Twisted Lies by Nora Cobb
Chapter 32
Astrid
I learn nothing from Getz as he decides to play dumb after I ask him point-blank about the Pit. I don’t mention his name in the book, but we both know he’s lying when he claims not to understand my question. No reason to stay, so I take off, and the boys are gone. The hallways are empty of people, but I sort of expect to see them waiting outside of Oberlin Hall. Standing on the pathway, I scan the surroundings for their faces, but no one is around.
The relief of seeing no one feels as good as the chilly breeze on my warm cheeks. Dealing with people has become an unappealing pain in my ass. No one dared to ask about my date with Bryce except Roni. My vague answer ended her excitement, and she instantly backs away now from a toxic topic I don’t want to discuss. In fact, Bryce Shelton isn’t mentioned again.
It’s almost six, and I decide to skip the dining hall. I walk toward the dorm, but I head to the basement instead of going to my room. I slip the key to the old bathroom out of my backpack and into the lock.
Privacy is the only luxury I want. I open the door to the forgotten bathroom and find myself alone again. Thank God. I lock the door behind me, and even though that couch now looks gross to my eyes, I lie down on it, throwing a hand across my eyes. I moan as loud as I want and then giggle, wondering if anyone can hear me and if they now think the place is haunted.
Being alone is an excuse for my thoughts to start chattering in my head, and I can’t rest. There’s too much to do. I take my phone out and tap the screen, waiting for him to pick up.
“Dr. Howland, please.”
At first, I don’t understand why the nurse in the office is being difficult until the woman says she’s the answering service, not the office. The woman insists on taking my info before I hang up, and I don’t have to wait long for my phone to start vibrating. It’s a different number than the one I have, but I know it’s my father. The conversation competes with awkwardly loaded pauses. Obviously, phoning isn’t the best way of communicating with each other.
“Have you eaten dinner yet?” he asks.
“No, I didn’t eat yet,” I reply, “I’m tired, so I’m hiding out in the dorm.”
Another pause, and then he asks, “What do you mean by hiding out?”
I sit up straight as if he can see me lounging. “It’s an exaggeration.” My turn to pause. “I’d like to talk to you about that name thing.”
“Good,” he responds immediately, “I’ll send a car to pick you up.”
I picture another limo at the school gate, and for some reason, I panic because people might think it’s another date. “I can ride my bike or take an Uber,” I tell him hastily, “I really want to get out of here now.”
“Do you know where to go?” he asks, “Have you ever been to the house?”
“No.” It didn’t make sense to mention Charlotte’s old photo of the two of us standing on the front lawn when we were kids.
“Can you get to my office then?” He continues before I answer, “I’ll wait here for you.”
The days are short, and I have to use my phone to navigate my way out of the dark basement without falling over a pile of boxes. What is in those heavy cardboard boxes I keep banging into? Old crap former students didn’t want? Leaving out of the basement is simple, and soon I’m racing on my bike through downtown Rockingham. Even though I’m making good time, it’s not as quick as if I were in a car. When I try the door of the medical building, it’s locked, but there’s a doorbell. I wait, and when the door opens, it’s Dr. Howland on the other side. He looks me over as I watch him with big eyes.
He smiles slightly and takes my bike away from me, wheeling it down the hallway as I follow him to his office. The dimly lit space is empty as I wait for him to shut off the lights. The pauses that were odd over the phone are comfortable in person. We don’t need to speak because there’s no need to pretend this is social.
“We’ll eat at home,” he says as we take a back door out of the building.
He doesn’t notice my startled look as I realize he means his home. He walks over to a black town car, and I wait for him to unlock it, but he doesn’t. I almost swallow my tongue when a man jumps out of the driver’s side and opens the back door for us. I hold onto my chest for a second while I catch my breath, and Howland watches me. The corners of his eyes crease as his lips curve. It wasn’t that funny.
