Chapter Ten: In Which I Take Advantage of the Open Window, or, Snooping in the Bushes

Thirty minutes later, Glass’ session started.

  “Ms. Glass Farthingdale,” Dr. Livesely said. “We’ve met once before, on your first day, but I will reintroduce myself. I am Dr. Livesely. Please sit down.”

  From my position wedged in the bushes just under the doctor’s open window, I could hear everything remarkably well. Although it was rare for anyone to be in the empty yard behind Dr. Livesely’s office, I could understand now why he always insisted on keeping the window shut.

  I heard both Glass and the doctor sit down. There was the rustling of paper and the tapping of a pearl-handled pen on the wooden desk. My heartrate increased tenfold in anticipation.

  Dr. Livesely finally spoke. “How are you finding things at Norlocke? Are you settling in well?” When she didn’t immediately respond, he added, “Is there anything you’ve been facing over the course of this past week that’s been causing you any difficulties?”

  “No,” was the curt reply. Apparently, I didn’t count. That was a relief.

  “Well then, if you don’t mind, I’ll just ask you a few questions that will help me to know you better.”

  Glass either nodded, or her silence was consent enough for Dr. Livesely. My guess was on the latter.

  Dr. Livesely plunged right in. “It says here that you suffer from retrograde amnesia, and cannot remember anything from before eight years ago. Is this true?”

  “This is a relevant question, why?” Glass lost none of her frosty edge when addressing him.

  Because I can’t read the file, but he can, I thought.

  “Alright,” Dr. Livesely said, unphased. “Tell me about yourself.” There was a creak as he leaned back in his chair.

  “There’s nothing much to say,” Glass responded stiffly, “since I can only remember half of it.”

  “So, you are acknowledging that you cannot remember anything before eight years ago?”

  “If that’s what you wish to believe.”

  A pause. “Are you willing to talk about how you got your scar?”

  I certainly would have liked to know how she got it, but I couldn’t help wondering how that was a relevant question. Perhaps she had some trauma surrounding it, and that’s why she had issues.

  “No.” The ice in her voice blew through the window and settled down on me. Despite the awful heat, I felt cold.

  “Are you willing to discuss any of the disasters at your previous schools?”

  Interesting choice of words.

  “No.”

  “Alright then.”

  Another long pause. The pearl-handled pen went to work. I heard it scratching along a piece of paper. It eventually stopped, but the silence continued.

  I found this very irritating. Most likely, I’d never have such a perfect opportunity for snooping like this again, and yet I’d barely learned anything. There had been some new and interesting information, but it was all rather vague, and there was still so much more to discover, sitting tantalizingly just out of reach, somewhere on Dr. Livesely’s desk. Besides, lying under a bush, trying not to breathe or make any other sort of noise, and attempting to ignore the branches digging into you, was quite difficult. Would it still be worth it, even if they didn’t say anything else? Yes. But just barely.  

  Finally, Dr. Livesely spoke. “What about your guardian, Mr. Raphael Endicott? Would you care to tell me more about him? Do you have any idea why he would have sent you here? What, perhaps, he is hoping you will be able to overcome?”

  “No.”

  More pen scratching. Then, “Ms. Farthingdale, I hope you know that our sessions are confidential. I will not repeat anything spoken here to anyone else. I’m not here to judge you. I’m here to help. I hope you know that you can trust me.”

  Silence. Although disappointed, I couldn’t help but smile slightly. Saying even, “I find it difficult to trust people I’ve just met,” would’ve been too revealing. Glass Farthingdale knew what she was doing.

  “I can’t help you, Ms. Farthingdale, if you don’t talk to me.”

  Surprisingly, Glass responded after only a moment’s hesitation. Even more surprisingly, she said, “Fine; I’ll talk to you.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Where would you like to start?”

  Her next words gripped my heart with both shock and fear.

  “I would like to start with Caroline Wintersmith.”

