktie. The red bulbous nose of his had swollen to the size of a golf ball, and he clenched his teeth. "Miss Castle," he began carefully, patiently, "I know that you are an intelligent young woman, so I will speak frankly with you." He seemed to be waiting for a response from me with that statement- and truly, I didn't know what to say. Was I supposed to thank him? Ask him not to? I settled for a safe "Okay."
The dean looked a bit let down at not being able to elicit his preferred response from me, but continued. "You are a gifted student, and so it would be a pity to lose you."
I didn't like where this was going.
He went on, "However, I must say that you are more of a hindrance than an asset nowadays. I've had myriad complaints about you from some of your teachers, and I've seen you yourself in this office too many times. I am simply out of my wits as to a solution to this problem."
"Oh, so now I'm a problem?" I inquired. After all, there were plenty of those around here- druggies, cheaters, pure idiots. Why didn't he concern himself with those people- especially the latter? After all, it couldn't have been pleasant for those simple-minded people to function with half a brain missing.
"Frankly speaking, Aubrey, yes, you have become somewhat of a problem. Your teachers complain that you are unbearably rude and inconsiderate, and I simply cannot condone this kind of behavior in my school. One teacher went as far as to request that you be dropped from his class…" He trailed off, but I snorted.
"I don't care if you drop me," I said. " Moore's class is useless, anyhow."
"Mister Moore," Dean Meedle barked. "And I don't see how AP Chemistry could be useless… but I digress. Aubrey, I'm quite serious here—one more misdemeanor and I will exercise my prerogative as your principal and ask you to leave."
"You mean, you're going to expel me?" I was shocked; I hadn't expected this twist at all. Suspension, sure, not like I hadn't gotten those before—and truthfully, a brief hiatus from school would be welcome. But expulsion? That was pretty cold.
"If you do not wish to be expelled, toe the line, Miss Castle, and we will have no cause to. Is that clear?" He didn't wait for a response before turning to resume work on his desk. "You are excused to go back to class," he added as an afterthought, no doubt wanting me to get out of his precious office.
Gladly.
I walked into AP Chemistry forty minutes after class had started. Moore paused in his lecture, setting down the marker.
"Is there a reason why you are late for class, again?" He asked in a snarky tone.
I shrugged, walking towards the back where a few empty desks stood.
"Miss Castle, when I ask you a question, I expect you to answer it," he said, no doubt not meaning to sound like a fifty year old woman- but succeeding anyhow. I decided to keep this to myself.
Instead, I replied, "I was in the dean's office, not that it was any of your business." I dumped my stuff on the desk and fell into the chair, immediately putting my head down and hoping against hope that he'd accept the reason and move on with life.
Who was I kidding?
" Miss Castle, pull your head up and look at me," Moore demanded.
Well, if you say so. I turned my head partly to stare back at him, silently counting the number of blemishes on his face. The black hair, oily skin of a trouble skinned-teenager and extremely unattractive facial features painted such a lurid picture that I inwardly shuddered. If chocolate really caused breakouts, Moore was the epitome of decadence.
"…Chemistry?" He just finished saying.
Not that I was making a habit of missing what people were saying, but it did appear to be happening an awful lot lately. He seemed to be waiting for an answer, one that I did not have. It probably wasn't important, though- something like, How dare you miss out on a half hour of my class, as we all know very well that Chemistry is the essence of life? or some such nonsense.
His skin was hideous, with acne scars from his teenage years that, no doubt, had bought him countless hours of teasing. His skin was also dotted with moles and blemishes, more appropriate on the face of a teenager than a forty-something year old man who should have outgrown such problems. I wondered if he'd be offended if I offered to pay for some of his cosmetic surgery. He probably would… people were dumb in that way, being so ultra-paranoid. If somebody offered me free plastic surgery, I'd jump for it in a heartbeat.
"…to moles?" Moore asked.
He was reading my mind! Almost scary, but this was good. I didn't have to bring it up and risk offending him; he was the one that asked me instead!
"Absolutely! I know this great derma, she's really excellent with lasers, so you won't have to worry about scars. I mean, not that it'd make a difference anyway. I mean, not that you have … horrible skin or anything…" I paused, belatedly aware that the entire classroom was dead silent. And this, ladies and gentlemen, simply is not a good sign in a room with great acoustics, housing fifteen hormonal teenagers.
I made the mistake of looking up into his face where a terrible expression lay. I'm not a horrible person, really- I just have the habit of putting my foot in my mouth often. It's just in a very snide manner that people think that I have a horrible attitude problem. In reality, I just speak before I think.
Well, sometimes.
The classroom was still dead silent, and he seemed to be waiting for me to say something. "Um, you asked me about moles?" I offered lamely, at last.
"Out!" He roared.
Well, fuck me.
I could hardly wait to witness the dean's reaction to my return to his office mere minutes after he had sent me out with a warning not to return. I was sure that he'd be just thrilled to have my company… I could only hope that he wouldn't follow through on his threat of expelling himself and this school of my presence.
