by Callie Rose
I squeezed my eyes shut, sure my heart was pounding so hard he’d hear it any minute.
Before I could do anything stupid, before I could give myself away, his phone chimed. He shifted slightly on the couch, and a second later, his voice came again.
“Yeah?”
And just like that, the old Cole was back. His voice was neutral, strong, in control. I could relate to that too—pulling a veil over the hurt, hiding it away—and I hated that I had this in common with the black-haired boy.
“Yeah. It was just my dad. I can meet you. Give me twenty minutes.”
He was already standing as he spoke, and less than a minute later, he flipped the light off and left the large apartment.
I hit the button on my phone to stop recording, but I didn’t move. I stayed under the couch for almost twenty minutes, giving Cole time to get wherever he was going—hopefully somewhere far, far away from Clarendon Hall.
When I finally scraped my way out from under the couch, my entire body felt like it’d been compressed. The bruises on my sides were matched by new aches on my front and back, and now that my chest wasn’t so constricted, my heart picked up the pace like a runaway train.
I pried the door open a quarter of an inch, and when I saw the hall was empty, I ran for it.
Fuck subtlety. When I reached the ground floor, I darted out the front doors and sprinted back to Prentice Hall.
I was gasping for air when I finally got back to my room, and I pulled the little black notebook out of my back pocket, flipping to the section on Cole Mercer.
As I wrote father is abusive, a wet droplet spattered onto the page.
I hadn’t even realized I was crying.
Chapter 9
Went to rehab at age fourteen.
Father is abusive.
I flipped pages of the little black notebook back and forth, reading those two lines over and over again. It’d taken me hours after I got back to my dorm the night before to get my heart rate back under control, and I’d kept glancing out the window, expecting to see the Princes storming across the lawn to demand their secrets back.
But they hadn’t.
As far as I knew, they didn’t have any idea I’d even been up in their rooms.
Bright midday sunlight glanced off the pages of the book as I read. I’d decided to skip lunch. I wasn’t sure I could meet Cole or Elijah’s eyes without giving away what I knew, and until I was sure I could keep my expression neutral, I didn’t want to face them.
Went to rehab at age fourteen.
Father is abusive.
These were exactly the kinds of secrets I had come back to Oak Park to dig up. The kind that could be used to inflict deep, lasting pain—that could damage not just Cole and Elijah, but their whole families.
I’d found the buried skeletons. And not only did I know about them, I had proof.
So why did I feel a little sick as I flipped through the notebook? Why did my stomach turn as I thought about the evidence I’d collected on my phone, now safely stored on the tiny flash drive I kept enfolded between the pages?
Had either of those boys ever felt like this as they’d plotted and carried out their plan to force me out of Oak Park? Like they were killing a little part of their souls in the process? Or had they just grinned and laughed the whole time, mocking me for how stupid and trusting I was?
It didn’t matter, I supposed.
In the end, whether it made them feel sick or not, whether they had any doubts or not, they’d still done it.
And I would too.
I’d do what needed to be done.
Went to rehab at age fourteen.
Father is—
“What the fuck are you doing out here, Idaho slut?”
I jumped at the voice, slamming the notebook closed with a slap and keeping my hands wrapped around it.
Adena narrowed her eyes as she looked down at me. “Scared to eat in the dining hall? Mason had it right the first time. Trash like you really doesn’t belong in there. You’ll probably give everyone food poisoning.”
I tugged the elastic band over the front of the book, securing it closed. It bulged just a little in the middle, where the flash drive was stored. I cocked my head at Adena as I slipped the book back into the side pocket of my bag.
“Here I was going to say Mason was right the first time when he decided to break up with a bitch like you.”
Her expression hardened. “Whatever.”
“And if you guys really are back together, you might want to think about switching deodorant. Because from what I can tell, he doesn’t want to be around you at all.”
Fury flashed in her blue eyes, and I almost let myself smile. The side of my body still ached from where I’d landed when she pushed me down the stairs, and the bitch hadn’t even been sent to the dean for it. Maybe she would if I reported her, but from the sound of it, school admins only knew about the aftermath—about her confrontation with the Princes afterward.
But I knew from experience reporting her wouldn’t do shit.
She leaned toward me, getting in my face, her nostrils flaring like an animal about to attack. “Listen, trash slut. I don’t know why the fuck the Princes are so obsessed with you. I don’t know how you turned them against me. But I know the truth, whether they’ll say it or not anymore. You’re a piece of garbage, and you don’t belong here. You never will. Because all the money in the world can’t buy class.”
I flicked my gaze up and down, taking in her entire form. “Obviously not.”
“You think you’re so fucking cool? So badass?” Her voice was a low hiss, her lips curling back from her teeth. “You’re not. I saw you that day. Crawling and moaning on the ground like a fucking loser. Maybe Mason felt sorry for you or some shit, but you didn’t fool me. I’ll throw you out on the curb where you belong, and when you’re gone, he’ll fucking thank me. He’ll finally get it.”
My hands clenched at her casual reference to the flashback-fueled panic attack I’d had—something she had caused.
“Fuck off, Adena.”
