Twisted Lies by Nora Cobb
Chapter 41
Astrid
“Why did you open your mouth when I told you not to?” My voice carries a little too far. “Why did you say anything?”
Roni has avoided the dorm room all day, but I knew I would catch her in the dining hall with Terri. His pressed lips turn white, and the shaking fork in his hand indicates he’s trembling. I toss my backpack down on an empty chair and sit down across from them. They’re quite a pair—Roni looks like she wants to start a fight while Terri looks as if he’s going to faint. Roni has no one to hide behind, so she better deal with me. And I’m a fool if I think she won’t.
“I didn’t open my mouth,” she replies sharply. “No one knows your business.”
I force myself not to flinch, but it’s difficult not to react as the chatter swirls around our table. My father’s identity is known to everyone in the senior class. And the few people who don’t know are being told as kids file past our table, whispering and pointing.
A boy that never speaks to me stops and stares as if I’m a picture posted on his screen. I turn my head slowly and glare, but he responds with an indifferent smile as if he has a right to gawk. I turn back to Roni, and her hurt expression shocks me. Why is she upset?
“Like I said,” she repeats, “no one knows your business, Ms. Howland.”
We aren’t close, and this just proves it. I kept a huge secret from Roni when I lied about my dad the day we met. I lied by omission. We started out as two misfits, out of place in a fancy school, so we had to end up friends. But Roni could never be as close to me as Nova. Roni and I didn’t work at being friends, and if you gotta work on it too hard, are you really that close?
We stare at one another, and there’s a decision we’ve got to make here and now. Are we going to call out our phony relationship, or are we going to keep on pretending? I inhale deeply, knowing that our bond will never be more than it already is.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, looking away, “that your feelings were hurt.” Gradually, I’m learning not to own up to fucking up. Astrid Howland will never say sorry and mean it. I may not be ready for the privileged life, but I better keep practicing.
Roni presses her lips tightly together, understanding fully what I just did. “Don’t fret it,” she says, “But I didn’t open my mouth.”
Roni thinks I’m talking about the cash, not the break-in, but I don’t bother correcting her. The scrutiny is stretching my nerves as more people pass by our table and openly stare. Nudging against it, they squeeze by the other gawkers, followed by laughter as they hurry off to their tables. I motion to place my order for dinner and notice Gary peeking out of the kitchen door, his gaze stuck on me. No doubt sharing with the kitchen staff that Astrid Howland used to bus trays and sucked at it.
I’m giving up on this bullshit and taking off. Now I can afford to eat in Rockingham, and I can hook up with the track team, who only care if I win the race. Grabbing my backpack, I’m almost gone when Charlotte sits down beside me.
“Astrid, have you introduced me to your friends?” she asks.
That’s odd. I sit back down. “Roni is my roommate, and we hang with Terri.”
Charlotte smiles, tossing her hair. “I’m Charlotte Howland, Astrid’s sister. I’m from Rockingham and am attending Smith in the fall. And you are?”
Roni stares dumbly at Charlotte, who shines like a beacon on every social occasion. Charlotte’s beauty and confidence suck the cool out of all who face her. Under the table, I gently kick Roni’s foot to get her talking again.
“I’m Veronica Star Griffin, formerly of New Jersey. But call me Roni. My dad’s in plastics.”
Charlotte wrinkles her nose as if that’s an amusing anecdote. “How sweet. Plastics are all around us.” Her blue eyes flash on Terri, and she lowers her lashes a few times. “And your name is?”
Terri drops his fork on his plate, making a racket as metal bounces off ceramic and strikes the floor. His entire face blazes red like he has measles. Terri opens his mouth but can’t utter a sound, especially while we’re all staring at him. He takes in a large gulp of air like a fish desperate for water, and we wait patiently for him to say his name.
Roni rolls her eyes. “His name is Terri.”
“Terrence Hamilton of Connecticut.” He sputters like an outboard motor on a rowboat. “My family are descendants of the Hamiltons. I don’t have to work for a living.” Somehow he manages to spew that all out on one breath.
Roni and I share a confused look while Terri gawks at pretty Charlotte, who smiles and swirls a lock of pale blonde hair around her finger. Roni punches Terri’s shoulder, and he snaps out of it, clutching his shoulder and lowering his forehead onto the table. His loud breathing barely contributes to the conversation as he recuperates from this social interaction.
