Not long after that moment, Alicia pulled Maren aside and whispered in her ear: “Ted Clark can’t take his eyes off you. I’ll give you $1,000 if you can get any useful EBA admissions information out of him.”
With $1,000 hanging over her head, money that Maren desperately needed to cover medical bills from Winnie’s recent bout of pneumonia, she accepted Ted’s offer to grab a drink after the party. She was terrible at flirting, and though it pained her to pull one over on him, she managed to get one tidbit from Ted: EBA’s score floor on the SSAT exam. Apparently, Brooke would need to score above the 92nd percentile to be considered for admission. Ted had seemed like a genuinely decent guy—with a boyish charm and kind eyes—but their evening had started and ended with one drink, and Maren felt dirty afterward for using her tight blouse and doe eyes to get what she needed. But Alicia had been pleased with the information and paid Maren the cool grand in cash the next morning. Brooke ended up scoring well above the threshold and received her EBA admission letter the following February.
With Brooke officially ensconced in her posh private school, Maren had assumed the admissions craziness was at an end. And with Winnie and Brooke finally out of direct competition, opportunities at Winnie’s public middle school were fair game. Which was how, when Winnie was in eighth grade, the truth came out.
One afternoon, Winnie pulled a packet of information from her backpack describing a program sponsored by the University of Washington called Husky Launch, which allowed accelerated high school students to take two classes per semester at the university for college credit while still graduating from their local high schools. Tuition was gratis, and students received a free city bus pass and lunch coupons. All Winnie had to do was submit an application with teacher references and score above the 97th percentile on the standardized entrance exam. Though Maren had misgivings about her daughter venturing out alone on a college campus, she figured there was no harm in letting Winnie sit for the test, so they signed her up for the next available exam.
When Winnie emerged from the three-and-a-half-hour exam, Maren was waiting to take her out for her favorite treat: a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese frosting from the Cupcake Genie. As they dug in to their first sinful bites, Maren asked how the test went. To say Winnie’s reply took Maren by surprise was perhaps the understatement of the century.
“Easy. It was just like the test Alicia took me and Brooke to a few years ago.”
Maren’s antennae shot up. “Oh really? Hmm…I don’t remember that. When was it again?”
Winnie’s face turned red. “Oops. Now that I’m remembering it, I think Alicia made me promise to keep it a secret.”
“Well, it was such a long time ago, it can’t hurt now, right?”
“I guess. The dress she got me after the test as a thank-you doesn’t even fit anymore.”
“You mean that beautiful dress she gave you for Christmas in fifth grade?”
“Yeah, the green plaid one with the black sash? God, I loved that dress.”
“It really was gorgeous on you.” Maren smiled. “So tell me more about that test?”
“I don’t remember much except it was a Saturday and we were in the car for a long time. I thought she was taking us to play laser tag, but then she pulled into some dreary school in a scary-looking neighborhood—the drinking fountains had yellow tape around them and big signs that said, ‘Do Not Drink.’ We were the only two white kids there. Alicia said Brooke had to take a test, and she asked me to take it with her to keep Brooke company. She said it would be good practice for me for college someday. Anyway, she filled out the forms for us with the lady at the front of the room, and I remember the test was long and boring but super easy.”
“Did you ever find out how you did on the test?”
“Yeah, it was weird. I remember asking Alicia a few weeks later how I did, and she said I did fine, almost as well as Brooke, but that was to be expected since Brooke had studied hard for the test and I was doing it just for fun. I think that might have been the only time Brooke ever outscored me on anything!”
Maren understood immediately what had happened. Indeed, part of her was surprised that her normally astute daughter hadn’t put it together. But on another level, Maren saw why. For years, Winnie had worshipped Alicia, and Alicia had actively cultivated Winnie’s belief that she was all but an official member of the Stone family, just like Maren was supposedly Alicia’s “treasured friend.” Alicia didn’t just steal her daughter’s score that day; she took full advantage of Winnie’s yearning to belong to their family and used it all to propel Brooke. It was only because of Winnie that Brooke had been admitted to EBA, and meanwhile, Winnie was left to suffer at a less-than-stellar public school.
Even today, Maren’s anger over Alicia’s treatment of eleven-year-old Winnie was raw. Until now, Maren could at least console herself with the knowledge that the incident had ultimately paved the way for Winnie to receive the rigorous education she’d been so long denied and, even more exciting, the promise of a fully funded college education on the horizon. Maren had kept from Winnie the backstory behind her move to EBA in hopes of protecting her from the hard truth of Alicia’s empty affection. But now everything was about to come crashing down. As Maren sat at the kitchen table preparing to dash Winnie’s college dreams and break her heart in the process, she finally understood: where Alicia was concerned, it was pay now and pay later.
