Elaine promised I’d have “the rest of the day” to myself like some alluring present, just for me. In practice, there’s nowhere to go. No gossip to overhear. No headmistresses with buttons to push.

Fuck all. There’s just a boring house to explore and offices to sneak into. Thorny doesn’t even bother to lock his, but that’s just a part of his game: even the drawers are empty in here. The books on the shelves aren’t his. The computer only holds generic programs, and I can’t even find the hint of a manuscript when I peek through the files.

He’s called my bluff, old Thorny, and he’s hidden his toys without even giving me the chance to play with them.

Annoyed, I find myself wandering the property again. I return to the tree house. Get bored. Wander down a path leading to the beach.

Find sand.

Return to the main house.

Find it empty.

Wash, rinse, and repeat.

By dinnertime, I’m convinced I’ll die of boredom in a month. So what does it matter if I break the rules now? They both make it so fucking tempting.

Elaine floats into the dining room carrying a platter of baked chicken and a bowl of salad balanced on both hands. Gracefully, she sets them in the center of the table. Her yellow dress makes her shine as purplish clouds outside obscure the real sun. She’s a pretty, lifeless substitute, taking her place at one end of the table.

Thorny, her surly storm cloud, takes the opposite end.

Like a good daughter, I stay in the middle, fidgeting like lightning caught between them.

“How was your day?” Elaine wonders as she serves herself. “Jane’s a wonderful teacher. She helped me with a few articles once upon a time.”

That’s right. Elaine writes too. She “writes” for fancy feminist journals that make more room for her pictures than her actual articles. She’s social justice eye candy.

“It was fine.” I nibble on a piece of chicken. Choke it down. Thorny’s watching, I realize, waiting for a flaw to pounce on. Meeting his gaze, I grin as sweetly as I can. So good am I. “Marvelous, actually. I learned so much—”

“Maryanne,” Thorny interjects. It’s not so much of a warning as a gentle tug on that stupid invisible leash. Watch yourself.

Ignoring him, I face Elaine. “How was your day, Ellie?”

“Not too bad,” she replies, beaming. “I’m just getting my final notes together. I go on assignment in a few months.”

Assignment. “You’re leaving?”

“Just for work, and long after you graduate.” She sounds so excited. So proud. “I’m examining the lives of some of the indigenous cultures of Central America.”

Oh. All of a sudden, the scene on the balcony makes more sense.

“Were you talking to a subject on the phone earlier?” I ask.

Because good, real people notice the actions of those around them and parrot them back. To make them feel seen. Heard. It’s called reflecting, according to my therapist. It lets the people around you know that you care. It’s nice.

“A what?” Elaine goes three shades paler than her thick screen of makeup. She’s a golden face perched atop an ivory body. “I… Um, yes,” she says, her gaze flicking toward Thorny and back. “Just a subject. A friend.”

“You’re going on assignment again?” Thorny makes the question sound oh-so harmless.

But where I accidentally stepped into a verbal bear trap, he throws a grenade.

“We t-talked about this.” Elaine flattens her hands against the table, fighting to keep her smile wide. “Belize. For six weeks. We talked about this.”

“Have we?” Thorny cocks an eyebrow and pushes back from the table. “I’ll be in the study.”

He leaves, and Elaine clears her throat, piling salad onto her plate. “We’ll just…finish eating,” she says. “Tell me more about your day, huh?”

“It was fine,” I say.

And nothing else.

We play our charade in silence as Thorny’s footsteps echo throughout the house, making it very clear that he’s not in the study. He’s heading toward the balcony. Even as the rain falls.

He stands out there and lets every drop pelt him on the way down.