A dead pigeon was lying there, the string used to choke it still around its neck. My father looked at me and then pushed my mother, brother, and sister away as he stepped out and closed the door behind him. My mother brought her closed fist to her mouth.
“Who did that to the bird?” Randall asked.
“Go sit in the living room until Daddy tells you it’s all right to leave,” my mother replied.
I moved forward quickly to take their hands and lead them away. No one spoke. We heard my father come back in quickly and go to the kitchen. My mother followed him. We could hear my father calling the police. After another minute or so, my mother came to the living room.
“You all go to school now,” she said. “Don’t say anything to anyone about this. Let your daddy handle it. Understand?”
Randall and Andrea, still quite shaken, nodded quickly.
I looked at the floor to avoid my mother’s eyes. This was entirely my fault. All I had done was bring terror and fear to our doorstep. Andrea and Randall got up slowly and headed out, moving like they had to walk over hot coals.
“You wait for us,” my mother told me. “We’re going with you to school. Your daddy wants to talk to Dean Becker.”
“That will just make things worse,” I said.
“Corliss!” she snapped. I looked down again and waited for my parents to get ready to go with me. My father would drive us.
One way I could always tell when my father was on the verge of absolute rage was by how the backs of his hands looked when he squeezed them into fists so tight that they paled. The veins would become embossed, and his knuckles pushed out so hard that I thought they would tear through his skin. He grasped the steering wheel like that. All the way to the school, he was silent. My mother sat looking out the window but seeing nothing. I thought my heart had stopped twenty minutes ago. My chest felt full of cement.
After we arrived at school, I tried to avoid eye contact with the other students en route to Dean Becker’s office. He was standing outside his inner office, talking to his secretary, when we appeared. My father seemed to swell in size as he entered first. The dean took one look at him and my mother and me and quickly opened his inner office door. He didn’t even say “Good morning” or “How can I help you?”
We entered, and he followed quickly, closing the door behind him and rushing to get behind his desk. Perhaps he thought that was protection. He was a slim man, maybe five foot nine, with short reddish-brown hair. Before he could say a word, my father held out his smartphone. Dean Becker took it gingerly and looked at the picture on the screen.
“Where was this?” he asked.
“Our front door. Just now,” my father said. “I’ve informed the police. They’re coming by to get it and see what they can find out, but you don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to know who did it and why.”
Dean Becker nodded and looked at me.
“You call those girls in, and you read them the riot act,” my father ordered.
“The ones involved in the drug deal yesterday have been expelled. I don’t have any jurisdiction over them.”
“They have friends, and you know who they are. I don’t want my daughter harassed or threatened. Or harmed!” he added, raising his voice.
The dean sat slowly. “I’ll bring the principal in on this and wait for what the police tell you. I’ll inform all of Corliss’s teachers to stay alert to anyone threatening her in any way, and I’ll personally stay on it,” he promised. He turned to my mother. “For a while, you might want to escort her to and from school, Mrs. Simon.”
“My wife works, and so do I,” my father said. “I expect that you and this institution can handle some nasty teenage girls.”
Dean Becker almost smiled. “I’ll do what I can. We all will.” He turned to me again. “Don’t regret helping us rid this school of drugs.”
“That’s not her job,” my father said. “If everyone had given her the benefit of the doubt when she was abused, she wouldn’t have done what she did.”
That surprised me. He was actually criticizing himself as well. The dean nodded.
“We have to get back to the house and then to work,” my father said. “You come to the dean if anyone bothers you, Corliss. Understand?”
I nodded.
“I’m sorry for your trouble. We’ll do the best we can to handle it, and don’t forget to let me know what the police think. I’ll have our security alerted,” Dean Becker told him.
My father nodded at my mother, and I followed them out. The homeroom bell had rung.
“I’ll take today off,” my mother told me outside the office. “I’ll be here when school ends.”
“You don’t have to do that, Mom. I’ll—”
“You just listen now, Corliss,” my father said. “No more brilliant ideas.”
I nodded and walked off to my homeroom.
Sometimes news gets converted to electric energy and passes so quickly through the student body that anyone would think it was written on the walls in the hallways and classrooms. Before the bell rang to send us to our first-period class, the school’s security guard, Mr. Baylor, was at my homeroom door. I saw the looks of satisfaction on the faces of some of Lily’s and Marsha’s friends as he observed them and then trailed behind me down the hallway.
