Prep School Experiment (9 page)

Rhys had expected the senator’s dad to be polished, someone who looked like the CEO of Wentworth labs. Instead, he got an old coot, which was kind of cool.

The librarian held tongs over a salad bowl, hooked a golden section of mango and dangled it at the camera. “I thought you were watching your cholesterol, Pops?”

“Ain’t no mango gonna hold me.”

“Pop, you’re a scientist,” the senator said. “You know the benefits of cutting back on red meat.”

“This meeting ain’t about me.” The old man’s face pursed. “Cal’s got news.”

The librarian smiled indulgently. “Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t. Dad likes us to eat together.”

Grandmother nodded at her husband. “Go ahead. Tell them.”

Grandfather nodded. “After you told us about Braedon, I mean,
Rhys
, your mother and I felt we had to meet him.”

The librarian put her fingertips to her lips. “You will. November 9
th
. We’re counting the days until this election is over.”

The senator nodded and put his arm over the back of the librarian’s chair. “You don’t have to agree with our decision, sir. We’ve heard your opinion on this. Michelle and I made the decision together. We want what’s best for our son.”

The librarian’s gray eyes searched her parents’ faces. “Mom. Dad. What did you do?” She dropped her fork and the clatter carried through the microphone. “Did you go meet Rhys?”

There was silence in response to the question.

The senator’s father used the opportunity to wave his server forward. He used a quick gesture and she placed a plate of chicken-fried steak with mashed potatoes and gravy in front of him. He smiled like he’d gotten away with something and turned his attention back to the camera. “What’s that, Cal?”

Nice.

The senator spoke before Grandfather Brentwood could answer. “You don’t have to agree with our decision, but you have to respect it.”

“Calm down, son,” the senator’s own father said. “There’s no protecting your boy from us. We’re his grandparents. What’s the harm in meeting him? There ain’t no press in Alaska.” He hacked into his chicken-fried steak. “Let me know when you’re going, Cal. I’ll dig out a parka and fire up the jet.”

Grandfather Brentwood glanced at his wife. “This is not going quite as I’d expected. Well, we met Rhys and—”

“What do you mean you
met
him?” The librarian leaned forward. “When? How’s he doing? Is he okay? Does he have everything he needs? Does he have enough books?”

Grandmother took charge of the situation and clicked on the camera in front of Rhys. His image popped up on the screen to the left of his grandparents.

Silence.

“Hey, Rhys,” Christian said.

“Hey.”

“Christian, go to your room.” The senator’s voice was serious. “We need to talk to your grandparents in private.”

Christian obliged him by scooping up his bowl of salad. He nodded to everyone, gave a thumbs-up to Rhys, and left the video screen.

“What did you do?” the senator said, spacing out the words.

Geez. It wasn’t as if he’d gotten kicked out. “I didn’t
do
anything,” Rhys said. “They offered. I said, ‘yes.’”

The senator blinked and held up his hand. “Not you, kiddo. I’m talking to your grandfather.”

A hand slapped the table, drawing their attention to the West Texas screen. “That you, boy?” He took a sip of his iced tea. Rhys bet it was sweetened. “I’m your Grandpa Wentworth calling from the ranch.”

“Howdy,” Rhys drawled.

The old man grinned big. “He may look like you, Cal, but he
sounds
like me.”

The librarian said, “Rhys, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“He belongs with family,” Grandmother said to the librarian.

“I know that, Mom. Alaska was always temporary.”

“I assume this is a visit, and you’ll have Rhys back at his boarding school in time for class later in the week?” The senator formed the sentence like a question, but he meant it as a command.

Grandfather Brentwood stiffened and sat up straighter. “No. He’s staying with us.”

“Mom,” Michelle said. “Dad.”

Grandfather Brentwood’s hard line cracked in the face of his daughter. He blew out a breath. “The science teacher there drugged some of the students. Including Rhys. He’s safer with us.”

Rhys felt his face heat as all the gazes turned to him.

Freaking moron, letting himself get drugged like a naïve sheltered kid.

“An experimental vitamin regimen and the side effects have been giving him trouble,” Grandfather Brentwood said. “I’m sure you all can agree that Rhys is better off here, given the situation.”

The librarian paled, and her hands made grasping motions.

“I’m fine,” Rhys said. Not quite true, but he hated the worried look on her face.

“What did they give you, boy?” Grandpa Wentworth asked. “How much? What kind of reactions?”

