Chapter Text
The black BMW pulls into the Chilton parking lot and parks, but Jess’ stepfather makes no move to get out. His hand is still on the gear shift - for a quick getaway - as he glances over at Jess.
“So, you know what to do?” He asks, no pretenses.
Jess nods. “Yep. Go in there, talk to Charleston, go to class. Not too difficult to remember, considering you’ve told me five times a day for the past week.”
“Don’t get smart with me,” his stepfather snaps. “And fix your collar. You can’t go in there looking like you’ve just worked a double shift at a McDonalds.”
“Have you ever even been to a McDonalds? They don’t wear ties there. Or blazers. And I thought you were the caviar type or something.”
“Jess.”
Jess clenches his jaw and reluctantly tightens his tie and fixes his collar, not making eye contact. “There. Better?”
“It’ll have to do,” his stepfather sighs, exasperated. “Charleston is a good man, Jess. Don’t be rude when you go in there, okay? I don’t want to have to clean up the mess later.”
Jess frowns. “You’re not coming in?”
“I told you, I can’t. I have a business meeting with Gehrman-Driscoll at eight.”
“You’re supposed to come in.”
His stepfather scoffs. “What, do you need me to hold your hand like it’s your first day of kindergarten?”
Jess glances out the car window, watching students mill around the courtyard. “No.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“If Charleston gets mad, though-”
“It’s Headmaster Charleston-”
“If he gets mad, what do I tell him?”
His stepfather purses his lips. “Headmaster Charleston and I are well acquainted. I’m sure he’ll understand; this is a very important meeting I have to attend.”
“Right,” Jess replies, emphasizing the t. He still doesn’t look over.
“Your step-brother can take you back to the house after school. Your car won’t be fixed until tomorrow.”
Jess snorts. “It’s a cold day in hell when I get in a car alone with him.”
“There really is no need to be so melodramatic, Jess,” his stepfather scolds him.
“Oh, but I disagree.”
“How are you going to get back, then?”
“I can take the bus.”
His stepfather’s eyes widen. “The bus.”
“Yeah, a bus. You know, those things where the wheels go round and round all through the town? And the wipers go-”
“Jess.”
Jess flinches at the sharpness in his stepfather’s tone. “I can take the bus. It’s fine. I did it all the time back in New York. It should be even safer here.”
“Fine.” The silver-haired man runs a hand over his chin, evidently in thought. “Look. I know-”
“Oh, great, a classic big talk,” Jess interrupts. “Can you wait a moment until Robert Reed shows up here with a camera crew?”
“For the love of god, shut your mouth for one second,” he snaps. “You really can’t go two seconds without giving me grief, can you?”
“Well, it is my favorite hobby. The infamous stepbrother, I hate to say, isn’t too bad at it either.”
“I know that you don’t want to be here, Jess, but I am simply respecting your mother’s wishes.”
“You couldn’t have waited to send me here until next year instead of mid-April?” Jess asks dryly.
“It wasn’t up to me. And you know we can’t exactly consult your mother about it now in her..condition. Now, what are you doing once you get out of the car?”
Jess takes a calming breath. “Go talk to Headmaster Charleston.”
“At least you’re not entirely incompetent.”
“Right back at ya.” Jess stretches a bit, overexaggerating a yawn. “Well, I’ll give him your love and all that.”
“Just get out of the car. I’m not getting any younger waiting for you.”
“Obviously,” Jess mutters.
“What was that?”
Jess inhales sharply. “Nothing,” he replies, unbuckling and stepping out of the car. He grabs his messenger bag from the floor in front of his seat and slings it over his shoulder.
“Don’t be home later than five,” his stepfather says, adjusting the rear-view mirror instead of looking at his stepson.
“What? No ‘have a good day at school, son?’” Jess quips.
“Are you quite done with the comedy routine? I have to go.”
Jess grimaces and shuts the door. His stepfather puts the car into reverse and drives away, leaving Jess standing on the curb.
Jess closes his eyes, takes a breath, and walks towards the iron gates.
**
Jess feels incredibly out of place, walking down the corridor, surrounded by teenagers of varying wealth. He loosens his collar, hoping for just a little more oxygen; this place is suffocating already.
The headmaster’s office is behind two large white double doors. Jess pushes through, entering a small room with a secretary behind her desk. She doesn’t look up, even as the door swings shut.
“Hello?” Jess ventures, feeling uncomfortable.
The woman’s head snaps up, and Jess can’t help but think that she looks a lot like a vulture - a vulture with a chain on her glasses and hair pulled back so tight he can’t imagine she’s getting much oxygen to her brain.
Jess swallows, hating this. “Jess Mariano. I’m here to see the headmaster.”
She glances down at a sheet on her desk before snapping her head back up again (jeez, you’d think she’d get whiplash doing that one of these days) and nods curtly.
“One moment.”
She stands up, posture impeccable, and crosses the room to another set of double doors. She pushes the door open and walks in, leaving Jess standing there, alone. He fidgets slightly with the strap of his messenger bag until she walks back in, announcing, “Headmaster Charleston will see you now.” He remembers the first Harry Potter book he read three years ago when his mother’s boyfriend at the time bought it for him, and wishes the childish thought would go away.
The woman holds the door open for Jess as he enters the office. A rather plump and balding old man with brilliantly white hair stands there, hand extended. Jess takes it and lets the man shake it, but drops his hand immediately after.
