I dip my head to get his attention, and his chin lifts with a flash of a smile when he meets my eyes. We stare at each other for a few long and slightly uncomfortable seconds, and a tightening sensation starts to grip at the space under my ribs.

  “You like Caleb?”

  He asks me pointedly, his gaze unrelenting and his eyes clouded with secrets. His teeth grip at the inside of his cheek, his jaw movements small as he chews, all the while staring with the intensity of a poker player who is suddenly all in.

  My brow draws in under the pressure, but I give a small shake to my head.

  “I don’t really know Caleb,” I say.

  His glare softens just a little, but he keeps his focus on me, reading every small tick I give. I don’t give many. I’ve never really thought about it beyond that one page in my notebook where I wrote about Caleb after the day I saw him on the lake with Henry. I wrote about Henry on that page, too—about how much I wish he would just kiss me sometimes.

  I wrote about them both.

  And he read every word.

  CHAPTER 12

  SOPHOMORE YEAR, FALL

  The first month of school has gone fast. I’m acing my classes, which is why I’ve been able to put off my second-year check-in with the counseling office. I could not cancel it completely, though.

  I’ve been dreading my next meeting with Ms. Manning. I knew that it would be uncomfortable, cringe-worthy, in fact. I’ve been replaying our awkward run-in at Mischa’s concert over and over

  Our meeting now is exactly as I pictured it.

  She’s coughed through nearly the entire twenty minutes we’ve been sitting in here together, fumbling my paperwork, spilling her water cup and forgetting her place mid-sentence at least twice. I’m pretty sure she’s been dreading this more than me.

  “Do you have any questions about this semester’s schedule, or any…requests?” She stares at me with tight lips, knowing that I don’t because she’s asked me this question already.

  I start to stand, taking my progress report in my hand, relieved that my straight As are holding up so far—even with French this semester—when she says something that drops me right back in my seat.

  “Elena is my sister.”

  There’s a lot of blinking going on now. I’m blinking…she’s blinking. And staring. We’re doing a great deal of that, too.

  “I’m sorry…” I cough pathetically and leave my open palm flat on my chest. More blinking and staring.

  “What?” I croak.

  Ms. Manning draws in a deep breath through her nose as her gaze slides away from me in thought. I take it as a sign that this is complicated. I’m not sure I want to know complicated things, at least not when I’m ensnared with them too, which I am—very much ensnared.

  “We’re not…full sisters. Step, really. My mother married her father, both widowed with one child. Her father, of course, is the man who built Havisham up into an empire, and I’m…well…” She folds her fingers together and rests her hands on her chest as she leans back, chuckling to herself. “I’m the daughter of a world-class pianist.”

  My mouth falls open slightly and a faint sound escapes with my breath, like a “huh” but not fully coherent because…what?

  Ms. Manning leans forward again, pulling herself close to her desk, then scratching at her head with wide fingers while she wears a severe wince on her face.

  “I know, I know…it’s…it’s confusing. And you really didn’t need to know, but then I saw you at the concert, and I just thought maybe you had questions. I know Elena would never say a word, and it’s maybe I just…”

  “You’re sisters.” I break into her manic stream of words, still stuck at square one. I set my schedule back down on her desk and lean forward, tucking my chin to my chest while I breathe in slowly.

  “Does Henry know?” My voice is muffled since I’ve now dropped my head between my knees.

  “Yes,” she says.

  I widen my eyes at the floor and nod where nobody can see. I didn’t expect that. Of course, I didn’t expect this either.

  “So, you’re his…aunt.” I put the one logical step together.

  “On paper, yes. I guess so. But Elena would never let me claim that. We’re not really close, I’m sure you can tell,” she says.

  I chuckle once and bring my head upright, the blood rushing down my body in a whoosh.

  “I guess the first clue would be the fact that you keep this all a secret,” I say, laughing through the end of my words.