I sighed as I meandered down the hallway, trying to put off the inevitable confrontation. He'd give me some drivel about disappointment and not performing up to expectations and whatnot. But in the end, he wouldn't have the guts to expel me, really. His threats were a bargaining tool of a sort from what I'd surmised; he'd been threatening me ever since freshman year, and hadn't really done much about it. True, the threats were of a lesser consequence, but the principle of the matter was the same.
Finding myself at the door, I pulled it open and walked upstairs, tracing my footsteps from ten minutes ago. The door to his private office was propped open, and from where I was standing, I could see the dean hard at work, staring at his computer screen. When I tapped on the door, his head drew up and his eyes widened as he saw me standing there.
I walked in and sat in a chair placed strategically before his massive desk. The view was one that was extremely familiar to me, seeing as how I spent most of my daytime hours in either this or the detention room.
"Hello," I ventured to say, since he apparently wasn't going to speak to me.
"Aubrey Castle," he said after a long pause. "Aubrey Castle. What did I tell you, not ten minutes ago?"
"Yeah, well, Moore's a paranoid little—"
The dean cleared his throat but said nothing else, allowing his anger to permeate throughout the room. It was clearly a ploy designed to intimidate the more domineer-able students, but unfortunately for him, I doubted that I was one of those.
He pushed his desk phone towards me. "Call your parents," he said. "Call your parents right now, and let them know that they must come up to school to discuss your education in the future."
"Discuss my—you cannot be serious!" I stared at him with my mouth no doubt hanging open, wondering what to do about this new development. I'd never, ever stopped to consider that I'd be expelled for being, well, tactless. All that he'd said up to now was pure nonsense; he'd bluster and protest, but when it came down to it, I'd get away with a detention or two. However, at those times he'd pulled out the holier-than-thou attitude and bombastic way of speaking, but his behavior right now was something new and I didn't know what to make of it. Was it another threat, or was I really supposed to call my parents?
I looked up to catch his straight look. He nodded at the phone and I took that as a message to begin to dial. However, I didn't see how it would be possible.
"My parents are at work," I reminded him. "They won't be able to come here right now—or ever, as a matter of fact. Unless you want to meet either of them after eleven or twelve o'clock at night."
"I'll take my chances," he said calmly. "This is important. Call them."
Shrugging, clearly indicating that it was his funeral, I pressed the speakerphone button before dialing my mother's office number.
"Castle, Downs and Salhoun Law Firm, Katherine Castle's office, how many I help you?" An unfamiliar voice rattled off the words—not surprising, as my mother went through secretaries faster than I went through clean socks.
"Hi, this is Aubrey. Is she in?" I asked, stealing a glance up at the principal. He was pretending not to listen but so obviously was, his ear cocked in the direction of the phone.
"I'm sorry, who is this?" The secretary sounded vaguely annoyed at me, but that wasn't surprising either; I'd be short-tempered if I had to work with my mother day after day.
"Aubrey. Her daughter. I'd like to speak to my mother, please." I repeated.
The secretary sighed. "She's just getting ready to go to court right now… it's not really a good time."
"This is apparently more important," I reinforced, shooting a glare to the principal. After all, it was completely his fault that I had had to call my mother and deal with incompetent secretaries and the like.
She sighed again. "I'll see what I can do."
There was a pause as tinny elevator music played for a full minute, before somebody picked up the phone on the other line. "Yes, Aubrey? How many times must I tell you, not to call me during business hours? I'm just off to court right now! What do you want?" My affectionate and caring mother cooed lovingly.
I could count on one finger the number of times that I had called her during "business" hours, which truthfully ran from 7 A.M. to 1 A.M. Well, technically, it was a 9-5 workday for her, but more often than not, she'd be at the office. In fact, I hardly saw her more than once or twice a week.
"Look, the dean's demanding that you come to see him right now or something," I informed her flatly, my tone clearly saying that I was just about as thrilled about this as she was.
"I've told you already, Aubrey, I have a trial to get to in half an hour. I do not have the time to put up with this school nonsense," She dismissed my entire future with a sentence. "Now, if that's all—"
I looked up to the principal again, who had given up all pretexts of not listening. He looked pointedly at the clock, and back at the phone.
"Look, I'm not exactly dying for your company here. But Doctor Meedle's insisting that you get here now, and you can deal with him if you aren't coming."
I pushed the phone towards him, leaning back into my chair. He cleared his throat before picking up the receiver and speaking.
"Hello, Mrs. Castle. This is Dean Meedle at Oxford Academy. I understand that you have conflicts at the time, and I apologize for interrupting you," he began, obviously trying to ameliorate her mood. I could have told him then and there, but it wasn't worth the effort, but I didn't really feel like making things easier for him. "However, I must insist that a parent come to retrieve Aubrey and speak to me about her future."