“I need to leave here,” I speak only to Charlotte. “Let’s go somewhere else to eat. Please.” Maybe I shouldn’t give Roni and Terri a dirty look when I stand up to leave. But I’m not feeling warmhearted after that wimp-ass display in front of Charlotte. I grab my backpack, not waiting for Charlotte to respond, and head for the large oak door.
Charlotte waves goodbye to Roni while her gaze lingers on Terri. She hurries out the oak door, which I hold open for her with my foot.
“Where do you want to go?” she asks as we walk toward the stone gate.
“Let’s catch an Uber and get away from here.” We wait for fifteen minutes by the gate after Charlotte tells me that she also doesn’t have a car. Not anymore.
“When I learn to drive, Daddy will buy me a new one,” she says.
“You don’t have your license?” I ask, scowling.
“Suspended,” she replies.
We scramble into the back seat of a Toyota Camry and settle in for a ride to the mall. The music playing is trending and not hard enough for my taste, but Charlotte nods her head as she softly sings along. The conversation we need to have is postponed a little longer as we pretend our lives haven’t changed.
Charlotte frowns when the Uber stops in front of a chain restaurant brightly lit, with no hint of ambience. I went to Four Girls Burgers when I turned sixteen and thought it was the hippest place I’d ever eaten in. A few months at Stonehaven have taught me I was ultimately duped.
I motion toward the double glass doors. “They have good fries and shakes. We can split.”
Charlotte shrugs and follows me inside. At the counter, we concentrate on ordering, and I send her to get a table while I wait for the food. Eventually, there will be nothing left to do except talk. I set the overflowing tray down on our table and slide into the booth opposite her. Charlotte gazes at a football game on the monitor behind me while I set our food on the repurposed wood table. She doesn’t seem to put off by two older guys checking out her legs. We probably should have changed into jeans. Even without the blazer, the navy skirts tag us as Stonehaven students. The bench creaks as I shift my weight, and as I open my mouth, Charlotte starts to speak.
“It’s official now.” She holds her thirty-two-ounce cola up in a toast. “Welcome to the family, Astrid. I hope your first official day as a Howland has been memorable. We never compared birth dates, but I think I’m older than you by a month.”
I tap my cup against hers and take a sip. “Thanks, but it’s not important right now. I know you saw me with Bryce, and I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” she laughs thinly, “For kissing him? For sleeping with him? For luring him away? What are you sorry for?” She looks past me at the game again.
I look at the table instead of her. “I know you’re upset.”
Charlotte’s eyes flash. “Don’t you dare tell me how I’m feeling. You don’t know that. You’re not in my head.”
Her voice is low, but the room is suddenly quiet. I sip my drink and ignore the food. Charlotte has a right to aim her hostility at me after what happened with Bryce. She never thought her hold on him would ever weaken, and I proved her wrong. It didn’t happen to hurt her. It happened because he wants me. And I want him just as much.
“Funny how history repeats itself.” Charlotte pops a greasy fry into her mouth and then grimaces. For a second, she stares at her napkin but swallows the oily lump down her throat. “Is this organic?” she gasps. “What oil do they use?”
I place my fingers on my temples and center my shit. We are going to get through this conversation before the restaurant closes. “Bryce had to apologize to me because he gave me money after our date. I really should hate him, but it’s hard to when I make excuses for him.”
Charlotte’s eyes widen on me. “I didn’t think he would do it.”
I stare back. “You told him to give me cash?”
She grins sheepishly. “I told him you needed money. Bryce won’t talk about your date, and you’re always tight-lipped about everything.” She sips her soda. “Are you going to continue seeing him?” Charlotte sighs softly. “Of course you are. He knows you’re a Howland now.”
I toss the fry in my hand on the tray. My head can’t keep up with the shit they’re pulling on me. Charlotte told him to give me the money, and he thought that was a good idea? WTF. Well, she’s right about one thing. Bryce apologized the day he found out I was a Howland, and he didn’t conceal why. I focus on Charlotte when she taps her nail on the table to get my attention.
“So, are you seeing him again?” Her expression is calm except for her eyes. Charlotte’s pretty face is perfectly composed, the way it appears in her portrait, but her gaze is sharp enough to draw blood. Her expression holds back all the resentment she feels because it’s uncivilized to vent the way I would.