The tuition deal Alicia was audaciously withdrawing in her email was struck after Maren confirmed the truth about Brooke’s EBA entrance test and finally worked up the nerve to confront Alicia—job security be damned. To Maren’s surprise, though, Alicia was unfazed. No apologies. No remorse. Alicia had turned a cold stare on Maren and said, “I thought Winnie would be smart enough to remember not to talk about that day. We had a deal.”
“Yes, I know. You promised an eleven-year-old a designer dress in exchange for her silence to keep me from ever learning how you used my daughter. I’m pretty sure what you did is illegal, Alicia. And it’s definitely wrong. The only reason I’m not quitting and reporting you to EBA is because I know how devastated Brooke would be if she ever found out. But this can’t happen again.”
Alicia looked momentarily stunned. Maren had never spoken to her so angrily or directly. But Alicia quickly drew on her keen negotiating skills. “Anyway, I’ve been meaning to tell you that with my vested stock options so valuable now, I’ve decided I’d like to sponsor Winnie at EBA.”
Maren cast a skeptical glance at Alicia but stayed quiet.
“You know what? I’ll even throw in tuition for the college of her choice. All you need to do is sign a nondisclosure agreement my lawyers will draft in which you promise never to reveal this minor episode to anyone. Do we have a deal?”
Maren took the deal.
And look where that deal landed us, Maren thought as a venomous, helpless fury coursed through her veins. She poured the dregs of the wine bottle into her glass, hiccupped, and took another long gulp as she waited for Winnie to get home from the EBA football game. Once again, Maren would force her daughter to take a back seat to Brooke. And this time, she wouldn’t be able to shield Winnie from her idol’s betrayal: a double whammy.
What a stupendous mom she’d turned out to be. More like stupid. Despite working herself to the bone all these years, Maren had been for her extraordinary daughter little more than a pathetic, subservient mom with a shameful past. Winnie had no father and no extended family, and now here they were: backed into a corner with a powerful and unscrupulous woman holding Winnie’s college dreams hostage. Fine work, indeed. Maren took another swig of wine and put her head down on the treasured table that was once someone else’s trash.
* * *
The hollow front door rattled shut, and Maren lifted her head up as Winnie walked into the kitchen. “How was the game?” A loud hiccup punctuated the question. “Oops!”
“Oh my God, Mom. Are you drunk?”
“I don’t know about drunk, but I maybe had a little too much wine.”
Winnie chuckled. “You never drink. What’s up?”
She knew it would devastate Winnie to see for herself that her hero had abandoned her like a dead raccoon on the side of the road. But she needed Winnie to understand. “This is what’s up,” Maren said as she waved her phone at Winnie.
Her daughter was a speedy reader, so Maren guessed she must have read the email at least three times before finally shoving the phone back.
Winnie turned her head in a patent attempt to hide the tears that were welling up in her eyes. “How can she do this? She promised! This is so messed up!”
“Yeah, I have to agree with ya there, hon.” Maren dropped her head back down to the table. “Obviously someone really wants to make sure you don’t apply to Stanford.”
“You know what? Screw her. It sucks, but it doesn’t change anything for me. Stanford is a no-loan school.” Winnie stamped her foot. “If anything, this makes me want it more. Why can’t you just find another job?”
“You don’t understand, Win.” Maren sniffled and rubbed her nose. “She’s got my tits in a vice grip. If I quit or get fired, I’ll never find another job. She’ll withhold references or worse. She hasn’t achieved that huge success you desire without destroying a few people along the way. Believe me, I’ve seen the bodies. And I’m legally bound to keep my mouth shut about everything I’ve learned while working for her, including how she stole your identity to get Brooke into EBA in the first place.”
“What are you talking about?” Winnie finally sat down in the dining chair next to Maren.
Maren leaned over and squeezed Winnie’s shoulders. She knew she could be in for a world of hurt for breaking her NDA, but what the hell. Alicia had thrown the first punch. Maybe there was a self-defense exception to NDAs? Honestly, she was almost past caring. She was just that tired. Overriding the niggling feeling that she might regret this in the morning, Maren told the truth.
“I really shouldn’t be doing this, but I need you to understand who we’re dealing with here. You can’t ever breathe a word about this to a single soul.” Maren stared into Winnie’s watery eyes and swallowed down a feeling of nausea. “Do you remember that time when Alicia took you with Brooke to take a ‘practice’ standardized test in fifth grade and then she bought you that Christmas dress and told you to never tell me about it?”
“Yeah?” Winnie said.