I shoved to my feet and pushed past her, knocking into her shoulder hard as I passed. There was still twenty minutes left in the lunch period, and I’d rather spend it getting my fingernails pried off than staring at Adena’s ugly face.
Adena and a few members of her posse didn’t blindly follow the Princes’ directive to leave me alone. They still found little ways to poke at me, although I knew they were scared to push it too far. I wasn’t sure exactly what had gone down between the Princes and Adena after she pushed me down the steps, but whatever it was, it had been enough for them to get sent to the dean’s office—which was also apparently enough for her to think twice about openly attacking me again.
Not that it stopped her from finding subtler ways to get at me.
I ignored her. Until I could find a way to get even with her, she wasn’t worth my focus or time.
The maintenance man’s key card was kept safe in a drawer in my desk, but after getting trapped under the couch in Cole’s room, I was still working up the nerve to break into the remaining two Prince’s dorms. So for the next week, things actually felt relatively normal. I was able to focus on classes a bit more, which was probably good—my grades improved as soon as I started to apply myself.
Oliver and I went out on another date, but I was thinking seriously about ending whatever this thing was that we were doing. He was pushing to take things farther physically, but the more I tried to make myself feel something, to feel some spark of attraction, the less I felt.
Would that ever go away?
If I broke the Princes, if I tore them down and got the vengeance I’d been craving for months, would their hold on my soul vanish? Be erased somehow?
God, I fucking hoped so.
Then maybe when a normal, nice guy asked me out, I could actually enjoy it.
Part of the reason I hadn’t broken up with him already was because I still didn’t have a lot of friends on campus. Maggie a
nd Dan hung out in the Wastelands a lot, and if Leah wasn’t around, I’d join them sometimes. Dan was sweet and attentive with Maggie, which only made me feel shittier about being attracted to liars and assholes. There’d been a time when he first arrived at Oak Park last year when I’d thought Dan might’ve had a little crush on me. But I’d been so caught up in things with the Princes—first avoiding them and then spending time with them—that I hadn’t really ever looked at him that way.
Maybe it was for the best.
He was sweet, and Maggie was sweet. I wasn’t sure a guy like him could handle all of my baggage.
Oliver didn’t take me to another football game, but I went to one more on my own. I wasn’t quite sure why I did, and I left before the end of the game. I was sure Finn saw me in the stands, even though I sat toward the back.
The Princes continued to ignore me, at least outwardly. I could feel them watching me—I was as physically aware of their stares as I’d ever been—but none of them spoke to me.
Elijah had pulled me into a stairwell again a few days after Adena pushed me, but that time, he hadn’t even said anything. He’d just stared at me, so intently and for so long that the air between us had seemed to thicken with all the things he wasn’t saying. By the time he’d finally opened his mouth, I had recovered from my shock and escaped back into the hall.
But on a Monday afternoon in mid-October, the illusion of normalcy shattered.
I was heading back toward the Wastelands after class, rounding the corner of Hammond Hall, when my phone rang in the side pocket of my bag. I didn’t recognize the number, but hardly anyone ever called me, so I swiped to accept, thinking it must have to do with my trust or something.
“Hello?”
There was a moment of silence, and then, “Talia?”
My feet froze in place, my body jerking to a halt so fast I almost stumbled. I had known the owner of that voice for less than a year, but I recognized the deep baritone instantly.
“What do you want, Philip?” My voice was low and choked, cut off by my closing throat.
“I…” He trailed off, and there was another long beat of silence before he spoke again. “I wanted to see if you’d meet with me.”
I stood rooted to the spot, trying to come up with the right words to say, the right emotions to feel. When I’d stepped off the plane at LAX and walked by the spot where Jacqueline had picked me up the first time, I had wondered if she or my grandfather knew I was back in California. Wondered if they knew about the money my mom had saved, and the fact that she’d left it to me.
But ever since then, I’d made a point to not think about either of my two remaining relatives, to pretend they didn’t fucking exist. I rarely left campus, so the chances of running into them anywhere were almost nil. Jacqueline had made it clear she never wanted to see me again, and the feeling was entirely fucking mutual.
So why the hell was Philip calling me?
And why did he sound so… wrecked?
“No.” I swallowed hard, staring out across the green lawn. “I don’t think I can.”
There was another long pause, and when he spoke again, I swore there was a slur in his speech. “I understand. I didn’t think you would.” His voice was thick, his words slow. “I just had to try.”
A lump formed in my throat at the defeat in his tone, at the heartbreak. But I kept my voice steady as I said, “Bye.”
“Wait!” The panicked word filtered through the line, and I paused, my finger hovering over the end call button. I put the phone back to my ear as he spoke again. “Are you… are you all right? Do you need anything?”
My eyes narrowed. “What, like money?”
“Anything.”
“What about what Jacqueline said?”
“She doesn’t have to know,” Philip intoned, his voice gaining strength. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” I stepped off the path into the shade of a tree near Hammond, leaning against the side of the large white building. “I… my mom left me money in a trust. A lawyer helped me get access to it early. So I don’t need anything.”
