October Academy

Chapter 66

Six rolls around quicker than expected. Acacia and Perry help me pick my most appropriate, and pretty outfit, for dinner.

I see the house with different eyes as Darcy walks me through, compared to how it looked the night of the party. I notice the intricately designed gardens, the way pots and sculptures are sprinkled around, the tall heavy doors that are made of pure materials.

I don't know what I expected, but I didn't expect Isha (Alyssa's mum) to come up and hug the both of us with full force. I imagined she'd be wearing an apron and ask us to help with dinner, but I look in the same kitchen I took shots in, to find two chefs preparing something.

Isha is a short woman, a head shorter than Alyssa. But her skin is a flawless warm brown. She could be our age, though I know she's about forty. It's unbelievable how manicured and beautiful she is. Then again, what could I expect from Alyssa's mum? Like mother like daughter.

She gives Alyssa a big hug too.

Darcy's dad appears from another room – which I assume is his study – and bellows a warm welcome. I learn his name is Nick. He hugs the both of us, seemingly genuine.

I can't understand why Darcy portrays the two of them as so cold, but maybe it's all an act. How would I know what they're really like behind closed doors?

"Dinner is served," one of the chefs comes in to tell us.

We walk to the dining room, which is opposite the kitchen, in front of glass sliding doors which reveal a beautiful veranda. Outside I can see acres of greenery, tall trees, a gorgeous pool. Candles are lit on the table, and a tall vase with a colourful array of flowers sits tall.

"So, how does it feel to be graduating next week?" Isha asks the three of us.

Alyssa nods, "I can't wait to leave that hell hole."

"What about you, son?" Nick says – and I realise he looks like a European George Clooney. "Are you happy to be graduating?"

"Not really," Darcy says, taking a glance at me. "I don't like change."

"Change can be good," Nick says. "What about you, Jade?"

"I'm excited to finish, but I think I'll still miss the little things," I answer, trying to sound polite.

The chefs start serving our food in front of us, explaining what each item is. The appetisers are snails, saganaki (a Greek cheese with honey), grilled octopus and caviar.

The family continues to small talk, about meaningless things: the weather, the news, celebrities.

They don't bring up the Class Killer. They don't bring up what happened at formal. They don't even ask us how surviving a terrorist attack might feel. It's like they're wearing masks, that they can only portray perfection or everything will come tumbling down.

I look down, ready to take a bite out of some saganaki, but have no clue which of the three forks I'm meant to use. I bite my lip uneasily, and glance around the table, trying to gage which one everyone is using.

I catch Alyssa's eyes, and she subtly gestures which fork to use. I smile at her in thanks.

"So, what do your parents do, Jade?" Nick asks me.

"Um," I try to keep it nonchalant, "I don't know my parents."

"Oh," Nick raises an eyebrow. "Then who is sending you to such a prestigious school?"

Darcy gives me eyes, as if to say stop talking.

"I'm on a scholarship, for ice-skating," I say, realising that Darcy didn't already tell them. That he's ashamed of me.

"That's not what you said, Darcy?" Nick says, daring Darcy to intervene.

Darcy ignores the question, playing with his food. Darcy... lied about me?

"It's such a generous thing that October Academy does," Nick says, sipping a glass of wine, "bringing kids off the streets and giving them the chance to succeed in life."

"Nick," Isha says, warningly.

An underlying tension courses through the table.

The second course of the meal comes through. Venison. Scallops. Other delicacies that I haven't even heard of before, let alone tried.

"Darcy, why didn't you tell us about Jade's disposition?"

"I didn't think it was relevant," Darcy says flatly, not looking up at me.

What, because I'm not rich? It's not worth mentioning my background?

"Anyways, let's talk about your graduation outfits!" Isha says, swifly changing the topic.

.

.

.

Darcy and I head up to his room after dinner.

"Desert's coming in ten," Isha says, "I'll call out."

I close the door to Darcy's room, because I know I won't be able to contain my voice.

"What happened in there?" I say, too loudly.

"Calm down," he says, and I'm taken aback by his condescension. "It was nothing."

"No it wasn't," I say.

"My dad's a fucking asshole, I already told you."

"Why didn't you tell them I'm a foster kid?"

"Because it doesn't matter? It's not important? It doesn't define you?" he says dramatically, bringing up his hands in defence.

"But it's part of who I am – it matters to me," I say, shaking my head. "You're... ashamed of me."

"I'm not ashamed – where would you get that idea?" he says, exasperatedly.

"You lied. You hid the truth. Why? Is it because I'm beneath you? You're worried your parents won't accept me? I'm not sophisticated enough, or mature enough for your tastes?"

"Jade, you're being silly."

"No! I'm not. I saw you last night," I spit out.

Darcy's features shift. His jaw sets. "What did you see?"

"I saw you. With her."

He takes in a deep breath.

"Aren't you going to explain yourself?" I wanted it to come out angry, but it comes out as a squeak, as a desperate plea.

"You don't understand what it's like to miss your mother," he says, looking away from me.

"Oh really?" I want to pull my hair out. "If that's really what you want – if you really want to be manipulated and abused into love – then fine." I storm out.

I take two steps at a time, rushing out if his room and down the stairs, bumping into Alyssa.

"Woah, slow down horsey," she says, catching my arms.

Tears are spilling before I can stop them.

Alyssa looks confused, but then almost empathetic? "Just go, I'll tell mum," Alyssa says.

I nod. "Thankyou."

"And Jade," she says, as I turn on my heels opening the front door, "thanks for saving my life. Sorry for being a bitch."

I nod again, not wanting my voice to give me away.

I walk out of the house, through the maze-like gardens. I hear a voice in the distance, and eventually recognise it as Nick's. His charisma has turned sinister, as he tries to contain his voice to whoever he speaks to on the phone.

I have my phone out, ready to call Perry on the drive home. I don't know what compels me to do it, but I start to record Nick's conversation.

And I record the moment he says, "I don't care if it was five years ago. Bury the evidence, or I'll make sure your wife is next."