Well then fine. Let them have some secret laugh at my expense, so long as they stay out of my way. I’m in no mood to deal with the drama surrounding the clique today. I returned Victoria’s dress and shoes before classes started, but she wasn’t in her room. For all I know, she’s still down in the wine cellar.
She did finally turn up after lunch, but luckily she wasn’t interested in talking to anyone either, and that includes me. I find some small, hateful, comfort in it.
Madame Bisset stops me after my French class and asks me to stay. All I want to do is bury my head under my pillow, but I stand at her desk and look at her expectantly.
“Sadie, is everything all right with you?” she asks with concern.
I feel certain that she can tell that I’m hung over, and try to straighten my shoulders a bit like that will help. “Yes, it’s fine, why?”
“Your grades have dropped, and you’re missing a lot of class lately.” She lowers her brows some. “I know you had high hopes and good goals when you started, but I’ve seen a change in you.”
I’m taken aback. “Sorry … I … I hadn’t realized.”
I knew it was going to come. I’ve been letting my all-important social life overtake my school career. I haven’t been taking any of my education seriously, and that was the whole reason that I came to this private school to begin with.
She looks at me pointedly. “If something was wrong … you could come to me, you know.”
“Thank you. It means a lot to me that you care. I’ll get back on track. I promise.”
As I try to reassure her, I wonder if I’m lying just to her or to both of us.
It’s nice to have someone actually care what my grades are and worry about how I’m doing, but I just need to work it out myself. She couldn’t possibly be any help to me in figuring out how to manage the social politics here as well as my grades and schoolwork, or my epically failing friendship with Dana.
I wave goodbye to her and leave, wishing that I could do it all over again. I feel like I started out on a slippery slope, and now I’m just spiraling downward with no hope at all of getting back on my feet and back on solid ground again. I can’t imagine how bad it actually must be for me not to have noticed this long.
As soon as I leave I feel so sick to my stomach that I head straight for the girl’s bathroom. Luckily, I’m the only one in it, and I go to the sink and wash my face with cold water. It feels better, but it doesn’t help too much. My head is buried in the sink with a wet napkin to my face when I hear a familiar voice right beside me.
“Feeling poorly today, Sadie?” he asks, his voice cold. I cringe. I know it’s Astor.
“I’ve felt better,” I answer him with a groan, slowly standing up and lowering the napkin. He’s looking at me with that smug expression he so often gets. It’s the one I’d love to slap right off of his face.
“Well, maybe you just need a little more time in here to freshen up. Might do you a world of good.” He gives me a nod and heads for the door while I look at him quizzically. Why would he care how much time I spend in a bathroom?
I’m too sick to care … but I realize right away that I should have.
Astor closes the door behind him when he leaves. It’s followed by the soul-crushing sound of the doors locking behind him. From the outside.
I remember something Victoria said last night.
Astor has the key.
I guess the ‘Hawthorne privilege’ extends to
all the doorways.
“Astor!” I scream at the top of my lungs, rushing to the door and pounding on it. “Astor, you let me out of here right now!”
I can hear laughter on the other side. “It’s payback time, Sadie. A little bit of punishment for you,” Astor tells me through the door, and I can hear his friends laughing with him as they walk away.
“No!” I scream at him. “Let me out! Let me out!” It doesn’t matter how much I yell and bang on the door, for some reason no one is there, and I am truly stuck. My upset stomach comes back to bite me, and the coffee and water I’ve had today comes back up. I throw up again, and the only thing I’m grateful for is that I’m in a bathroom and no one else has to be around me while I’m sick. This is one mess I won’t have to clean up.
After I can get to my feet again, I start looking around for another way out. I finally manage to get one of the windows unlocked and pushed open, only to remember that I’m on the third floor on the side facing the woods. Even if I called out, I doubt anyone would hear me.
It’s back to banging and yelling on the door. I don’t last long this second time around before I finally give up and lay on the floor. I don’t cry, but I think it’s only because my body has already expelled all its excess fluids.
I’m so sick and exhausted that the cold tiles feel good against my head. If I lay absolutely still it doesn’t feel like I’m about to die anymore.
It must be years before I hear the lock click again, and then that’s it. Only the sound. No one comes in, no one calls out to me. I stand up slowly and reach for the door and this time it swings open.