Grandfather Brentwood explained Rhys’ newly hyperactive mind.

“The company’s name is Capable Tech,” Rhys said. “Well, that’s what the label said.” He spit out everything else he could remember about the compound: the words on the label, the color, texture, and smell.

“I’ll look into their pipeline,” Grandpa Wentworth said.

“I’ll look into their funding,” the senator said.

“I don’t…I can’t…” The librarian couldn’t complete a sentence and looked like she needed to lie down. “Rhys should be here.”

“I’ve got this handled, dear,” Grandmother said. “I’ve notified Shay Prep. They know a new student starts tomorrow.”

“That school’s gonna want his legal name,” Grandpa Wentworth said.

“Rhys Zukowski.” Rhys was happy his brain was working well enough to at least spit out his name. Man, it had been bad lately. He kept his head tilted away from the camera as much as he could. The senator didn’t know him, but the librarian would recognize how out of whack everything was with him. He spread a spoonful of salmon paté onto a cracker and eyed the old coot’s plate as he stuffed the hors d' oeuvre in his mouth.

The senator said, “If that scientist is looking for
Rhys Zukowski
, we should consider private tutoring.”

Knowing he didn’t have a right to his own name was freaking annoying. The cracker crumbled under Rhys’ fingers and he drew in a deep breath. Grandmother had said,
“Breathe before you act, Rhys. People will wait for your response.”
He took another cracker, broke off a piece and slowly spread the mousse-like paté across the top. Grandmother had said add topping one bite at a time
, “People will wait for you.”
Rich people. He worked his jaw and took a second bite.

“Private tutoring won’t get him into the best colleges.” Steel hardened Grandmother’s eyes. “His mother went to Shay Prep. I went there. Rhys will go there too.”

Grandfather Brentwood cleared his throat. “What about my name? We could enroll him under Brentwood.
Rhys Brentwood
.”

With all his screwing up and despite his ignorance of their world, Grandfather wanted to share his name? Rhys’ throat tightened, and he reached for his heavy water glass, unable to speak.

“I don’t know what y’all think y’all are doing up there, up north,” Grandpa Wentworth said. “But that boy has a legal name and it ain’t
Zukowski
. And it ain’t
Brentwood
. It’s
Braedon Shay Wentworth
. Sorry about the
Shay,
son. Your mama wouldn’t hear of letting it go. It’s her mama’s family name and all, so we really couldn’t fight it.”

“And hand him straight up to the press?” the senator said. “Is that what you want?”

Name options spun through Rhys mind.

Zukowski.
The name Zukowski could trigger The Scientist to find him. Besides, it wasn’t his anymore.

Wentworth.
The press would hear about a Wentworth kid being enrolled at a prestigious academy. With his dad’s rumored philandering, gossip would fly and affect the election. The news would go national. Mom might even hear of it back at the trailer park.

Brentwood.
Rhys Brentwood. Not Braedon Brentwood. Rhys turned to Grandfather. He didn’t want to embarrass Grandmother, but he had to ask. “
Rhys Brentwood.
You know what they’ll think, don’t you?”

“You’re too young to be Jack’s boy. They’ll think you’re mine,” Grandfather Brentwood said.

Grandmother nodded and arched one eyebrow, a sophisticated look that he’d never seen at the trailer park crossing her face. “And?”

Rhys dotted some of the small black circles of caviar on top of the orange salmon pate and popped the cracker in his mouth.

Salty. Weird food.

“If the rumors won’t bother you, they won’t bother me. I’ve always been a bastard, so I can take it.”

The librarian gasped.

“We don’t use that term,” Grandmother said.

Really? He’d heard it his whole life.

“Sorry, Grandmother.”

“Son, your parents have always been married,” Grandpa Wentworth said. “You’ve never been a bastard. I would have gotten out the shotgun before I let that happen.”

Odd. Now he wasn’t a bastard. Life surprised him daily.

Rhys took another drink and met the camera lens full face. “I look like the Brentwoods. I’ll go with
Rhys Brentwood
.”

Grandmother appeared pleased. “Rhys
Shay
Brentwood.”

Rhys winced at the girly name but nodded. He hadn’t known Grandmother long, but he knew better than to buck the hard glint in her gray eyes. When the tailor had explained his Italian-connection was low on silk for the Shay uniform ties and suggested an Eastern-bloc alternative, she’d gotten the same look. The ties had arrived on a plane from Milan the next afternoon.