“He’s an ass,” I tell her bluntly, “But I’ll probably go out with him again. I don’t want to like Bryce,” I reply to her steady stare, “But I doubt he’ll like me for much longer.”
Charlotte scoffs. “And what about Justin?” She flicks the bun off her burger and picks out a pickle. “Is he your safe choice?”
“He’s not talking to me anymore.”
“So, he’s back on the mating market?” she asks sarcastically, “You never liked Pierce, so I guess I could settle for him,” she says. “Oh, and there is poor Wyatt.”
“I like Wyatt, but he’s not speaking to me either,” I look down at my burger still in the wrapper. “He’s the one I really want.”
“Why isn’t he speaking to you?” she asks. It’s hard to believe we’re discussing boys so casually when we’ve both been hurt by the same one. This isn’t what I expected. I thought Charlotte would be angry over Bryce. Especially after the look she gave me from the window. But I’m glad we’re at least talking.
“Because of Justin,” I reply honestly.
“Because you had sex with Justin.” She eats another pickle but frowns at the meat. “They talk, as you must know. And that’s not a topic of conversation Bryce would have wanted to hear.”
She’s not enjoying her food, and I’m not eating mine. I had hoped we would really talk, but neither one of us is really opening up. Maybe it’s the difference between us. She can’t let loose, and I’m afraid to.
Charlotte watches the monitor as she speaks. “I was in love with Bryce, but it’s not our future.”
“I’m sorry, Charlotte, but—”
“But I told you to sleep with him.” She pushes her burger away. “I did do that, but with disastrous results. I thought he would come running back to me. That’s how it’s done, but I made a miscalculation. I should’ve married him first and then sent him your way.”
A chill races through me. “You don’t really believe that.”
Charlotte holds her stomach and lets out a tiny belch. She frowns at the soda, which is a third empty, and shakes her head. “Daddy returned to my mother. It’s what these Stonehaven men do. It’s what we tolerate until the divorce settlement.”
“You can’t believe that’s a good relationship,” I reply harshly, “I never said I was exclusive. Once someone says they’re exclusive, that’s it. That’s you and them together—nothing on the side.”
“But what if you can’t choose just one?” she asks me coolly. “This food is foul.” She bounces to a new topic. “I want Thai.”
We slide out of the booth, dumping the food back on the tray while the two guys watch us. We ignore them, not turning when they smack their lips to get our attention.
“Have you talked to Daddy lately?” Charlotte asks as I tip the food into the trash. If she hadn’t been here, I would’ve bagged it and taken it all home.
I talked to Howland recently about the storefront I want to rent, and we have an appointment to see it tomorrow. Charlotte doesn’t need to know that.
“He put some money into my account,” I answer as we wait for our ride back.
Charlotte taps her Thai order into her phone for pickup. “Daddy must be taking Mom’s death very hard,” she says, “He’s become even more distant. I went to visit the house last weekend, and he barely talked to me.”
We can’t climb back into that car until we have an understanding. “I need to know where we stand,” I tell Charlotte, “We’re sisters, and I don’t know how to act like one. I don’t want a boy to come between us before we even get started.”
“I’m hurt, but it’s not your fault,” she admits, watching the traffic pass by on the road. “I’ve never had to share anything before, least of all boys. I had to admit to myself he wasn’t the one when I watched him holding your hand. He’s never done that with me—be so attentive.” Her lips twist as she keeps her voice steady. “I want that more than I want him. I want someone who wants to be with me.”
The car pulls up too soon, ending the conversation that I wanted to continue having. When I finally hear what she feels instead of what she’s been told to think, my heart softens. We climb in, and Charlotte tells the driver to drive by the Thai place first. He starts to complain until she pulls out a twenty and hands it to him. I watch Charlotte and wonder how I can get her talking again.
“What are you going to do about Bryce?” I ask her.
“I’m going to dump his ass. I have to now. People are watching for my reaction.”
“I’m sorry, Charlotte,” I reply.
She smiles. “Thank you, but it’s not your fault. Not anyone’s, really. We all make choices, and some don’t work out, and when they don’t, you’ve got to move on and choose someone else.”
She’s right. But as the car starts moving, I can’t help but focus on one thing she said:
What if you can’t choose just one?
