For traceit, christierrr and Greys has become my life. I'm so grateful that you take the time to let me know your thoughts.
11
You might think I'd spend the next two days mulling over Emma's words, considering her advice, deciding she was right or wrong or both or something, but you'd be incorrect. Instead I did what I always do with things I don't want to think about and just ignored everything she'd said completely. It was easy enough, considering how much practice I'd had, and so I made up my mind about Wednesday based not on her advice but on my own feelings. I decided to go because I had nothing to do and anyway there was nothing to be afraid of (liar), bid Will a polite farewell in his choir room and return home two days later as planned. There was no reason to deviate from any of this. Perhaps I'd have to return to Lima at some point in the future to make sure the sale of the house was going forward smoothly, but if that happened and I found myself lonely I would certainly not try to get in touch with Will. I'd go to a different bar and pick up someone else, one man being pretty much the same as another in the dark.
I felt very smug about these decisions, the same kind of smugness I feel when I really want to eat an entire batch of brownies but have some plain yogurt and fruit instead. And because I'm a masochist I usually eat it while staring at the brownies, inhaling their warm aroma and thinking This is the definition of self-control. The satisfaction I derive from that little bit of disordered eating is very similar to the satisfaction that filled me when I thought of how I was going to see Will and then walk nonchalantly away. It should have worried me that I was equating that choice with something that required self-control, but it didn't because I'm not nearly as smart as I like to think I am.
Anyway, time stood still as it is wont to do whenever I'm looking forward to anything, and I was looking forward to Wednesday the way I used to look forward to sold-out stadium shows. Not because of Will, of course (liar), but because I was so bored. Emma had a job and a life and therefore was not available to entertain me constantly (though she did call twice just to chat, which I secretly loved, even though she spent most of the time gushing about the man she was interested in who, well, he'd been slightly distant lately but things were complicated for him and…), and so I was back to going crazy, dodging the ghosts in the hallway and watching the same episode of Dexter over and over again because I just couldn't concentrate. About the only thing I accomplished between Monday and Wednesday afternoon was writing a decent little piece of music, something that might possibly become a decent song when I had the ability to really focus on it. So that was something at least.
Wednesday found me at William McKinley High School, slightly early at 3:15. Classes had just ended for the day, and there were still kids streaming out the doors and into their parents' waiting cars and arms. I tried to stay out of their way and keep my head down, though I wasn't too worried about being recognized. Sadly, I'd accepted the necessity of putting aside my vanity for the sake of my disguise, and I was in full Honor Castlereagh regalia. I'd donned a soft grass green off-the-shoulder sweater and a knee-length dark denim skirt, pulling it all together with some low-heeled gray boots. I'd even donned a new cabbie hat (gray with a bow) for the occasion, and tucked my hair underneath just to be safe, which made me look like a lovable urchin of some kind. When I caught my reflection in one of the classroom windows as I wandered by, searching for the choir room, for a moment I thought I was an extra in Newsies. So… Perfect, I guess.
What was not perfect was the fact that I had no idea where I was going. The hallways of the school were abnormally labyrinthine, twisting and turning and doubling back on themselves, I swear, and after a few minutes I was completely lost and unfortunately late and why on earth was it so difficult to find the damn choir room? I spotted a rectangle of light on the tile, signaling an open door halfway down the hall, and I poked my head in, pleased to see there was someone inside, an older woman sitting at a desk.
"Excuse me," I began, and the woman looked up from the journal in which she was writing. Her face was strong and handsome, nicely framed by short blonde hair, yet she had a hardness about her that was extremely off-putting. Also, she was wearing a red tracksuit for some reason.
"Can I help you?" The exasperated tone in her voice perfectly matched her hard appearance.
"Maybe?" I answered, though it came out as a question rather than the statement I intended it to be, and that was odd because obviously I'm the confident type. "I'm looking for the choir room, I'm here for glee rehearsal."
She gave me an appraising glance, piercing eyes lingering on my face in an unsettling way, before raising her eyes skeptically. "Aren't you a bit old for it?"
I was kind of getting the impression that this woman was a bitch. "I'm not actually here to rehearse," I informed her, drawing myself up to my full height, which I saw when she rose in no way matched hers. "I'm a friend of the director's, he invited me to see his kids perform."
The woman's unpleasant expression immediately disappeared, replaced by a sweet smile I definitely didn't trust. "Oh, you're a friend of William's? Well I can take you to him, just come right this way." She made a hokey come along kind of gesture, and I got the feeling she was mocking me with it somehow.
"Thanks," I said, trying to figure out her angle. My years in LA had given me a very good radar for insincerity (though it was somewhat useless as pretty much everyone in the city set it off), and this woman was registering quite high on the "ulterior motives" scale. Also, I didn't like the way she'd said Will's name, almost condescending and… I don't know. I just didn't like her. But I did follow her, because she knew where I was meant to be going and I did not.
"I'm Sue Sylvester," she told me with another of those poisonous sweet smiles. "I coach the Cheerios, our competitive cheerleading squad. You've probably seen us on ESPN."
"The name doesn't ring a bell," I answered, wondering why on earth ESPN would show competitive cheerleading- like, is it a sport?- "but it is possible. I'm Honor Castlereagh."
"What a unique name. Honor. Castlereagh." She repeated my name, drawing out the syllables as though testing them.
I decided I didn't appreciate the way she said my name any more than I did the way she said Will's. "Yeah, it's a family thing."
There was a long, awkward pause, with only the sound of her sneakers squeaking on the tile floor punctuated with the tapping of my boot-heels to break it until she spoke again. "How long have you known William? Where did you meet?"
She was fishing, using a tone of false companionship as her bait (just two girls, gossiping together!) and it made me nervous because I couldn't help but wonder what she was fishing for. She seemed quick, and god knew there was plenty to catch. "Oh, awhile." I made my answer as vague as possible. "We're both interested in music, so that's how we met."
"Oh, are you a musician?"
The question was asked so casually that I knew she was at least a little suspicious. I shrugged, as a too-vehement denial would likely be a dead giveaway. "Not really," I said indifferently. "I can play the piano a little, but really I just like watching others perform. Will is a very talented performer," I added, voice sincere because of all the assertions I'd made so far, that was the only one that was true.
"That's interesting," she murmured. "You just really remind me of someone. Who am I thinking of? The woman with the grating voice and the sappy lyrics and the Grammys?"
Only one of those accusations is true. To my shame, I do have a few Grammys, but the voting for them has been much less rigged in recent years so they're perfectly respectable. And also this woman was far too sharp, saw far too much, for my comfort. Again, I shrugged, hoping my casual attitude was believable. "You're probably thinking of Norah Castle. I get that a lot. It's kind of flattering, really; she can't sing her way out of a paper bag, but she's got a great ass." Hey, I believe in telling the truth whenever possible.
Sue snapped her finger and pointed at me. "Yes! That's the one! Norah. Castle." She gave no indication as to whether or not I had assuaged her suspicions, and that fact only increased my nervousness.
Coming to a halt in front of a set of double doors, she turned to me. "Well, here we are. Soon you'll be listening to the dulcet tones of our very own glee club. I really wish I could stay, but I have to go mix up a protein shake, and then I'm doing an interview with SI." She gave me an indulgent look upon seeing my blank expression. "That's Sports Illustrated. Tell William I said hello. It was nice to meet you. Honor. Castlereagh."
There was a sense of foreboding deep in the pit of my stomach. I wasn't sure whether I had fooled her or not, and it wasn't the kind of thing I could afford to be uncertain about.
TBC