Alison Harold

"I'm not going," Alison objected, absentmindedly twirling her fork through her pasta. Her brown eyes remained fixed on the plate before her as she waited for a response she feared might never come.

Mrs. Harold paused halfway through a sip of her coffee, while Mr. Harold lowered his phone just enough to peer at his daughter over the rim of his glasses, which rested low on the bridge of his nose. His expression was one of quiet disapproval. The couple exchanged a brief glance before calmly resuming their breakfast as though Alison hadn't spoken at all.

Alison gnashed her teeth together. She had to stop this before it was too late. Her parents had controlled every aspect of her life for as long as she could remember. She had obeyed every rule, met every expectation, and never once questioned their decisions.

But this?

This was something she couldn't do. Something she wouldn't do.

She looked up at them, determination burning in her eyes. "I'm not going to boarding school."

"Alison," Mr. Harold said, his voice edged with irritation. "You know the rules. We do not speak while eating."

"But we won't get another chance to talk about this..."

"Be quiet."

"...not when the two of you leave every morning and don't come home until late at night..."

"Be quiet."

"...I barely get to see either of you."

"Be quiet!" Mr. Harold thundered.

"Please!" Alison cried, turning desperately to her mother for help—a help she already knew wasn't coming.

"There's nothing you can do about it, Alison," Mrs. Harold replied, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a neatly folded napkin. She sounded utterly indifferent. As though Alison's fears were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. "Just do as you're told," she continued. "Everything will be fine."

"But I don't want to," Alison pleaded. "Not this time."

Mr. Harold gently placed his phone on the table. "Not that it will change anything," he said, "but let's hear it. Why don't you want to go?"

"I..." What was her reason again? "Social phobia."

He regarded her with a skeptical frown. "And yet you've been visiting the library rather faithfully."

"That's different," Alison argued. "It's only three buildings away from home. It's never crowded. It's always quiet. She hesitated before adding softly, "And... I don't have to sleep, eat, and breathe around a bunch of strangers."

Mrs. Harold sighed. "Aren't you tired of homeschooling?" she asked. "You spend every day inside this house with little idea of what goes on beyond these walls." She paused. "Sometimes your father and I wonder whether this is normal."

Alison's fingers curled into a fist beneath the table.

She glared at her mother. "Are you saying this is my fault?"

"No one is blaming you," Mrs. Harold replied evenly. "But if you made a genuine effort to change, perhaps things wouldn't be so difficult."

"It's not that easy!" Alison snapped.

"Watch your tone," Mr. Harold warned, fixing her with a stern look. "And wipe that expression off your face."

Alison forced herself to inhale slowly. "I'm sorry." She unclenched her fist and leaned back against her chair.

"If you truly are," Mrs. Harold said, "then you'll accept our decision without making this any more difficult than it already is."

Alison dragged a frustrated hand through her curls. "Do you not remember what happened the last time you sent me to school?"

"What?" Mr. Harold asked coldly. "You stabbing those children?"

"They bullied me for weeks!" Alison shot back. "I was bound to explode eventually."

"That still gave you no right."

"I was ten!"

Mr. Harold's expression remained unchanged. "And you think ten is a baby? At that age, you should have known the difference between right and wrong."

"I was upset." Her voice cracked. "I was lonely and angry."

"That still doesn't justify what you did, Alison."

Alison pursed her lips. A painful ache settled deep inside her chest. She wanted to scream at them for not giving a damn about her. She had wanted—needed—them to ask why she'd been lonely.

Why she'd been angry.

Why their ten-year-old daughter had reached a point where violence had seemed like her only escape.

But they never asked. They never cared to. Their company came first. Their meetings came first. Their reputation came first. Alison came somewhere after all of that. Sometimes she wondered if she existed solely to complete the image of the perfect family they proudly displayed at business dinners, charity galas, and corporate events. Perhaps even this boarding school had nothing to do with her future. Perhaps it was just another carefully calculated move to strengthen the Harold family name. After all, she had spent nearly her entire life being homeschooled because of her social anxiety. The last time they'd forced her into a classroom, it had ended in disaster.

"Prepare a nice dress for tonight," Mr. Harold said after a long stretch of silence.

Alison's head shot up. "Huh? Why?"

"We'll be having dinner with a business partner."

Mrs. Harold frowned. "Can you not refer to him that way?" she said, sounding mildly offended before turning to Alison. "It's your Uncle Mathias and his wife, Eudora. They'll be stopping by this evening with your cousin, Anna."

Of course.

Another business dinner. One she had absolutely no choice but to attend. Just like every other one. It was only the beginning of the month, and this would already be the third dinner gathering.

"Anna is the head girl of the school," Mr. Harold informed her. "Make sure you treat her with respect."

"Assistant head girl," Mrs. Harold corrected.

"What school?" Alison sat up straighter.

"Orchid Vale." Mrs. Harold reached for her coffee as though the next words were of little importance. "The boarding school you're enrolled in."

