FAUX REAL

38

I've been here before, sitting in the headmaster's office, ignoring the slew of condescending remarks being tossed at me. It's the same thing every time.

'We warned you. You knew the consequences. We are so disappointed in you. This was your last chance. What were you thinking? Suspension. Expulsion. Blah blah blah.'

Where's the originality? You'd think the way in which teachers reprimand their pupils would alter between continents. It's like there's a universal handbook that gets tossed from school to school. I got to give it to Headmaster Rothland though, at least he's trying to get through to me. His size and baritone voice make his recycled gibberish somewhat entertaining. If I cared more, I might actually feel bad. But the thing is I don't care.

I don't care because.. better me than her. She'd probably be crying if she were sitting here listening to him soldier on about responsibilities and futures and mistakes. I don't think she'd be able to handle it. But I can.

I never thought I'd finish school. I didn't think it was possible. The fact I've lasted this long is impressive enough. The only reason I wanted to graduate was to throw the diploma in my parents' faces. A big 'fuck you'. I wanted to show dear old Mum and Dad that, despite their preconceived notions of the type of person I was, I am indeed smart enough to finish school. I guess that plan is no longer in the cards.

And neither is my inheritance. Well at least not for another twelve years. That's fine though. I don't actually want his money. I don't need his money. Frankly, I don't want anything to do with those people. The only thing I've ever wanted from him was respect. And I know, even if I did graduate and go to college, I'd never get it. Dad's already painted me out to be a disappointment. And his paint is expensive, permanent, not easily erased. It was idiotic to think that he'd be proud. I'm doing myself a favor now. I'm saving myself from disappointment.

And I'm saving Lisa.

It's better this way. She actually does care.

"Mrs. Rocco," Headmaster Rothland pushes out his chair as he stands up. "I understand that the school year is almost over but Hilton does not tolerate the use of illegal substances. The rules are very clear." He hands her a document. "Your niece has two hours to clean out her dorm room." He clears this throat. "Perhaps she'll have better luck at a public school."

"Thank you, Mr. Rothland," my aunt says, a sour expression on her face as glances over at me, "And on behalf of her parents, I want to apologize for her behavior. We were foolish to think sending her to America would change anything." She sighs, slipping on a pair of oversized sunglasses before adjusting her purse. "Some children are beyond saving, no matter how hard you try."

I snort, rolling my eyes as I stand up. God, as if she actually gives two shits about me. I'm sure she's more concerned about my dad reaming her out for not checking on me enough. 'How could you let this happen, Elizabeth?!' I laugh internally. There goes her monthly babysitting cheques. Knowing Dad, he might actually make her pay it back. See? Always a bright side.

"We wish you the best of luck, jennie" Rothland says passively. "Whatever it is you decide to do." He holds out his hand for my aunt to shake, his eyes scanning her face in a way that makes me feel super comfortable. Isn't he married? "It was a pleasure meeting you, anne, although I do wish it were under better circumstances."

"The pleasure was all mine," my aunt's lips curl into a cunning smile as she holds the Headmaster's hand for a beat longer than she should. "Steven." Gross. Husband number four here we come. Poor man. He doesn't know what he's started. She pulls away, tucking her hair as she turns to me. "Well, I suppose it's time for you to pack now, hmm?"