  Ms. Manning laughs a little too, but her eyes slant with a defeated kind of sadness. We both sit quietly and stare off into space near one another but not looking each other directly in the eyes. A full minute passes before I snap my gaze to her and call her attention.

  “Your mom was a concert pianist?” I pick up on the one good part of all of this, figuring maybe there’s something here that’s useful for me. Perhaps Ms. Manning has a secret family heirloom tucked away that she wants to give me so I can play on a piano that isn’t held hostage inside that crazy house.

  “She was,” Ms. Manning says, her eyes glowing with the same reverence I get when I think of my parents. Her faint, pink lips drift into a sweet smile. “She used to travel back and forth to Europe for performances, and sometimes she would take me. Elena didn’t like to travel, but she doesn’t like to believe that’s why she didn’t go. She thinks I was just favored. It wasn’t like that, though. My mom accepted her as family, and she wanted us to be close.”

  She shakes her head and draws her lips tight.

  “We just weren’t meant to be, though.”

  Her cheeks fall with her frown as her eyes drift down to the top of her desk. She begins to stretch out her hands, her fingers forming as if they’re on a keyboard. “My mom spent so many hours teaching her to play. I was never very good, but Elena…well, you’ve heard her. She taught you.”

  “She’s remarkable,” I say softly.

  “She is.”

  My gaze flits up to my advisor, and our stares meet for a moment, a secret understanding passing through in that instant.

  “You stole Mischa from her,” I say, regretting the harsh way my conclusion comes out the moment I utter it. The guilt drops into my gut when I see Ms. Manning’s forehead dent, a pained expression lowering her eyes.

  “He was never hers. Not really. But she loved him…loves him.” Her eyes drift back up to mine.

  “I could tell,” I admit. It’s the one thing that was painfully obvious from the concert. Elena was gushing, and she also wasn’t a welcomed guest.

  “Mischa and I have been married for nineteen years. We have two daughters. You saw me with one of them that day—in the rain. I was leaving Elena’s house. I had found something in the attic while going through old boxes, and it was her father’s. Just old photographs. I figured she’d want it, so I brought it over.”

  She pauses to chuckle sadly.

  “All these years, and I still get caught up in the notion that an olive branch might solve everything. I was in her house for all of eight seconds. I think if she had a secret trap door, she would have dropped me down it in a blink.”

  I smile on one side, amused because I’ve felt that way before too. Elena has mastered the art of making people feel just on the outside. I have no idea what draws me in over and over again, though.

  That’s a lie.

  Henry. I come back for Henry. He’s this just-out-of-reach schoolgirl crush, the one I’ll tell stories about someday. He’s so arrogant most of the time, and he has all of these parts to him that are just like Elena’s worst parts, but then sometimes…sometimes he’s also sweet.

  The sheet music—that was sweet. I also found out it was rare. The writing was from the conductor who first played the arrangement at the Chicago Symphony in 1936. It’s the same arrangement Mischa played, how it was meant to sound.

  “If you’re sisters, how come you don’t have half of the Havisham fortune?” I twist my lips and look at her sideways, knowing in my gut that there’s no way Elena would share her brand with anyone. She may have loved—still loves—the same man as Ms. Manning, but not at the risk of losing her empire. Empires…they last forever.

  “I wasn’t in the will. Not for that stuff, anyway. It all went to her one-hundred percent.” Her lips purse while she delivers the explanation, and I read the half-truth that exists somewhere in the gray area.

  If I were bolder, I would come out and just ask, but for now, I’m left to wonder if it was a trade. Elena got the company all to herself while her sister got the man.

  “Lily…I wouldn’t really let Elena know I’ve told you this. It’s not that I care as much as I’m afraid she’ll get hostile toward you. She might use it to manipulate you, and really, she’ll tell you horrible things about me. Some things I probably deserve, but most of it would be lies—bitter, broken lies from a woman who defines narcissism.”

