Storms 01 - Family Storms

for a straitjacket. She had nothing higher than a C and had two C-minuses. Mr. March looked disappointed, but it was Mrs. March who went after her at dinner that night.
    “You told me you and your friends formed this homework club for after-school sessions because the first half of your senior year was so important, didn’t you?”
    “These teachers hate me,” Kiera moaned. “They resent us because we’re so rich.”
    Her father looked up. “Why, did someone say something to you that would indicate that?”
    “They don’t come right out and say it, Daddy. They’re too smart for that, but I can see it in their faces.”
    “That’s ridiculous,” Mrs. March said. “Every girl and boy in that school comes from a wealthy family. How else could they attend with the tuition being as high as it is? No one would single you out for that, Kiera. It’s a pathetic excuse for your failure to care about your work.”
    “Your mother’s right, Kiera,” her father said. “If a girl like Sasha can do so well, considering her background, you can, too. I want to see more of an effort from you.”
    Her face deflated. Her eyes filled with tears. She looked at me and bit down on her upper lip. “It’s the therapy!” she cried. “It’s driving me nuts. I can’t think.”
    “You could go to prison if you don’t follow through on that,” her mother said.
    Kiera looked to her father, but he didn’t disagree.
    “Well, you’ll just have to put up with me until I’m finished with it, then,” she said in the exact manner and tone of a spoiled girl. She went back to her pouting and pecked at her food.
    I didn’t gloat, but inside I felt good about myself for the first time in a long time. It inspired me to work even harder. I was beginning to enjoy the clarinet, as well, and some nights I practiced for close to two hours. I overheard Kiera complain to her father about the noise, but he told her just to put on her earphones like she did most of the time. That brought a smile to my lips.
    Kiera wasn’t yet at the point where she would talk to me during the school day, but I did often notice her watching me when I was with other students in the cafeteria. A few times, I ate outside with some of my classmates, and I thought she was going to come over to say something, but she didn’t. I thought she was looking at me differently, too. I didn’t see the disdain or disrespect as much. It was more as if she was curious about me, which only made me feel even better about myself.
    Usually, if she did say anything to me after school, it was sarcastic or biting, but one day, she followed me out and said, “You’re hanging around with nerds and losers. If you stop, the other girls might invite you to something.” She didn’t wait for me to reply. She kept walking to catch up with her friends.
    Did I hear right?
I wondered. From her tone, it sounded as if she was trying to give me good advice, looking out for my interests. What was she up to now? Had Mr. and Mrs.March come down on her for not being friendlier to me? Had she been promised something if she was? I couldn’t imagine ever trusting her or believing her, and yet there was a part of me that wanted to do just that.
    All I should want to do is hate her,
I thought. It was easier to hate her when she was so aggressive and arrogant and mean. I hated her for being rich and pretty and popular with her friends, too. However, somehow, no matter how I tried to fight it back, I was beginning to pity her. In her mind, she was losing her father and had already lost her mother. Maybe she was becoming more of an orphan like me.
    With all that I was being given materially as well as emotionally now, it was sometimes hard to remember that I was an orphan. One afternoon, whether she had intended it or not, Mrs. March reminded me. As usual, Grover was there to take me home at the end of the school day, but when he opened the rear door for me, I saw Mrs. March sitting there smiling. I was so surprised that I didn’t move.
    “Get in, silly,” she said.
    I did, and Grover closed the door. Mrs. March had said nothing the night before or at breakfast to indicate that she would be with Grover. I first thought she was on her way back to the mansion and had timed it so she could detour with the limousine to the school, but that wasn’t it.
    “I’m taking you to see something,” she said.
    “Where?”
    “You’ll see very soon. How was your day?”
    I showed her a math test I had