Chapter Eleven: In Which I Learn the Meaning of Confidentiality, or, The Session Continues

For the space of five horrible seconds, but what felt like much longer, terror completely engulfed me. My body felt like lead, and my brain buzzed with thoughts so fast I could barely comprehend them. Did Glass somehow know I was there? Should I try to escape? What if Dr. Livesely found me? Why did Glass want to talk about me? What were her intentions? Why bring me up now, when she hadn’t earlier?

  At the end of those five seconds, Dr. Livesely, unperturbed as ever, said, “Very well. Why Ms. Wintersmith?”

  His words brought me back into the moment. Despite every muscle in my body telling me to flee, or at least to move further into the shadows of the bushes, I stayed exactly where I lay. Moving was too dangerous. If Dr. Livesely and Glass were unaware of my presence, an attempted escape on my part could lead to their finding me out. Besides, Glass might suspect that I was lurking nearby, as she had probably noticed the open window as well, but it was unlikely, and highly improbable that she knew for sure. Even if, somehow, she did know that I was listening in, there was a chance that she might not tell Dr. Livesely that I was hiding under the window. Of course, if she did, I was in huge trouble. But if she didn’t, then it only meant that she was going to tell him something else. And whatever that was, whether it was ratting on me about watching her or a different subject altogether, I wanted to know so that I’d be prepared. Currently, my safest course of action was staying put.

  “She has been bothering me,” was Glass’ response to Dr. Livesely’s question. At this, I became fairly convinced she knew I was listening in.

  The pen scraped something down. “How so?”

  Great. Please don’t mention any suspicions about me watching her. I didn’t need Dr. Livesely breathing down my neck about that.

  “I’d rather not say,” Glass responded, which filled me with almost as much fear as it did relief. “I’m still trying to figure it out myself.”

  “I’d love to help, Ms. Farthingdale, but I’m not sure how. Have you spoken to the Headmaster at all?”

  “No. And I’m sure you can help much more than the Headmaster.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit.

  “How can I help?” Dr. Livesely asked. “I want you to understand that you can trust me.”

  “Tell me about Caroline Wintersmith.”

  Somebody gasped quietly, and I fervently hoped that it hadn’t been me. My heartrate, which had finally begun to slow from its earlier dramatic spike, picked up again.

  “Ms. Farthingdale, I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Glass’ voice, cold and threatening, filled the room. “I believe you know exactly what I mean.”

  There was silence again, and in its depths, I sensed hesitation. Dr. Livesely’s hesitation.

  A pang of betrayal shot through me. How could he? After always going on about confidentiality, now here he was, actually considering breaching that contract and gossiping about me to another client? My fists clenched in anger.

  And what did Glass think she was doing? Why was she tempting Dr. Livesely this way?

  “Why is she here? What does she have to overcome?” Glass asked, voice low, twisting the doctor’s words into her own. “What is her problem?”

  Dr. Livesely cleared his throat, hopefully to tell her to stop her nonsense and remind her of doctor-client confidentiality. He didn’t. Instead, he said, “I’m not sure how this will help you.”

  I fumed. The dirt directly underneath my hands was crumbled to dust.

  “Does she fight?” Glass asked.

  I should’ve just let her hit me in the library. A bloody nose would be a thousand times better than even one student at Norlocke knowing the answer to that question.

  “She did,” Dr. Livesely said shamelessly. “She was expelled from two schools for fighting.”

  I was never speaking to him again.

  “What else?” Glass asked.

  Next time I saw her, she’d have a bloody nose.

  “Nothing, at the moment,” Dr. Livesely said, “because your time is up.”

  I heard Glass rise from her chair and head for the door.

  “Next time,” Dr. Livesely called after her, “I hope that you’ll tell me about yourself. You can trust me.”

  Oh, sure, I thought sarcastically.

  “I think,” Glass said, “that you have just proven that I cannot.”

  The doorknob rattled, the door creaked, and Glass’ resolute footsteps echoed as she strode down the hallway.

  My desire to punch her in the nose lessened slightly.