Monochrome

Betrayal

The admin building was a lot livelier inside compared to the last time Ingrid had been here, the night she stole the phone. Now there were students and staff bustling around, laughing, having conversations through open doors across hallways. Reminded her of the dorms, actually.

She and Lukas found the public phone again and called their dad. When he answered, Ingrid said, "They're trying to kill us with a plant-based diet."

"What?" said Dad.

"The whole menu is vegetarian," said Ingrid. "We'll need protein if we're going to stay in shape this year."

"That's fine," Dad said, distracted. "Get whatever you need."

"How are we supposed to get it? We can't leave."

"I guess I expect you to use whatever tools you might have stumbled across since I talked to you last time."

He was talking about the phone. She never told him that she'd gotten her hands on one. Dad was just making the assumption that Ingrid had solved the problem herself, and he was right.

"How do I pay?" said Ingrid.

"Don't act like you don't have my credit cards memorized."

She smiled. "So you're not going to yell at us when you see a big, fat charge to GNC on your credit card statement?"

"I don't care. Whatever." She realized he wasn't just distracted, he was agitated.

"You okay, Dad?"

"Actually, I'm glad you called me. I've been meaning to talk to you, but things have been busy at the university."

"What's going on?" Ingrid said. Lukas could hear the conversation, too, and a trace of concern flickered across his face.

Dad said nothing for a moment. Then, "I called your mother yesterday. Tried to talk to her about the school."

"Really? What did you tell her?"

"I told her that I don't think it's the right place for you. You both know what you want to do with your lives, and you need to be in athletic programs. A-Four doesn't have any."

Lukas looked as surprised as Ingrid felt. They'd both thought the days of their dad making an effort to talk sense into their mom were long gone.

"What did she say?" said Ingrid.

"She said she wasn't surprised that you had both chosen such Philistine careers because I was your only influence."

"And whose fault is that?" said Ingrid. "If she wanted to be an influence on us, she shouldn't have left."

"Maybe. But she thinks it's important for you to get in touch with the other half of yourselves while you're still young enough for it to do you some good. So she's not letting up. She expects you to stay there."

Lukas leaned against the wall and let his head fall back with a thump. Ingrid, however, was waiting. There was still something in Dad's voice that let her know there was more to the story.

Dad said, "When your mom and I first talked about this, she agreed one year at an art school was all she could expect from you. But now she's saying that she's had time to think about it, and she wants proof that you've actually learned something before she signs off on letting you transfer when we move."

The hair on the back of Ingrid's arms prickled. She said, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He said, "It means that if the two of you don't average a B in your art classes this year, you have to stay."