I hop into the car and slide across the seat as Howland gets in. No one talks, and no one seems to mind as the car drives along the residential streets. We’re going back toward Stonehaven, but the car turns into a gated community located in Rockingham called Alva Park. You must live here to enter, and from the gatehouse, a guard waves as the town car passes under a lifted beam into the park. I’ve lived in the area all my life, but I’ve never been inside Alva Park. The car passes an enormous brick mansion with turrets set back from the road surrounded by acres of grass.
“What’s that house?” I ask, craning my neck to get a better look.
“That’s a historical landmark,” he replies. “Marston Rockingham, our ancestor, built that house the same year he built the general hospital. He used the same red brick for both buildings.”
“You own that house?” I gawk at Howland with wide eyes.
He smiles. “The state currently owns the house, and it’s open to the public for tours. We’ll go one day. I want you to learn more about your history.”
The town car pulls up to a white mansion with columns identical to the ones at Stonehaven, but the house itself isn’t made of red brick. It has a smooth white texture but not shingles or brick. It’s also closer to neighboring homes, meaning we could see the neighbors on their front lawns, but we’d have to holler if we want to talk to them. I can’t imagine Howland yelling at anyone or waving hello.
I wait for the car door to open and follow Howland up the path to the mansion. He walks perfectly straight, as if the air surrounding his body possesses weight as he glides through it. His frame is thin and lanky, an older version of Justin. And it’s obvious where I get my long legs from.
“Did you run track?” I ask him.
“Yes.” He smiles. “I ran track throughout my years at Stonehaven.”
He waits for the driver to open the front door. It messes with my mind that he doesn’t open the door to his own home himself. The door is swung open wide, and they wait for me to enter first. I only walk a few steps in when my feet stick to the floor in shock. The interior is massive for one family and oddly reminds me of Foxworth House. The wooden staircase winds upward to the second floor, and I’ve never seen a window on a stairwell before; well, not like this one. The window has drapes. Through the archway on my left is the living room, but it’s a wreck with paint cans strewn about on plastic and all the furniture covered. Dr. Howland leads me past the room and into the adjoining dining room. The driver hurries toward a chair, but Dr. Howland shakes his head and tells him to inform the cook that he’s home.
The dining room table has claws. The carved legs of the table end in huge animal claws that grasp a huge ball. A marble fireplace is beside the table, and on the opposite wall, a row of mirrors reflects back my stunned face. Seeing my expression, I dial it back and stop staring at all the expensive, weird stuff.
“You should have a room here, Astrid,” he declares plainly as he pulls a chair away from the table, and I sit down. “You would have a place to hide out.”
I pause, staring at my father, but his expression doesn’t give me anything. His face is serene, and his thoughts only belong to him. I wish I could mimic that look because everyone knows I’m pissed or hurt with one glance.
Instead of the driver, a woman appears in the room. She smiles at Dr. Howland but stares sullenly at me. It’s not my imagination as her bottom lip pokes out. I guess he didn’t tell these people I exist. Fair enough. I didn’t know they existed either. The woman recovers slowly and politely asks Dr. Howland how his day went.
“Well, Vina, and I’d like to introduce you to my daughter Astrid.”
Vina deserves a reward for keeping it together. She smiles sweetly and places a cloth napkin over my lap. “Very nice to meet you, Astrid.”
I smile widely, but my foot is shaking under the table. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you too.”
Vina beams, pleased with my good manners, which I’ve been practicing since I noticed how the others girls act in the dorm. Smiles and soft words are the keys to success, even when you’re talking shit about someone.
Dinner is served like we’re at a restaurant—no self-serve from a pan on the table. The plates of food are brought to us, and it’s a surprise to see a simple meal of buttered vegetables and meatloaf with a whole wheat roll. I never thought my job at the dining hall would contribute to my life skills, but I know exactly what fork to use. Eventually, we have to speak to one another, but I don’t mind while my hands have something to do.
“You wanted to discuss your surname, Astrid?”
I swallow. “Yes. Can I say who you are? Is that’s okay?”
“I think it is.” He grins and refrains from pointing out the obvious. “I was concerned at first what our relationship would be like moving forward, but you seem to be adjusting to Stonehaven and all its challenges. That was the first hurdle.”
