A Tale of Two Proms (Bard Academy) by Cara Lockwood

was a confident guy, Ryan.
    Hana nodded. “Sure. Whatever.”
    “I need to study, too!” Lindsay said, quickly. “Can I come?”
    “Lindsay, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I said.
    “Why not?” Hana asked. She really was clueless. Hana glanced over at Lindsay. My sister had grown on Hana in the last year. Everyone had been a little put off by her aggressive friendliness, but eventually she’d won them over. She usually did that to people.
    “I just really need a lot of…. help,” Ryan said.
    “If you want to be tutored by Hana, Lindsay, you can come by her room after dinner,” I offered.
    Lindsay sent me a look threatening death, but I didn’t care. Ryan wasn’t into her, and she had enough problems on her own without getting into a love triangle.
    Hana seemed to take this answer at face value. “Okay. Whatever.”
    Lindsay, however, pouted the rest of the way to B Hall.

C HAPTER F OUR
     
    “Today we’re going to talk about the use of doubles in A Tale of Two Cities ,” said Coach H, as he stood by the blackboard at the front of the classroom. “Any one of you lamebrains want to give me an example from the book?”
    Coach H regularly insulted us, but he did so with affection. I didn’t mind. Hana raised her hand. But then, she always did. If you wanted an answer about a classic, she was your go to girl.
    “Yes, Hana.” Coach H nodded at her.
    “Charles Darnay and Sydney Carton,” she said.
    “Yes. Other examples?”
    Surprising me, Blade held up her hand next. She wasn’t always on top of her reading assignments. She liked to spend study time casting Wiccan spells or making potions. Blade liked to think she was an amateur witch. As far as I knew, she didn’t actually have any powers, except the profound talent for really stinking up a dorm room with potions whipped up in her hotpot. 
    “The two cities,” Blade said. “London and Paris.”
    “Very good,” said Coach H. “Anyone else?”
    I found my mind wandering. Normally, I liked English and Coach H was one of my favorite teachers. But today I felt antsy. Now that the distraction of the Ryan-Hana blossoming love match was not right in front of me, my thoughts fell back to Catherine and Heathcliff. I wasn’t going to feel safe until I was sure Catherine was gone from campus.
    I shifted in my chair but I couldn’t settle down. The desk and chairs at Bard were designed to be uncomfortable and they were all bolted to the floor in case anybody got the idea of stealing them. Or throwing them for that matter. Either outcome was possible, given that there were quite a few kids here with some serious behavioral problems. Parents didn’t send their honor students to Bard. If you were here, you usually had a problem. Or, your parents were the problem.
    Like in my case.
    I’d been sent here after I wrecked my Dad’s cherry red BMW convertible. I realize this sounds bad. Technically, I didn’t even have my driver’s license yet. And I hadn’t had permission to drive his car.
    On the face of it, sure, I deserve to be sent here. But, the fact was I wasn’t having a joyride. I had taken the car because I was going to pick up Lindsay from school where she was stranded and needed to escape a very mean bully. My divorced parents had forgotten whose turn it was to get her. I was being a good big sister, but Dad didn’t see it that way. He thought it didn’t matter why I’d broken the rules, just that I’d broken them. And he’d never really listened to my side of the story. Dad was never very good at listening.   
    It’s no wonder he can’t keep a wife. Last summer, he’d divorced his third wife, Carmen. I had never liked her, so it’s not like I was particularly sad to see her go, but I also hated it when Dad was single. He would start up again with the Rogaine and the spray tan again.  Seriously--enough said.
    But, whatever. I was glad I was hundreds of miles away and didn’t have to deal with it. Dad had his own problems