“Does looking like your name matter?” The librarian’s interest seemed sincere, desperate even.

“Mom used to compare me to her mental list of boyfriends, to figure out who I looked like.” Rhys tried to make a joke of it. “Now we know why the answer was ‘none of them.’”

His humor fell flat. The librarian’s chin wobbled and her lips trembled. He didn’t remember her being so fragile. He’d have to take better care of her feelings. She hadn’t deserved any of this.

***

Kaitlin slid into the booth at the Thai restaurant and sent off two emails, one to Geneva and one to Elena. She wished they’d respond and hoped they were receiving them. She wished they were going to Shay Prep. She wished she was meeting Elena and Geneva for Thai food.

The waiter assessed her pumpkin-colored headband and swing coat and her nutmeg tights. His raised eyebrows said she’d gotten her fall clothing wrong.

New York.

Kaitlin sighed and shrugged out of her coat. The cashmere crushed under her fingers and she wished she could stir up some New York attitude in response. But, even if she could pull off snarky, she’d only end up feeling guilty. “I’m meeting two friends. I’ll have hot tea until they get here.”

His look said that he doubted any girl wearing lace-up flats had two friends. “White, black, yellow, or oolong?”

“Black. Sugar. Milk.”

One side of his mouth curled inward.

“Please.”

She’d barely gotten the word out when Raven and Regina arrived, squeezing into the booth beside her.

“Two Thai iced teas, please,” Raven said, ordering for them both.

The waiter nodded his approval, handed them menus, and left.

Regina leaned back against the booth. “Kit Kat. Your hair. The straightener you used worked wonders on that frizz ball. And the gold highlights? To die.” She pursed her lips and stroked her own beautiful black hair like she was considering a change in color.

“Cool blue contacts,” Raven said and snatched up a menu. “I’ll order for us.”

Kaitlin hadn’t used a straightener or had her hair highlighted, and she didn’t wear contacts. These changes were weird side effects of the drug. Being taller and having lighter, straighter hair didn’t wig her out as much as her eyes. They truly weren’t brown anymore. Not really. They were brown shot through with a silvery-blue color. It was painfully unnerving not to know her own face in the mirror.

Even Mom had gotten upset over the blue in her eyes. Well, she had until Dad had reminded her about data on certain eyelash-lengthening formulas. They permanently changed the wearer’s iris colors. Drugs had side effects. That’s how it was.

Her parents approached her symptoms with a scientific curiosity. They’d always been that way. Most kids who fell down got a kiss on the knee and an ice cream. Kaitlin had gotten an explanation of bacterial growth and wound healing. When she was little, she’d even tried a couple of elaborate stories to spark some fear or overt concern. But, it hadn’t worked. She understood now that her parents hadn’t lacked caring or compassion. Doctors had to look at life differently in order to get their jobs done. She doubted she’d make a very good doctor. Did she even want to be a doctor anymore?

Raven waved the waiter over and gave him their order. “Coconut milk soup, Lahb Gai, Pad Thai with peanut sauce, and Goong Gah Tiem.”

After the waiter left, Regina leaned forward. “Okay. We want to hear all about the wilds of Alaska. Men who wear socks with sandals.”

Raven shuddered. “Is it true they have beards?”

Kaitlin worked her jaw and tried to think of how to fit in with her friends again. “You guys give me the scoop first.”

Regina’s brown eyes grew big. “OMG. Thayer barely talked to Elle at the Estridge annual gala. It was all over Twitter.”

“Everyone noticed,” Raven said. “Well, we weren’t there, but everyone’s heard all about it.”

“We’ll go next year,” Regina said.

“Yeah.” Raven unwrapped her soup spoon from the white cloth napkin. “We’ll probably get invited next year.”

***

Rhys Shay Brentwood got out of the limo, slung his messenger bag over his shoulder, and held the door for his grandparents. He was too antsy to wait for the driver, and his grandparents didn’t correct his behavior.

A tree-lined walkway led to a gray stone building that was a cross between a mansion and a castle. It was older than any building in Trallwyn, Texas. Shay Preparatory Academy. There was a high probability he’d see Kaitlyn today. His brain ran through the potential outcomes and narrowed the possibilities to two. Either she’d pretend not to know him, or she’d downgrade him, like she had when her parents visited the boarding school.