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Authors: Margaux Froley
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the whole time. It wasn’t until then that we put it together that Hana was Keaton’s wife. Both of them wore simple gold wedding bands. Keaton kept a tender hand on her back while she poured .
Once we were all served, Keaton asked if he could speak with me privately. I assumed he was going to discuss more logistics with moving Athena and me up to the hill, but no. He told me that he and Hana have been married for three years. She was born and raised in Oakland, but he feels like the anti-Japanese sentiment will only get worse in the city. He doesn’t need to convince me. I know how bad it is, but listening to him was tough. Last week the grocery store owner down the street from them wouldn’t even sell groceries to Hana until Keaton came and intervened .
The Army has done a background check on Hana, and she was cleared to be here with Keaton, but he is not allowed to discuss his work with her. That’s why he wants to make sure Athena would come to the hill with me. Hana needs another woman around to talk to, a friend. They plan on making a permanent home on the hillside. But he needs to know we’re okay with Hana. What could I say? Of course we are .
By the end of the conversation, Keaton had agreed to build a house for Athena and me, hired me at $25 a week, and confirmed that we would start by the end of the month. And I still don’t know what we’ll be doing .
Devon drifted off to sleep. She dreamt about Hutch. She saw his wild hair and clever smile as they walked around the empty hillside. He reached out for her hand, but the wind pulled her away from him. She tried calling, but the wind seemed to absorb her voice, and then she was falling and falling down the cliff side until she landed on the hard cement of the Palace. Eric was standing over her with the spyglass in his hands. He used it to take a swing at her—
Devon jerked up in bed.
The bright morning had turned into a gray afternoon.
She took a few deep breaths, shaking off the nightmare, then eyed the diary beside her. It was difficult to imagine a time when this hillside wasn’t dotted with dorms, dining halls, gyms, a pool. It must have been amazing to be up here before the school was built. So Reed had a wife, Athena. She’d never even considered who Hutch’s grandmother was. She’d never really considered The Keaton School as a product of the actual Dr. Keaton, the person—someone who’d led an entirely different life before the school existed. And if Dr. Keaton had a wife, why was there no mention of her anywhere on campus?
CHAPTER 7
Sunday dinners were a generally depressing affair. Devon knew that the stories and the buzz from weekends off campus would fall silent upon arrival in the dining hall. She sighed as she gathered her dinner on a plastic tray. At least tonight was cheeseburger night. Fries, salad, and even a berry cobbler concoction would suffice to dull the buildup of yet another week at Keaton. She approached Dr. Mettier at the check-in table. Another day, another “Devon Mackintosh, check.”
When someone slapped Devon’s butt, she nearly dropped her tray on Dr. Mettier’s lap.
Cleo was standing behind Devon in her uniform of motorcycle boots, black leggings, and a black leather jacket with zippers going in every direction. She pulled the black knitted hat off her head and shook out her chin-length hair. “How did you survive withoutme this weekend, Mackintosh?” Cleo waved at Dr. Mettier as he checked her off his list with a satisfied grunt.
Devon’s smile faltered. A wave of guilt washed over her. But … why
did
she feel guilty about Bodhi? He and Cleo were over. He’d made the move. They’d shared a kiss; that was it. “Wanna eat with me?” she finally managed.
Cleo sneered at the lopsided cheeseburger and wilted lettuce they were supposed to call dinner on Devon’s tray. “You okay? The food is supposed to make you sick
after
you eat it, remember?”
“Funny,” Devon said, regaining some composure.
Once we were all served, Keaton asked if he could speak with me privately. I assumed he was going to discuss more logistics with moving Athena and me up to the hill, but no. He told me that he and Hana have been married for three years. She was born and raised in Oakland, but he feels like the anti-Japanese sentiment will only get worse in the city. He doesn’t need to convince me. I know how bad it is, but listening to him was tough. Last week the grocery store owner down the street from them wouldn’t even sell groceries to Hana until Keaton came and intervened .
The Army has done a background check on Hana, and she was cleared to be here with Keaton, but he is not allowed to discuss his work with her. That’s why he wants to make sure Athena would come to the hill with me. Hana needs another woman around to talk to, a friend. They plan on making a permanent home on the hillside. But he needs to know we’re okay with Hana. What could I say? Of course we are .
By the end of the conversation, Keaton had agreed to build a house for Athena and me, hired me at $25 a week, and confirmed that we would start by the end of the month. And I still don’t know what we’ll be doing .
Devon drifted off to sleep. She dreamt about Hutch. She saw his wild hair and clever smile as they walked around the empty hillside. He reached out for her hand, but the wind pulled her away from him. She tried calling, but the wind seemed to absorb her voice, and then she was falling and falling down the cliff side until she landed on the hard cement of the Palace. Eric was standing over her with the spyglass in his hands. He used it to take a swing at her—
Devon jerked up in bed.
The bright morning had turned into a gray afternoon.
She took a few deep breaths, shaking off the nightmare, then eyed the diary beside her. It was difficult to imagine a time when this hillside wasn’t dotted with dorms, dining halls, gyms, a pool. It must have been amazing to be up here before the school was built. So Reed had a wife, Athena. She’d never even considered who Hutch’s grandmother was. She’d never really considered The Keaton School as a product of the actual Dr. Keaton, the person—someone who’d led an entirely different life before the school existed. And if Dr. Keaton had a wife, why was there no mention of her anywhere on campus?
CHAPTER 7
Sunday dinners were a generally depressing affair. Devon knew that the stories and the buzz from weekends off campus would fall silent upon arrival in the dining hall. She sighed as she gathered her dinner on a plastic tray. At least tonight was cheeseburger night. Fries, salad, and even a berry cobbler concoction would suffice to dull the buildup of yet another week at Keaton. She approached Dr. Mettier at the check-in table. Another day, another “Devon Mackintosh, check.”
When someone slapped Devon’s butt, she nearly dropped her tray on Dr. Mettier’s lap.
Cleo was standing behind Devon in her uniform of motorcycle boots, black leggings, and a black leather jacket with zippers going in every direction. She pulled the black knitted hat off her head and shook out her chin-length hair. “How did you survive withoutme this weekend, Mackintosh?” Cleo waved at Dr. Mettier as he checked her off his list with a satisfied grunt.
Devon’s smile faltered. A wave of guilt washed over her. But … why
did
she feel guilty about Bodhi? He and Cleo were over. He’d made the move. They’d shared a kiss; that was it. “Wanna eat with me?” she finally managed.
Cleo sneered at the lopsided cheeseburger and wilted lettuce they were supposed to call dinner on Devon’s tray. “You okay? The food is supposed to make you sick
after
you eat it, remember?”
“Funny,” Devon said, regaining some composure.
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