He listened for a moment longer, no doubt listening to my mother bite his ear off, before pushing the phone base and receiver towards me. "She wishes to speak to you," he whispered.
I smothered a laugh at the way he was truly cowed, but picked up the receiver again. "Yeah?"
"Call your father," she ordered. "I can't be bothered with this right now."
"Dad's in Japan," I reminded her.
She heaved a big sigh. "And this really can't wait until later?" She demanded, but continued without waiting for a response. "I'll have to hand off this case to one of the associates… you're extremely lucky, Aubrey, that it isn't a critical one, or you'd be in that office until your father got back from Japan."
She hung up without a good-bye, which was typical of her.
"So," I said after a stillness had descended in the room, "how about them Lakers?"
It was forty minutes of stilted conversation and heavy silences before my mother blew into the room, dressed immaculately as always in one of her customary going-to-court suits.
"What was so important that required my presence here?" She demanded as she stalked into the room.
The principal stood, but I could see him visibly wilting at such a strong personality. "Please, take a seat, Mrs. Castle. I apologize for asking you to come here, but—"
"Yes, yes," she interrupted impatiently. "What is it? I have a case hearing in an hour, so let's get this done."
"Well, the fact of the matter is, I regret to inform you that I must ask Aubrey to leave this school," he said as though he wouldn't be glad to see the last of me—that sneak.
"Leave this—" I could see my mother mentally take a step back and reassess this situation. "Now, Doctor Meedle, I'm sure this is a great misunderstanding," she exhorted with a smile, completely changing gears. "Surely this is extremely precipitate?"
He looked swayed for a second, before glancing back at the computer screen. Wondering what it was that he was looking at, I leaned to my right casually but the screen was turned completely away from me.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Castle, but we simply cannot tolerate this kind of behavior any longer. Aubrey has had twenty-four detentions- in the past two weeks! This is simply unacceptable."
It was my record that he was looking at! What a jerk.
I saw my mother glance at the clock again, gauging whether arguing my case and getting him to agree to keep me at Oxford Academy was more important to her than her upcoming case hearing.
I knew what she'd decide even before she said anything, though.
"Well, what a pity," she shrugged it off, having reverted back to her usual brusque style. "If that's it, then I must be leaving. Aubrey… finish whatever you need to do here before you get home. We'll have to talk about this with your father."
Lovely.
Boarding school.
They were going to send me to boarding school. Are you aware of what kind of … stuff goes on in those places? I'm not a homophobe, but spending my life in an institution where the general sexual orientation does not correspond with my favoring does not sound very enjoyable to me.
And no, by the way, not just any boarding school. No, they were going to send me to a boarding school out of the country.
I managed to talk them out of it. It wasn't easy, but I had the death sentence shortened, just a little bit. Boarding school, no. Out of the country, yes. I couldn't get out of that one.
I was to live in England with my father's colleague's sister's cousin's neighbor's babysitter's whatever, attending some posh prep school-type of thing. Do they even have prep schools in England? Who knows.
I wasn't particularly looking forward to this. My lifestyle was set already, and I was comfortable where I was. It hardly pleased me to be relocated in the middle of my high school career.
And England? What the hell is in England?
I'll tell you what is in England. The Spice Girls are in England. Cows are in England. Spotted dick is in England. Give me a break.
I offered to attempt to expiate my sins. Community service. Cleaning the house. Mowing the lawn, for fuck's sake. But no, I was shot down on everything. I enjoined my parents against sending me away—they ignored me. I tried to wheedle my parents into at least sending me somewhere within the country—they mentioned something about acculturation and how I'd "love to live in a foreign country with different customs."
"It'll be good for you, Aubrey," my father explained. "You'll love it! I quite enjoy Europe."
I laughed, as this just showed how well my father knew me. Truthfully, I disliked even the most nominal changes in my life. Permanently moving to a different country was hardly trifling.
Before I had a chance to refute that argument, though, my mother had to run to make her next debriefing and my father had a meeting with Corporate America.
He did stick his head back in the door to tell me when I was leaving, though.
"Helen spoke to the family that you'll be living with," he explained. How heartening- he hadn't even made sure that I wouldn't be living with a houseful of lunatics, but deigned that responsibility as a parent onto his secretary.
"And she said that they sound very nice. Their summer holidays are ending, and their school begins next week, so just make sure you're there by then. Ask Helen to book you a ticket; she'll know what to take care of. Go ahead and leave me a message at the office before you leave, Aubrey!" With that he vanished off before I could bite off a vitriolic reply, not particularly caring that he probably wouldn't be seeing me for a year or so.
It's good to know that love still exists in this otherwise cruel, cruel world.
NOTE: To be honest, I don't know how many of my readers (quote unquote, seriously) have stuck around thus far. I'm lame, but I am also working on BT. This one's been in my brain for ages, so I'm not likely to give up on it. I hope you liked it!