“What’s the second?” I ask, lowering my silverware to my plate. My appetite might not survive our conversation intact.
“I will expect you to take on social duties as a Howland.” He wipes his mouth with his napkin. “I expect you to volunteer at the hospital and host charity dinners. Your enunciation isn’t as refined as it could be, but that’s fixable.”
His placid expression falters when I shrug my shoulders. “Sounds okay. Is there anything else?”
The ease I felt dissolves as his expression hardens. “And I would expect you to marry well.”
I nearly choke on my own spit from surprise. “I wasn’t planning on marrying anytime soon.”
He waves off my legit concern. “You can attend college if you haven’t found a suitable partner at Stonehaven.”
I stare at the slowly congealing butter on my plate. One boy is not my problem. I’ve found three and want to drop-kick their asses out of my life.
“Any thoughts on the subject?” Howland asks.
“I need money,” I blurt out, “and not to buy frivolous sh…stuff. I want to start a business.”
Howland’s mouth tightens then relaxes. “How much money do you think you’ll need?”
“Fifty thousand.” I’m proud that my voice doesn’t shake.
Finally, a reaction from the stone man. His eyes widen slightly and then narrow as he realizes he will have to pay if he wants me.
“It’s my condition for taking your name,” I explain, “We can think of it as a signing bonus. Like I said, it’s not frivolous. It’s an investment in a lot of futures.”
He nods. “When you were born, a trust fund was started in your name. Astrid Howland. It was your mother’s choice not to give you my name.”
I stare at him, knowing it’s rude, but my mind needs an anchor before it comes crashing down. Mom said he wanted to get rid of me. Who starts a trust for a kid they don’t want?
My eyes slowly let me look away. “Well, like I said, this money isn’t just for my future.”
“May I ask if it’s also for your mother’s?”
“I’m paying the rent on her apartment,” I explain, “That’s why I keep going through the money you send me. Plus, every freaking kid at Stonehaven wants to eat anywhere but at the dining hall.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have said freaking, but Dr. Howland laughs. He actually looks at me with a soft gaze for once. I sit up straight, worried that I’ll fuck up that goodwill before I leave.
“You’re overdue some type of financial compensation,” he says. “So if you take my name legally, then I will give you the money in increments.”
I nod, grateful that I pulled it off. “I don’t want to say who I am at school just yet. I’ve gotten used to how they act around me, and I’d rather they be as close to themselves as possible and not…you know.”
“Kiss ass?” he says, smiling. “It’s a hazard of our situation to collect yes-people around us.”
“I’m sorry to ask for the money,” I tell him sincerely, “but if I weren’t at Stonehaven, I wouldn’t need it.”
“Don’t apologize, Astrid. You aren’t some poor relation who appeared on my doorstep. You are my daughter. A Howland. Come, let me show you your room, and then my driver, Christopher, will take you back to Stonehaven.” He stands, holding out his hand toward me. “Thank you for reaching out to me.”
“Thank you,” I bite my lip. “Should I call you Dad?”
He sighs. “It’s better than Daddy. Let’s try Elliot. You are an adult, after all.”
“Thanks, Elliot.”
I follow up the staircase toward the second floor. To the left, a bedroom is also being painted, and I wonder if it’s Charlotte’s mom’s room. The room is stripped bare, and all the furnishings are gone except for a moving box on the floor.
Elliot guides me toward the right. “Your room is near mine,” he says, “I hear that you are friendly with Bryce Shelton?”
Fuck. And thank goodness I didn’t say that aloud. “We have a class together.”
My bedroom is also empty, but it’s large, with a private bathroom. I don’t feel anything toward spending time here. Elliot doesn’t show me any other rooms before we return downstairs. At the front door, I hold out my hand, and he shakes it. I won’t say I feel like I’m making a deal with the devil because that’s not how it feels. It feels like I finally have what has been missing—a father, as stupid as that may sound. I need someone who cares about my future, starting with Stonehaven. Someone who will back me up when I tell them to watch their backs.
As the car pulls out of the driveway, I realize that Elliot never once asked about Charlotte.
