Page 96 of Saint Céline
* * *
Bellamont Academy’s graduation took place on the east lawn beneath white tents that looked too delicate for the wind coming off the water. Fortunately, it was a rare sunny day. Parents filled rows of chairs in linen suits and summer dresses, their faces shaded by sunglasses and expensive hats. The stage had been arranged in front of the old stone building with the Bellamontcrest hanging behind the podium, and everything smelled like fresh flowers, damp grass, and coastal air.
Katherine sat beside me in her white graduation dress, hair pinned neatly back, looking bored enough to suggest she was above ceremony but nervous enough that her fingers kept worrying the edge of her program.
“You’re going to crease that,” I whispered.
She looked at me sideways, and for a moment her expression softened. “We did it, Céline. We made it.”
I looked out over the lawn and found my mother standing near the back with some of the staff, hands clasped tightly in front of her, smiling at me like she had survived something too. Mrs. Montgomery sat in the front row beside Mr. Montgomery, already dabbing lightly beneath her eyes, though Katherine had not even crossed the stage yet. Behind them, families murmured and cameras flashed, and the entire world seemed arranged around the idea that we had become exactly who we were supposed to be.
“We did,” I said.
Katherine smiled, small and private.
When they called my name, they used Céline Martin. No one hesitated. No one looked confused, except my mom, who seemed to brush it off as a mistake. No one remembered that the name had once been an invention whispered over biology notes and borrowed clothes. The applause rose soft and polite as I crossed the stage. I took the diploma folder from the headmaster, smiled for the photograph, then looked briefly toward the audience. My mother was crying now. Mrs. Montgomery was clapping. Mr. Montgomery nodded once with satisfaction.
I felt as if I had actually earned everything. Not academically. Katherine and I both knew better than that. But socially, maybe. I had survived Bellamont. I had become beloved inside it. I hadmade a story powerful enough that even the people who helped write it now believed in it.
Then Katherine’s name was called.
Katherine Anne Montgomery.
The applause was quieter. Not disrespectful, but just a lot smaller. People respected Katherine. Teachers admired her. Everyone knew she was brilliant. But admiration did not fill the air the way affection did, and as she crossed the stage with stiff shoulders and a face too serious for the moment, I felt a familiar ache beneath my ribs. I clapped harder than anyone.
She looked embarrassed when she returned to her seat. “Stop,” she muttered.
“I’m proud of you.”
“You’re so loud.” She rolled her eyes.
“You’re welcome.”
* * *
After the ceremony, the Montgomerys hosted a private lunch at the estate. White flowers filled the dining room. Champagne waited on the sideboard, though Katherine and I were only eighteen, which meant everyone pretended the mimosas were mostly orange juice.
Mrs. Montgomery kissed my cheek three times and told me I looked radiant. Mr. Montgomery congratulated me on my acceptance to Bellamont University with the same tone he used when approving a well-written invoice. Both Katherine and I had been accepted. Though there was no doubt that Katherine would have. For her, Bellamont University had never felt like a question, only the next room in a house her family already owned. Her parents had attended, her grandparents had donated to it, and at least three buildings on campus had namesconnected distantly enough to the Montgomerys that no one mentioned it outright.
For me, acceptance should have felt impossible. It didn’t. Not by then, and that frightened me a little. Because once you became used to doors opening, it was very hard to remember they had ever been locked.
* * *
The Porsche arrived after dessert. A silver one, low and gleaming and absurdly beautiful, pulled into the circular drive with a red ribbon tied across the hood as if it were a toy instead of a machine worth a thousand times more than everything my mother and I owned when we first came to Blackwater.
Katherine stared at it through the foyer window. “What is that?”
Mr. Montgomery smiled looking pleased with himself.
“Your graduation gift.”
Mrs. Montgomery touched Katherine’s shoulder. “Surprise!”
For a second, Katherine looked genuinely speechless. Then she frowned.
“I’m a terrible driver.”
Mr. Montgomery laughed as though she had made a charming joke.