Alison froze. "I'm enrolled?" Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You've already registered me? Without even asking me?"

"We don't require your consent to make such a decision," Mr. Harold replied, removing his glasses with a weary sigh. "You're beginning to step out of line, Alison." He set the glasses carefully on the table. "Interrupting breakfast with your constant objections will not change the fact that you'll be attending Orchid Vale Academy, just like every other teenager your age."

"Dad!" The last of Alison's composure crumbled. She slid off her chair and onto her knees beside the dining table. "Please."

"Enough!" Mr. Harold barked. The chair scraped loudly against the floor as he rose to his feet. "I've suddenly lost my appetite."

Without another glance at her, he strode out of the dining room. The silence he left behind felt almost as crushing as his words.

Alison wiped furiously at the tears streaming down her face before crawling over to her mother's side. She looked up at her with wide, pleading eyes, desperately searching her face for something—compassion, understanding, affection.

Anything.

Her vision blurred when she found none.

"Mom..." Her voice trembled. "I'll do anything... anything at all." She sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "I've been a good girl, haven't I? I haven't caused any trouble since... since what happened three months ago." Her words came faster, tripping over one another. "I promise I'll be good. I'll listen to everything you say. I won't argue anymore. I'll do whatever you want..."

"That's good." Mrs. Harold smiled faintly as she looked down at her daughter. "Very good."

Hope sparked inside Alison's chest.

"I'll hold you to your word."

Alison nodded frantically. "Yes... yes, I promise. I swear I'll—"

"Keep your promise, dear." Mrs. Harold elegantly cut into the last piece of steak on her plate before placing it into her mouth. "Be a good girl while you're at boarding school." She dabbed the corners of her lips with her napkin "Obey the rules. And stay out of trouble."

The tiny flame of hope inside Alison died instantly.

"Mom!" she wailed. "That's not what I meant!"

Mrs. Harold rose gracefully from her chair.

"Don't be such a drama queen, child," she said with a hint of impatience. "There's nothing to be afraid of. Boarding school is quite enjoyable."

"I don't want to." Another tear slipped down Alison's cheek. "Please..."

Her throat tightened painfully. Every word came out strained between quiet sobs.

Mrs. Harold's expression hardened. "Don't." The single word was sharp enough to silence the room. "You know how much I dislike seeing you behave so weakly." She picked up her handbag. "Don't ruin my mood. I have an important meeting this morning."

Alison's shoulders slumped. Whatever strength she'd been clinging to evaporated.

"Make sure you look your best for tonight." Without waiting for a reply, Mrs. Harold turned on her heels and walked out.

The sound of her heels gradually faded down the hallway.

Alison let out a bitter laugh. "So much for my acting,"she muttered.

She wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks, disgust twisting inside her. Imagine crying for nothing. Even if it had all been part of the performance. How had she expected that to work on parents like hers?

Her hands curled into trembling fists and a scream ripped from her throat. Pain. Frustration. Loneliness. Anger. Every emotion she'd been forcing down came crashing to the surface all at once. Her eyes darted wildly around the dining room. They landed on her mother's favorite coffee mug. Without thinking, Alison snatched it from the table and hurled it across the room.

CRASH!

Porcelain exploded against the wall, scattering shattered pieces across the polished floor. For a brief, fleeting moment, watching it break felt satisfying.

Footsteps hurried in from the kitchen. Mrs. Stewart froze in the doorway, gasping at the sight before her. Her worried eyes immediately found Alison.

"I'm sorry," Alison said quietly, though she didn't feel the least bit sorry for destroying something her mother treasured.

Mrs. Stewart approached cautiously.

"Are you hurt, dear?" she asked gently. "Should I get the first-aid kit?"

Alison shook her head. "No... I'm okay."

She forced a small smile for the older woman before quietly making her way upstairs. Once inside her room, she began pacing from one end to the other, chewing nervously on her thumbnail.

There had to be a way out.

Why did it have to be boarding school?

Why?

She paced faster. Then, suddenly, she stopped. An idea formed. A terrible one. But an idea nonetheless.

She would go to Orchid Vale... and get herself expelled within the first week. Maybe two. It wasn't exactly a brilliant plan. In fact, it was probably the worst idea she'd ever had. But it was the only one she could think of. God help her, she could survive two weeks surrounded by strangers.

Months?

Absolutely not.

Of course, there would be consequences. Her parents would be furious. Then again... when weren't they? Sometimes their anger was unavoidable. This time, she didn't care. She wanted to defy them. She wanted them to lose control for once.

Imagine the humiliation.

Their daughter expelled from one of the most prestigious schools in the country. The scandal alone would be enough to tarnish the flawless image they'd spent years building. A slow smirk spread across Alison's face. As she imagined the chaos that would follow, the crushing weight on her chest eased ever so slightly.

For the first time that morning, she felt hopeful.