A/N: The pictures above is what I imagine the school uniforms to look like
I adjusted my blazer, slinging my bag over my shoulder as I exited my room. Heights Country Day School, a prestigious prep institution, demanded formal attire, and today was no exception. As I reached the front door, the sound of footsteps echoed behind me.
"Cal, wait!" I turned to find Jameson bounding down the stairs, his tie draped casually over his shoulders.
"I think you forgot to tie your tie," I remarked, closing the distance between us.
"Maybe I didn't forget," he replied with a shrug, prompting a sigh from me as I reached up to knot it for him.
Once his tie was properly secured, I turned towards the door. "Come on, if we want to catch a ride, we must get going." Jameson swung the door open, and together, we stepped outside.
However, before I could head towards the car, Jameson halted me.
"This is the second time you've stopped me; I'm starting to think you don't want to go to school today," he remarked.
"I showed Avery my letter," he explained.
"What did she make of it?" I asked,
"Don't know, I need to ask," he replied before settling into the seat. "You read my letter," Jameson directed towards Avery, who sat across from us.
"Xander need a ride?" Oren, our driver, interrupted.
"Xan goes to school early on Fridays for extracurricular activities," I explained.
"You okay with company?" he added,
"It's fine," she assured us.
As Oren started the car, he glanced back. "She's the package. If there's an incident..."
"You save her first," Jameson finished, leaning back in his seat. "Grandfather always said Hawthorne males have nine lives. I can't possibly have burned through more than five of mine."
I rolled my eyes. "Once again, it's possibly not true that you have nine lives."
"Correct, I have around four," Jameson retorted with a smirk.
"Here," Avery said, handing Jameson her letter. I watched over his shoulder as he opened it, revealing only two words: I'm sorry, signed by T.T.H.
"That's it?" Jameson questioned.
"Do you know what he's apologizing for?" I asked, puzzled.
"Any great and anonymous wrongs in your past?" Jameson directed towards Avery.
"One," Avery replied softly. "But unless you think your grandfather is responsible for my mom having an extremely rare blood type and ending up way too low on the transplant list, he's probably in the clear."
"We'll come back to your letter," Jameson swiftly changed the subject. "For now, let's turn our attention to mine. Mystery Girl, what do you make of it?"
As Avery analyzed Jameson's letter, I listened intently, intrigued by her insights. "Your letter is written in proverbs," she began. "He's saying that money and power are dangerous, and the first line - better the devil you know than the one you don't - or is it? - that's obvious, right?"
"What else?" I prompted when she paused.
"Nothing is certain but death and taxes. It sounds to me like he knew he was going to die."
"We didn't even know he was sick," Jameson muttered.
"There but the grace of God go I," Avery continued. "With different circumstances, any of us could have ended up in anyone else's position."
"The rich boy can become a pauper," Jameson remarked, "And the girl from the wrong side of the tracks can become..." I trailed off, smiling.
"On the surface," Jameson said, "It appears that the letter outlines what we already know: My grandfather died and left everything to the devil he didn't know, thereby reversing the fortune of many. Why?"
"Because power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely," I answered.
"And what about you, Heiress? Are you incorruptible? Is that why he left the fortune in your hands?" Jameson stared at Avery intently. "There's more here. A play on words. A code. A hidden message. Something."
"Jamie, your grandfather signed this letter with his initials. But signed yours with his full name," I pointed out.
"And what to make of that?" Jameson pondered as we fell into a thoughtful silence.
"Almost there, the Country Day administration has been briefed on the situation. I signed off on the school's security years ago. When the boys and Catalina enrolled. You should be fine here, Avery, but do not, under any circumstances, leave the campus," Oren warned as the car pulled past a guarded gate. "I won't be far." After a couple of minutes, we arrived in front of the school.
"I hate to puzzle and run, Mystery Girl," Jameson said as I opened the door.
"But the last thing you need on your first day at this school is for anyone to see you getting cozy with us," I said, hopping out of the car followed by Jameson.
Avery's POV:
"Are you okay?" Xander asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Thea got to you, didn't she?"I handed the dragon back to him before it could explode. "I don't want to talk about Thea.""As it so happens," Xander said, "I hate talking about Thea. Shall we discuss your little tête-à-tête with Jameson last night instead?"
He knew that his brother had been to my room. "It wasn't a tête-à-tête."
"You and your grudge against French. Don't worry, your tête-à-tête will be a secret I keep. Besides, I couldn't let Cat get sad over the tête-à-tête," Xander said.
"Catalina and Jameson?" I asked, intrigued by the idea.
"No," he sighed before smiling, "One day they will be!" He said a little too loudly, I just nodded.
"Jameson showed you his letter, didn't he?" Xander asked, turning serious.
"Jameson seems to think it's a clue, though I might agree with him," I replied, turning around to see Catalina approaching.
"Xan, Avery, nice to see you."
"Hey, Cat, I was just about to show Avery my favorite places in the school."
"You were?" I asked.
"Yep! Come on," He said to me.
"Well, have fun. I should get to the Refectory. I only have a short break and I'm starving. Bye, Avery," Catalina said before nodding at Xander.
"I used to lose," Xander said as we rounded the corner. "On Saturday mornings, when my grandfather set us to a challenge, I always lost." I had no idea why he was telling me this. "I was the youngest. The least competitive. The most apt to be distracted by scones or complex machinery."
"But...," I prompted, sensing there was more to his story.
"But," Xander replied, "while my brothers were trying to take one another down in the race to the finish line..."
"What about Catalina?" I asked, eager to learn more about her relationship with the boys.
"Cat..." Xander started, "She loved the puzzles but she didn't care about the competition. When she wasn't working on them, she would hang out with me. I would generously share my scones with Catalina and the old man. He was awfully chatty, full of stories and facts and contradictions. Would you like to hear one?" He asked, smiling.
"A contradiction?"
"A fact," Xander wiggled his eyebrows. "He didn't have a middle name."
"What?" I said, taken aback.
"My grandfather was born Tobias Hawthorne," Xander explained. "No middle name."
I wondered if the old man had signed Xander's letter the same way he had signed Jameson's. Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne. He'd signed mine with initials- three of them.
"If I asked you to show me your letter, would you?" I asked Xander. He'd said that he usually came in last in their grandfather's games. That didn't mean he wasn't playing this one.
"Now, where would the fun be in that?" Xander deposited me in front of a thick wooden door. "You'll be safe from Thea in there. There are some places even she dares not tread."
I glanced through the clear pane on the door, "The library?"
"The archive," Xander corrected archly, "It's Prep School, for library- not a bad place to hang out during free mods if you're looking to get some time alone."
Hesitantly, I pushed the door open. "You coming?" I asked him. He closed his eyes. "I can't." He didn't offer any more explanation than that. As he walked away, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something.
Catalina's POV:I was about to enter the Refectory when I hear a voice.
"Cal! I found something!" I turned around to see Jameson running up to me with the giddy expression he only got when solving a puzzle.
"You always seem to yell my name right when I am to walk through a door," I said to him.
"Sorry, but anyways, come here." He dragged me over to a bench in the courtyard, pulling his letter out of his pocket.
"Look how he signed off the letter," he said eagerly.
I looked over his shoulder at the letter, "Don't Judge." I read. "Don't judge a book by its cover." I whispered. How did I not see it before?
"Exactly," he said, a grin spreading across his face.