There was such a long pause that I had a momentary worry he’d passed out or something, but then he spoke again. “I’m sorry, Talia. For what your grandmother—for what I did. I should never have allowed you to get on that plane. Jacqueline is still adamant about cutting you off, but… I can’t lose another daughter.”
“I’m not your daughter,” I said stiffly.
“No. But you’re the closest thing I’ll ever have to one now. I didn’t stop your mother from leaving, and I lost her forever. I made the same mistake with you. Old fool.”
The last words were muttered under his breath, not even meant for me, but they were the ones that lodged in my heart.
He was an old fool. He could’ve stood up for me when Jacqueline had gone after me, when she’d vowed to cut me out of her life. Even now, I was certain he was going behind her back to call me.
But he had called.
And I wasn’t his daughter, but he was the only family I had left.
“Fine.” I bit my lip, already beginning to regret my decision. “I’ll meet you. But we meet where I say, and we talk about what I want.”
“Of course. Of course!” he promised in a rush, relief clear in his tone.
I told him to meet me in an hour at a little cafe in Roseland that I’d been to with Leah once, then ended the call before I could change my mind. After dropping my backpack off at my dorm, I called an Uber and went to the drive on south side of Craydon to meet it.
Traffic was light, and I was twenty minutes early—but Philip was already there. He stood so fast when he saw me that he almost knocked over the little round table he was sitting at, and when I approached, his body stuttered forward and back, like he wasn’t quite sure how to greet me.
I wasn’t sure either, to be honest, so all I did was wave. Then we sank into chairs opposite each other.
Philip didn’t look good. He looked older than I remembered, his face worn and haggard. His eyes were a little bloodshot, and he looked like maybe he’d lost weight. But he smiled when he looked at me, a disbelieving expression on his face.
“Thank you for meeting me. I—I didn’t think you’d come.”
“I almost didn’t,” I said honestly, and he dropped his head, shame twisting his features.
“I’m sorry, Talia,” he murmured.
“Yeah, you said.”
It was the most civil response I could give. It hurt to hear those words, because I’d been learning slowly not to believe them—not to trust changes of heart or overtures of peace. But a part of me still wanted to.
He insisted on buying me a latte, and a snide, bitter part of me wondered if he’d hide the receipt from Jacqueline. When he settled back into his chair, I met his gaze.
“Tell me about my mother.”
His brows drew together, and pain flashed in his eyes. But I’d told him we would talk about what I wanted to talk about, and he seemed to remember that. He drew in a deep breath, meeting my gaze.
“She was smart. Driven. Like you. She was always a little rebellious, and she and your grandmother butted heads all through her teen years. But after she graduated high school and went through college, things got better. Then…” He stared down into his cup. “They got worse.”
My stomach twisted, but I didn’t let the heaviness of his voice stop me. I’d been told vague snippets and little half-truths by him and Jacqueline the whole time I lived with them. I wanted the whole fucking story for once.
“How?” I pressed.
“She… she changed. Everything was wonderful. She had you. She and her friends were thick as thieves, all having kids around the same time. They started their own company. Then, out of nowhere, she became like a different person. She turned on her friends, on your grandmother and me. She seemed to hate all of us, and I could never quite figure out why.”
“And then she left?”
He nodded. “Eventually. She st
ayed for about a year, and things got worse and worse. The company fell apart. Her relationships crumbled. She said things to your mother, to me, that were—” His dull blue eyes were glassy as he blinked quickly. “But still. We should’ve tried to stop her. Should’ve tried to find her. She needed help, mental and emotional help, and we were too angry to see it.”
Philip trailed off, gazing at the table but not really seeming to see it.
“Grandpa.” The word felt strange on my tongue. “Are you okay?”
He jerked out of his thoughts, lifting his head to look at me again. “Oh. Of course. I’m fine. Fine.”
We talked for another hour, and he let me guide the conversation entirely. There was no question I asked that he refused to answer, and as we stood up to leave, he thanked me for coming. His face was still drawn and wan, but a little spark of light had returned to his eyes as we spoke, and when he asked if I would meet him again sometime, I told him I’d think about it.
He offered to drive me back to campus, but I refused.
The whole ride back though, I stared out the window, my mind whirling with thoughts of my mother, of my grandparents, of the Princes and their families.
I found myself thinking about forgiveness and resentment, and who holding onto anger really hurts the most.
Chapter 10
My leg lifted gracefully in the air, and I held onto the barre lightly, keeping my spine long and my neck relaxed. I’d been practicing every day since the first week of school, and the work I’d been putting in showed.
But I needed more. I needed a company, a teacher, and an ensemble to challenge me.
An idea had been growing in my mind since the moment the judge had released part of my trust to me. Jacqueline had forbidden me from pursuing dance professionally, but she didn’t get to have a say in that anymore.
I could do whatever I wanted.
A company in L.A., the Pacific Contemporary Ballet, would be holding auditions for chorus members for their resident company in December, and I had set myself a goal—be ready to audition by that time. It wasn’t an audition for a prima spot, but that was okay. I wasn’t there yet. But getting into a good company with great dancers would be the push that might get me there someday. And if I got in, I could finish the year at Oak Park and then start right after school ended.