What had I accomplished? Even Jackson looked too terrified to approach me. He glanced at me and hurried along with his friends. One could sense the tension in the building all day. It was as if a wave of oppressive heat had slipped in through the doors and windows. Voices were subdued; everyone moved cautiously, like people afraid of some potential bomb. Something more nasty directed toward me was anticipated. Whatever it was, it was on hold because of all the awareness. I could hear the tension in my teachers’ voices. Maybe it was my imagination, but most avoided asking me questions or even looking my way, perhaps thinking they were somehow endangering me. Let me be invisible.
I felt terrible when I saw my mother waiting for me at the end of the day. The peals of laughter behind us were more like darts and arrows sent in our direction. She asked me how things had gone during the day.
“I don’t remember,” I said. “It was like walking through a thick fog.”
The police began something of an investigation, but with all the serious crimes on their docket, we didn’t expect any results. About an hour after one of the quietest dinners we’d had in our house, the phone rang. It was Mr. VanVleet, our high school guidance counselor. He had an unusual request. He wanted to come to our house to speak with my parents and me.
“Oh, this place is a mess!” my mother moaned when my father agreed.
“I don’t think that will matter right now,” my father said. “He said he had a solution for us and something wonderful for Corliss.”
My parents sent Andrea and Randall to their rooms just before Mr. VanVleet arrived. The four of us went to the living room, where he began by handing us a brochure for a place called Spindrift. It was clearly a private school.
“Why are you showing us this?” my father asked. “It looks like an expensive place.”
“It would be, but Corliss would go there on a full scholarship.”
My father pulled himself back.
“This is a college?”
“No. It’s a special private school designed to serve students like Corliss. A little while back, I submitted her information, and I followed up with a phone call yesterday. They want her to attend. It’s like a college. There are dorms, but it’s quite different from an ordinary school.”
My father looked at the brochure again.
“Looks fenced in.”
“Oh, security is important. It has the most sophisticated technological security.”
My father nodded. “Impressive,” he said.
“This is actually a very special school, specifically designed for
students like you, Corliss,” Mr. VanVleet said. “They take in only fifteen students a year. The principal is a renowned child psychologist, Dr. Jessie Marlowe.”
“You mean, it’s like a mental institution?” I said dryly.
“Oh, no. It has the most advanced learning facilities. It’s in Piñon Pine Grove in the Coachella Valley, not more than two hours from Los Angeles. She won’t be that far from home,” he said, directing this at my mother.
“Maybe that’s not far enough,” I said.
“Look. I’m not trying to get rid of you, Corliss, but you and I both know that you’re not being challenged here. You will be challenged there.”
“And you’ll be safe,” my mother said, practically whispering to herself.
I looked at her and at my father. This was something I could do for them as much as for myself, I thought. I flipped through the pamphlet.
“Actually, I’m pretty excited about getting one of my students into this place,” Mr. VanVleet added, smiling.
My mother looked like she was going to cry at any moment.
“It would be like going to college, I guess,” I said quickly. “My family could come see me.”
“Whenever they want. It’s a well-protected place, but they’re permissive about some things. But make no mistake, they want their students to be happy and reach the height of their capabilities. You’re going to be challenged by your fellow students. This is no walk in the park.”
I smiled. “Yes, Mr. VanVleet. That’s what we can call what I’ve been doing up to now, walking in the park.”
He smiled, too. “I’ll handle all the arrangements for you.”
“When would she go?” my mother asked.
“As soon as you want. There’s no beginning or end, no semesters as we know them.”
“You mean, she could go tomorrow?” my father asked.
“Probably. Yes. I can do that,” Mr. VanVleet said.
My father looked at me. “You want this?”
“Yes,” I said.
“If she doesn’t like it, she can always come back,” Mr. VanVleet said. “There are no penalties. You’ll have no costs.”
“Oh, there’s a cost,” my mother muttered.
I knew what she meant. There was a cost to her, to my father, to my brother and sister, and, yes, to me. I was going to be cut loose like some satellite that had broken out of the earth’s pull and would now wander out there, exploring the unknown.
In a true sense, I would never return.
My father shook Mr. VanVleet’s hand. Mr. VanVleet reached for mine. “I’m happy for you,” he said.
“Thank you.”
After Mr. VanVleet left, my mother asked me again if this was something I really wanted to do.
“Oh, yes,” I said, with as much enthusiasm as I could. It was enough to satisfy her and put her at ease, but I was sure she would go to sleep in my father’s arms after she had cried.
I didn’t cry.
My family memories were strong. The things I did with my parents, even before my brother and sister had come along, returned to my thoughts. There were hugs and kisses, and my father’s hand holding mine always gave me a sense of security. I know it troubled him that he couldn’t provide that protection absolutely now. I knew my mother would miss hugging me, talking to me, seeing me beside her while preparing dinner or for some holiday celebration. My room would ring with its hollowness, its emptiness. She might want to keep the door closed.
