DETENTION

9. Visitor

I hurried to my bathroom, took a shower, brushed my teeth, and went back to change clothes. I didn't know why I was so frantic about what to wear when we were only meeting in the house. When I opened the closet, I scanned for something I never wore at school. There were new clothes but they seemed to not fit the situation. I should wear something casual but pleasant. Mine were mostly party clothes and something I'd wear when going outside meeting people or shopping.

I had nothing to wear!

For the first time in my whole precious life, I had thought about my closet being so worthless.

He's going to be here in a few minutes but I was still on my bathrobe, hair dripping wet, and face pale. I wasn't going to face him like this. I stared at the closet, put both hands on my hips, and patted the floor with my foot impatiently.

I could ask a maid to buy something new for me but there was no time. It was so embarrassing. If he's going to find out I was so nervous about what to wear when he's coming over, I think I'd faint. I was acting so obsessed and stupid.

Just think of him as a normal schoolmate coming over to visit you, I told myself.

But he was not just my normal schoolmate. And most times, he intimidates me. I feel like he was too good - that I need to prep so much to match him. To at least make me good enough.

And then a faint sound of a doorbell came. I literally squeaked and jumped at the same time. Without thinking, I pulled anything my hands would touch inside the closet and brought them in bed. I hurriedly took a towel and covered my hair with it for the moment. I was moving so fast I didn't know how much time it took me to finish changing. I was drying my hair with a hairdryer when a knock came to my door. I hurriedly turned the dryer off, picked my phone from the bed and put it inside my pocket, went to the door and fingercombed my hair before opening it. I tried to act casual and calm.

"Miss, a man is waiting for you downstairs." It's Katarina, our Mexican maid, about 20 years old.

I swallowed and hoped I wouldn't sound too excited. "Who is it?" Though I know who it was, I still had to stop being excited.

She hesitated, "I . . . I'm really sorry, Miss. I forgot to ask him, he looked so scary. Perhaps I should go back and ask him." She motioned to move away but I grabbed her arm.

"Wait," Ian doesn't look scary. He even looked angelic. "It's not Ian?"

Her eyes widen a little in confusion, "Miss?" She flashed a questioning look.

Oh, she didn't know Ian. Of course, when he went here, he was only outside the gates talking only to my Dad.

"Oh, I mean, is it someone blonde?" I asked hopefully.

"No, Miss." She furrowed her eyebrows, "He's got a . . . um, dark auburn?" It sounded like a question. But my eyes widen as she said it.

"Fudge," that's all that came out of my mouth before I darted to the stairs.

What was Keith Dawson doing in my house? Was this about our last conversation? Maybe he really got angry. He was not the patient type. And my parents weren't here. My maids were women. Our gardener was a man but he was probably outside, gardening. And our house's outside walls were soundproof. The security guards were outside, too. Our two drivers were men but they were probably driving for my parents. I had one driver to myself but he was sent to his day-off since my first day of suspension. It's the only punishment my parents gave me. That's why when I went to the mall, I drove for myself.