I’ve slotted you into American Studies and Philosophy of Mindfulness. In science and math, you should be able to continue on with your current course of study, assuming our course load doesn’t prove to be too much.” Dr. McGowan took a sip of her coffee. I did the same. It was just as good as Thea had promised it would be, and that made me wonder how much truth there was to the rest of what she’d said.
It must be hard living in that house with those boys.
They were a twisted, broken mess before you got here, and they’ll be a twisted, broken mess once you’re gone.
“Now,” Dr. Mac—as she’d insisted on being called—continued, “in terms of electives, I would suggest Making Meaning, which focuses on the study of how meaning is conveyed through the arts and includes a strong component of civic engagement with local museums, artists, theater productions, the ballet company, the opera, and so on. Given the support the Hawthorne Foundation has traditionally provided to these endeavors, I believe you will find the course… useful.”
The Hawthorne Foundation? I managed—just barely—to avoid repeating the words.
“Now, for the rest of your schedule, I will need you to tell me a bit about your plans for the future. What are you passionate about, Avery?”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her what I’d told Principal Altman. I was a girl with a plan—but that plan had always been driven by practicalities. I’d picked a college major that would get me a solid job. The practical thing to do now was stay the course. This school had to have more resources than my old one. They could help me game standardized tests, maximize the college credit I received in high school, put me in the perfect position to finish college in three years instead of four. If I played my cards right, even if Zara and her husband somehow ended up undoing what
Tobias Hawthorne had done, I could come out ahead.
But Dr. Mac hadn’t just asked about my plans. She’d asked what I was passionate about, and even if the Hawthorne family did manage to successfully challenge the will, I’d probably still get a payout. How many millions of dollars might they be willing to pay me just to go away? Worse came to worst, I could probably sell my story for more than enough to pay for college.
“Travel,” I blurted out. “I’ve always wanted to travel.”
“Why?” Dr. Mac peered at me. “What is it that attracts you to other places? The art? The history? The peoples and their cultures? Or are you drawn to the marvels of the natural world? Do you want to see mountains and cliffs, oceans and giant sequoia trees, the rain forest—”
“Yes,” I said fiercely. I could feel tears stinging in my eyes, and I wasn’t entirely sure why. “To all of it. Yes.”
Dr. Mac reached out and took my hand. “I’ll get you a list of electives to look at,” she said softly. “I understand that study abroad won’t be an option for the next year, due to your rather unique circumstances, but we have some marvelous programs you might consider thereafter. You might even entertain the idea of delaying graduation a bit.”
If someone had told me a week earlier that there was anything that could tempt me to stay in high school even a minute longer than necessary, I would have thought they were delusional. But this wasn’t a normal school.
Nothing about my life was normal anymore.
