Rod looks around as if anyone could overhear us, despite being in a nearly empty parking lot. Leaning in slightly, his voice drops.
“I got two more calls from concerned parents. Bradleigh’s presence is causing confusion among the student body. And discomfort among the parents. You understand.”
I glower at him. “No, I’m not sure I do understand. All of the kids have been great with Bradleigh. There were instancesof bullying, but as you remember, those students have been expelled due to our zero-tolerance discrimination policy.”
He nods solemnly, as if he’s about to deliver some divine truth. “Well, the parents are concerned, and one has even threatened to remove their children from Saint Helena Academy. Perhaps the situation would be easier for everyone—Bradleigh included—if she were moved to a different school. Somewhere… more accommodating to her particular needs. I’m not quite sure Saint Helena is the right fit for someone like her.”
Someone like her. What he means is transgender. My fists curl at my sides as I contemplate exactly what he’s insinuating.
Keep the complaints out of the boardroom meetings.
Send Bradleigh away somewhere more “tolerable.”
Except, that solution would never work. It would put Bradleigh, who has attended Saint Helena since she was four, and her mother, who is a hardworking single mother, in an impossible situation. They’d have to trek into Los Angeles, as Crestwood doesn’t have a public school, and I know Bradleigh’s mom would find that difficult with her work schedule.
“Easier for whom?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
Rod’s brows draw together in faux paternal concern. “These situations are always difficult to address within the framework of our institution. I know we have to respect the code of ethics, of course, but this might be best for all parties involved.”
“I disagree. I’ll talk to the other board members and see if we can have a meeting to discuss the situation. From my vantage point as headmaster,” I say slowly, knowing that term is a sore spot for Rod since he wanted the position, “all the children love and respect Bradleigh. If anyone’s parents have an issue with her, they can come to me. But I’m not going to consider asking a single mother to uproot her daughter—hertransdaughter, who’s already dealing with enough—to transfer her to anotherschool because it’s inconvenient for us to follow our own policies.”
Rod stiffens, and to his credit, he looks genuinely affronted. “Malakai, I’m sure you can understand my predicament. I harbor no ill will for the girl, for God loves all of his creatures.”
My jaw rolls as I wait for him to continue. He huffs an uncomfortable laugh, rubbing his mouth.
“I’m just trying to consider what’s best for everyone. Perhaps we should hold a board meeting. I fear you might be too close to the situation to see the bigger picture.”
I take a deep breath, attempting not to say something cruel back. “We should be helping her. Educating parents. Be the leaders that children like her need. But I refuse to push her out, because I promise you, I’ll fight that every step of the way.”
Rod’s jaw tightens, and his eyes narrow. The silence stretches on as neither of us speaks, and the tension grows taut between us.
“I’ll pray on this,” he says finally, his voice clipped.
“I’ll do the same.”
Without another word, I turn and walk around to the driver’s side of my car, opening the door and pulling out of the parking lot before I say something I’ll regret.
I stew the entire drive to Ashford Palace. People like Rod hide their bigotry behind God, and it pisses me the fuck off. Then again, it doesn’t surprise me. I’ve spent the last seventeen plus years listening to my peers tear down anyone different.
I’d have to call Chase and get this settled with the board before Rod got there first.
Once I arrive at Ashford Palace, I’m ushered in without question by the security guard, and the gate closes as I pull up to the front door. Sophie’s vintage Mini Cooper sits next to the spot where Julian’s Range Rover usually sits, and as I jog to the front door, I shoot a quick text to let Julian know I’m here. Sophie hadgiven me a key last week when I was over doing some work on the crown molding while they were away for the night. I use it as I make my way inside, looking around for any signs of Sophie.
“Hello?” I call out, waiting for her to answer.
She doesn’t, so I walk through the ground floor in search of the captivating woman I’ve been getting to know over the last couple of months. My eyes take in the almost-finished additions, such as the new floors, the massive chandelier in the entryway, and the kitchen that’s only waiting for appliances to be installed. It looks good, and a sense of pride fills me.Ihelped with this—my own blood, sweat, and tears are baked into this amazing house. Most notably the latter when Sophie and I realized one of the rooms was built at a very slight angle, and we were ten planks of antique wood flooring short.
I managed to sand, stain, and age ten new pieces of wood to look almost identical, and it became an inside joke.
Still, these renovations aren’t for the faint of heart.
But now? I can see the vision Sebastian Hale Whitlock had when he built it. He was a damn genius, and I’m only slightly jealous that Julian and Sophie were able to purchase this obscurely famous house.
“Sophie?” I call out at the bottom of the stairs.
Still no answer.
My pulse spikes at the lack of answer, and I imagine the worst-case scenario—that she’s unconscious, or worse. Julian didn’t elaborate, but I assume that if it were an emergency, he would’ve called an ambulance instead of asking me to check on her. She’s probably sleeping or something.