“Mr. Mariano, I assume?” The headmaster asks congenially. Jess nods. “I’m Headmaster Charleston.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jess says curtly. He looks around the room for a moment, feeling more and more uncomfortable each passing second.
There’s no one on the couch waiting for him as he takes a seat in one of the chairs facing the headmaster’s desk. The childish part of him wishes that there was some adult here with him - not his mother, not his stepfather, but someone - but he rids himself of the thought.
Charleston sits behind his desk and looks directly at Jess. “So, Mr. Mariano,” he begins, putting on a pair of reading glasses, “you’re intelligent enough. Your teachers back in New York all said so. However,” he says, holding up a page of Jess’ transcript, “they all said you were ‘highly unmotivated, criminally rude, and rarely present,’ in some form or another. That cannot be the case here. We expect only the best here at Chilton, Mr. Mariano, and I hope you understand that.”
Jess’ jaw ticks. “Yes, sir.” It’s almost like a mantra these days.
“Not very talkative, I take it?”
“No, but something tells me this is going to keep going whether I say so or not.”
Charleston chuckles. “A sense of humor. We’re in need of that around here.”
“Glad I could contribute to the greater good.”
“You weren’t involved in any social activities back in New York,” Charleston observes, reading through Jess’ transcript.
“Nothing interested me.”
“I see.” Charleston frowns. “Your teachers all say you were an avid reader, however,” he reads, sounding a little more intrigued than before.
“Well, I know my phonetics.”
“Perhaps you’ll like our English classes here. Mr. Medina is a well-loved teacher - you’ll have him next year.”
Jess doesn’t quite make eye contact. “All due respect, sir, but I’m not really one to enjoy being told what to read. Or classes, for that matter.”
Charleston sighs, folding his hands in front of him. “Mr. Mariano, I understand if you have had some - er - clashes with your schools before, but Chilton is the best of the best. You’re here for a reason, but you have to put in effort if you want to continue attending.”
Jess nods and does not reply.
Charles goes back to his transcript, skimming through it. “Do you have any aspirations, Jess? Any goals?”
“Well, I’d love to be out of here in time for lunch.”
Charleston sighs again. “Maybe we should start simpler. What are your passions? You like to read - what can you tell me about that?”
“Give me a book and I’ll read it - as long as it isn’t Ayn Rand.”
“Not a fan of The Fountainhead?”
“Atlas Shrugged doesn’t really do it for me, either.”
Charleston chuckles again in a way that really doesn’t seem all that authentic. “See, we’re starting to lean a little bit about you.”
Jess grimaces at the headmaster’s condescending tone. “I suppose we are.”
“What else do you enjoy reading? Proust, maybe? Pushkin?”
“Not really. Poe is okay, though.”
“You got anything in there, then?” Charleston asks, gesturing towards Jess’ bag.
Jess nods. “Austen.”
“Really?” Charleston asks, surprised. “Which one?”
“Pride and Prejudice.”
“Interesting. Not a lot of young men your age would be reading Austen - willingly, that is.”
“That’ll teach you to assume, now, won’t it?”
Charleston blinks in confusion for a moment before laughing. “Oh, another joke. You’re very witty, Jess, I’ll give you that.”
“Anyone who dismisses Austen because she’s a woman and writes about women shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a library.”
“Very strong opinions, I see.”
“Just don’t have much patience for people dismissing good literature.”
“But still not a fan of Rand?”
“Not a fan of Rand,” Jess repeats.
Charleston smiles. “Anything else you’ve read? Maybe I won’t have read them - I’m in need of some recommendations, you know.”
Jess shrugs. “I don’t know. Anything by Nick Hornby is good. Or the Beats.”
“Oh, a fan of the Beats, eh?” Charleston muses. “I could never get into them much myself. Are you a fan of Kerouac, then?”
“You could say that.”
Charleston nods thoughtfully. “Well, then, you’re a reader. Have you ever thought of becoming a writer? Chilton has a wonderful creative writing program you can take starting as a junior. Or you could always join the literary magazine if you’re anxious to get to it.”
Jess stares at one of the busts the headmaster has around the room. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“Well, consider it, will you?” Charleston says. “Everyone here has promise, Jess. I’d hate to see any of my students waste the many opportunities that Chilton offers.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, then.”
Charleston’s expression becomes a bit more serious as he shifts in his seat. “Jess, I have known your stepfather for a while now. He’s investing a lot into sending you to this school, you know?”
“He’s mentioned it once or twice.”
“Chilton has one of the highest academic standards of any school in America. You’re a smart kid, Jess, but you’re beginning your academic career here at Chilton on thin ice already. I am perfectly content to discuss literature with you, but I don’t want to have to call you in here often. Now, I understand that you are starting late in the year, and aren’t used to the highly competitive atmosphere here at Chilton. We’ll be lenient for the rest of the school year so you can adjust, but starting next semester, we expect only the best from you, Mr. Mariano. You’re on the ledge already; failure isn’t an option for you. Do you understand?”
Jess’ jaw tightens. “Yes.”
“Your grades at your old school won’t have an impact on your ability to graduate Chilton, but if you continue with the patterns you kept in New York, I will have no choice to expel you. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Charleston suddenly smiles again, the dangerously serious atmosphere fading away. “Take this to Miss James in the administration office across the hall, then,” he instructs Jess, pushing Jess’ transcript file across the desk. “And have a good first day at Chilton.”