Just before I went to sleep, I toyed with calling Jackson, but what I feared most was the note of relief I would hear in his voice when I told him.
Better that I was just not there anymore, I thought. Let him forget me if he could. My ego wished he couldn’t.
But suddenly, it didn’t matter.
There was too much ahead of me that did.
Before I fell asleep, I had a vision. The pigeon on the stoop turned, got to its feet, shook the string off its neck, and flew away.
Just like I would.
Welcome to Spindrift, the exclusive academy for genius girls.
She's caught in a violent clash between two boys, and the other girls blame her.
Donna
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Mastering high school is much easier than mastering her heart . . .
Bittersweet Dreams
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More great reads from V.C. Andrews!
Elle's mother told her she was born without a soul. . .
The Unwelcomed Child
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ABOUT
V.C. ANDREWS®
One of the most popular authors of all time, V.C. Andrews has been a bestselling phenomenon since the publication of Flowers in the Attic, first in the renowned Dollanganger family series, which includes Petals on the Wind, If There Be Thorns, Seeds of Yesterday, and Garden of Shadows. The family saga continues with Christopher’s Diary: Secrets of Foxworth, Christopher’s Diary: Echoes of Dollanganger, and Secret Brother. V.C. Andrews has written more than seventy novels, which have sold over 106 million copies worldwide and have been translated into twenty-five foreign languages. Join the conversation about the world of V.C. Andrews at Facebook.com/OfficialVCAndrews.
FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR: Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/V-C-Andrews
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V.C. ANDREWS® BOOKS
THE DOLLANGANGER FAMILY
Flowers in the Attic
Petals on the Wind
If There Be Thorns
Seeds of Yesterday
Garden of Shadows
Christopher’s Diary: Secrets of Foxworth
Christopher’s Diary: Echoes of Dollanganger
Secret Brother
THE AUDRINA SERIES
My Sweet Audrina
Whitefern
THE CASTEEL FAMILY
Heaven
Dark Angel
Fallen Hearts
Gates of Paradise
Web of Dreams
THE CUTLER FAMILY
Dawn
Secrets of the Morning
Twilight’s Child
Midnight Whispers
Darkest Hour
THE LANDRY FAMILY
Ruby
Pearl in the Mist
All That Glitters
Hidden Jewel
Tarnished Gold
THE LOGAN FAMILY
Melody
Heart Song
Unfinished Symphony
Music in the Night
Olivia
THE ORPHANS SERIES
Butterfly
Crystal
Brooke
Raven
Runaways
THE WILDFLOWERS SERIES
Misty
Star
Jade
Cat
Into the Garden
THE HUDSON FAMILY
Rain
Lightning Strikes
Eye of the Storm
The End of the Rainbow
THE SHOOTING STARS
Cinnamon
Ice
Rose
Honey
Falling Stars
THE DE BEERS FAMILY
“Dark Seed”
Willow
Wicked Forest
Twisted Roots
Into the Woods
Hidden Leaves
THE BROKEN WINGS SERIES
Broken Wings
Midnight Flight
THE GEMINI SERIES
Celeste
Black Cat
Child of Darkness
THE SHADOWS SERIES
br /> April Shadows
Girl in the Shadows
THE EARLY SPRING SERIES
Broken Flower
Scattered Leaves
THE SECRETS SERIES
Secrets in the Attic
Secrets in the Shadows
THE DELIA SERIES
Delia’s Crossing
Delia’s Heart
Delia’s Gift
THE HEAVENSTONE SERIES
The Heavenstone Secrets
Secret Whispers
The March Family
Family Storms
Cloudburst
THE KINDRED SERIES
Daughter of Darkness
Daughter of Light
THE FORBIDDEN SERIES
The Forbidden Sister
“The Forbidden Heart”
Roxy’s Story
THE MIRROR SISTERS
The Mirror Sisters
Broken Glass
Shattered Memories
THE GIRLS OF SPINDRIFT
Bittersweet Dreams
“Corliss”
“Donna”
STAND-ALONE NOVELS
Gods of Green Mountain
Into the Darkness
Capturing Angels
The Unwelcomed Child
Sage’s Eyes
We hope you enjoyed reading this Simon & Schuster ebook.
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Following the death of Virginia Andrews, the Andrews family worked with a carefully selected writer to organize and complete Virginia Andrews’s stories and to create additional novels, of which this is one, inspired by her storytelling genius.