  I nod as I stand, offering no such verbal contract, but giving my understanding. This information is big, and it’s an insight into something, I’m just not sure what that something is yet. And I’m not sure if I should talk about it with Henry or not. I do know one thing—I’m not asking for permission.

  Henry’s birthday is Tuesday, but we’re celebrating tonight because “Fridays are better for celebrating.” Henry’s words. What he means is Fridays are better for sneaking out of Satis and coming back way past curfew.

  Slipping away should be easy. There’s a huge bonfire party planned for the entire school out on the main lawn, and it lasts until eleven. Nicki and I left our room in the perfect state—soft music that can barely be heard through the door, beds stuffed with the dim light on so it looks like our bodies are there and we just fell asleep listening to music. The music was my touch, because inside I’m actually scared shitless about this entire thing.

  “Did you guys put fake people in your beds?” I whisper to Anya and Ava who both look at me like I’m a moron.

  “She made us find things that looked like hair. For a minute or two, I thought she was going to cut a chunk of mine off and use that to stick out of my blanket.” Nicki rolls her eyes at me and goes back to sipping on her hot chocolate while Anya and Ava laugh at my expense.

  “I’ve just never really snuck out before. I mean, what happens if we get caught?” My heart is pounding at just mentioning the possibility.

  Anya wrinkles her face a little, as if my fears are absurd.

  “They’d probably just bring us back and make us do community service on campus for a month or something,” she says. “But relax—we’re not getting caught. They don’t look in the rooms. They aren’t allowed without some sort of just cause, like if they think you’re doing drugs in there or something. But even with that, they’d need to have the police with them to inspect.”

  I hold her gaze for a few extra seconds, lowering my eyelids to really study her and read if she’s telling the truth. She tilts her head slightly after a breath, a signal that I really am being paranoid, so I let go of my breath and allow a little of the tension to relax from my shoulders.

  “Okay,” I give in.

  “There you go,” Ava says, squeezing my shoulders as if she’s about to send me into a boxing ring.

  The fire is roaring, and Henry and Caleb—along with a few other crew members and rugby players—are loading more wood in to keep it going. Just a few days shy of sixteen, Henry has gotten bolder than he was before. His rebellious side seems to guide more of his decisions. While, as my birthday looms a month away, my cautious side seems to be gathering more steam.

  It’s not that I don’t like adventure, but I’ve started to question risk a lot. Like tonight—the risk terrifies me. I’ve been working so hard, and I audition for a solo at the winter showcase soon. I have things to lose. Henry, though…he seems to want to dare fate. I’m not sure if he thinks he’s invincible or he just doesn’t care.

  The boys growl as they heave the logs into the flames, and Henry tugs his shirt from his body, pounding his chest with fists. His jeans hang on his hips, and his skin glows from the fire. He’s taller than the others, even the juniors and seniors. He looks down at them like a wild thing claiming his crown, and they seem to obey without question.

  With his arms over his head, his long-sleeved black shirt stretched between his hands and gripped over his body, Henry marches around with his face tilted toward the night sky. He’s howling—and some of the others join in. It’s obnoxious to the teachers here as chaperones but it’s harmless enough that they can’t do anything to stop him, and it’s that little bit of power that he seems to thrive on.

  His eyes land on mine mid-howl, and I can’t help but stretch my lips into an inspired grin. I waggle nervously as he starts to approach, and I flash through a short fantasy where he walks right up to me, hand cupping my face as his lips cover mine in front of every single student at Satis. I know that won’t happen, and really, it’s enough that he’s walking up to me. And we’re friends, even though he did read my girl-crush diary. Still…friends.

  “No howling for you, young cub?” He says, unfurling his shirt and opening it to place over my head. My arms had been wrapped around my body most of the night, the chill from the lake breeze a little colder than I expected. His shirt swallows me up, and I willingly push my arms through, glad to be wearing something so him.

  Friends…just friends.

  “Thank you,” I hum.

  Nicki breathes out a snarky laugh and turns her back to me, talking to Ava and Anya, and Henry’s gaze sticks to her back for a second while a smirk paints his lips. My cheeks flush, but I’m grateful that the fire hides it.

  “I’ll run up and grab something else to wear really quick so you can keep that tonight.” He steps closer and grabs both of my arms, running his palms up and down my biceps to warm me up. Heat wraps around me quickly, but it has very little to do with the friction and more about the boy giving the touch.

  “Thanks,” I say again, noticing a few girls nearby stare at me with envy. It feels good and terrifying at the same time. I don’t want to be anyone’s target.

  I blink my gaze back to Henry.

  “We’re going to leave in five minutes. Tell the others to be ready, and let’s meet by the maintenance gates.” He leans in to whisper that last part, and the faint smell of alcohol hits my nose. He seems fine, so maybe it was just some dare or something with the other guys. I rationalize it with myself by the time he’s jogged back to Caleb and the two of them are heading into the dorms.

  “I swear to god, if you wear that to bed every night without ever washing it I’m going to be sick,” Nicki says, slurping the last drops of her drink and crushing the foam cup with her sharp thumb nail.

  “You’re so jaded.” I pucker my lips at her and dare her with my stare. Nicki’s been trying to toughen me up. She says I’m too quick to hide how I really feel, and I apologize for being me too much. She’s right. And I almost made an excuse up now, telling her I was just cold and that I was going to give this back as soon as we got inside of the place we’re going, but instead I stood up to her. Her glare holds on until I almost break, but her face shifts into a proud expression, and she slings her arm around me in a sort of bro-hug before escorting me toward Ava and Anya.

  “Look at little Lily…your balls are dropping, you sweet thing,” she teases, sticking out her tongue and squishing me against her a few times as we walk.

  Nicki got her tongue pierced over the summer, and she likes to stick it out more now. I’m fascinated with the stud, but more about the logistics of it all. On move-in day, I grilled her for an hour about the process, and asked her dumb things like if she tried putting a straw through it when she drinks.

  She has not. Also, that apparently is a stupid idea. I bet Henry would do it.

  I share Henry’s plans with the other girls, and we all casually start to walk toward the maintenance area. Because I’m super paranoid, I make Anya stay back with me while Ava and Nicki leave first. I just feel like a group of four is more suspicious than two pairs a few minutes apart. Of course, because of my plan, Anya and I get to the gate just in time for the last group of boys to be hopping over a fence.

  “I was starting to think you chickened out,” Henry says, his eyes wrinkled in that teasing way along the corners. His lip tugs up on one side as he pulls on the sleeve of his shirt, which I’m wearing.

  “Just taking precautions,” I say. He laughs and ushers me closer to him, folding his hands together to give me a boost over the fence. I grab at the top and work to swing my right leg over while he thrusts my foot up with his hands. I’m glad I wore jeans, and I’m sure Ava gave everyone an eye-full in her skirt. She has tights on underneath, but still—I know where Henry’s hand is right now on me, and if it was there on her, it was definitely more intimate.

  I brush that thought off quickly, strangely getting jealous over the idea of him touching her over nylons, and instead I focus on the way his hand is gripping my thigh to hold me steady while I find my balance on the top of the gate. I glance over to the bonfire since I’m up high enough to see. Nobody is facing this direction, so I hold my breath and jump down to the other side while I’m clear.

  “Hurry, it’s clear!” I whisper to Henry through the fence. There are more people gathered behind me than I thought were coming with us. A few girls I don’t know that well, but I do recognize, and the entire crew team.

  Henry scales the gate easily, lifting himself up with his arms and bringing his feet up one at a time until he’s perched on top of the metal bar, but he stays there for just a beat too long.

  “Okay, now jump!” I whisper-shout. His lip curls and my gut sinks.

  “Henry, come on! They’ll see you!” My voice grows louder, more urgent, but still not full.