“Well, after you told me about it in eighth grade, I did some digging. I figured out that she drove you girls all the way to an elementary school in Tacoma to take that test so she could be sure she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew. Do you want to guess why?”
Winnie shook her head slowly. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying she swapped your test scores with Brooke’s so Brooke could get into EBA.”
“Are you serious?” Winnie’s eyes widened.
“I wish it wasn’t true, but that’s why she paid for EBA and why she promised to pay for college. Because I confronted her and threatened to report her. It was the only time in ten years I had the upper hand on her. But now she’s got me—or I suppose us—right back where she wants us, and there’s no way out.” Maren massaged her temples. Her head pounded like she had skipped the drunk part and moved straight into the hangover. “So how ’bout we find you another dang college before she does something really insane like kidnaps you and hires a surgeon to transplant your brain into Brooke. I’m telling you, this woman will stop at nothing to get what she wants.”
“That’s just…no, that’s just crazy. I can’t believe she did that to me.” Winnie slumped in her chair, tears streaming down her face. “How can she get away with this?”
“I’ve been over and over and over it. If we do anything to challenge her, she could also evict us. Remember, they own our house, and we’re lucky they haven’t raised our rent. If we lost my job and this house, we’d practically have to move to Canada to afford something decent. Or worse, we could end up homeless again. I can’t go back to that, Win. I can’t do that to you ever again.”
“You have to stop blaming yourself. I don’t even remember it.”
“Well, I can’t forget it.” Living out of their car, trying to make a home for Winnie who was only three without a bathroom or a kitchen, making it a game to pee in used coffee cups, sneaking into café bathrooms to wash up. Moving the car every three days so she wouldn’t get hauled into the police station for loitering. Except for the hours upon hours spent in libraries reading and staying warm, every minute of that hell was seared in her brain. “It’s just not worth it. No single college is worth it. Can’t you just accept UW as a good enough option? Don’t they have a great honors program? Once you get your degree, then we can make our move. Please?” This was a new low for Maren, tearfully begging her daughter to be a doormat. But she couldn’t see another way out of this. The devil she knew was the only option.
“OK, Mom. Jeez! Just stop! Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll be the joke of EBA, staying in Seattle for college after busting my butt to graduate first in my class, but whatever. College is college.”
“Exactly. It will set you free, I promise,” Maren said and knocked over her empty glass.
“Easy there,” Winnie said, righting the wineglass. “I think maybe we need to get you to bed.” She helped Maren up from her chair and steadied her on the short walk down the hall to the bedroom.
As Maren fell onto the bed, she allowed herself a small sigh of relief. Maybe she needed to drink more often if that was what it took to get Winnie to see things her way. For years, Maren had vowed she’d get out from under this warped relationship with Alicia. But it wasn’t time yet; she had to get Winnie through college first. And, she reminded herself, she’d endured far worse than being pushed around by a bitter, overprivileged, emotionally stunted middle-aged woman. Anyway, if Stanford was filled with people like Alicia and Brooke, people who would do anything to get ahead, wouldn’t Winnie be happier somewhere else in the end?
Memorial Hospital Emergency Room
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 30, 12:30 A.M.
Your daughter was in a serious accident.
Maren still couldn’t believe the police officer’s words, even as she sat here in the ER waiting room, eyes glued to the “Unauthorized Entry” doors. As she continued her desperate wait for word of Winnie’s condition, she found herself replaying the exchange with the officer at her front door, wondering if she’d missed something in her state of shock. Did he know more about Winnie’s condition than he had let on? Had she hit a pothole or swerved to avoid an animal? In Maren’s hand was the iPhone the officer (What was his name? Johnson? Truman? Definitely a former president—that much she remembered) had given her at the door.
She’d once checked out a library book describing how people, children especially, used magical thinking to deal with trauma, and she’d instantly recognized it as one of her own go-to coping strategies. If she didn’t set the phone down, Winnie would be fine. If she held her breath for twenty seconds of every minute, Winnie would pull through. She tried to make out the time on Winnie’s cracked screen to no avail, instead using a wall clock on the other side of the waiting area. How was it possible that just an hour ago, the police officer had appeared at her house and turned her world upside down, and yet it felt like she’d been waiting an eternity to find out if Winnie was OK? She held her breath again and counted to twenty.
From the moment she’d opened her front door and seen the officer instead of Winnie, Maren had been thrown headfirst into a sinkhole of despair the likes of which she’d only experienced one other time in her life. It was bone-chilling to be back in that place after almost two decades spent resisting its pull. Even now, when she spoke to the clerk, she could feel the vibration of words in her larynx, but the sounds that emerged were distorted, like th
ey’d traveled the length of a tuba before emerging from her mouth. To prove to herself she was still connected to reality, she periodically ran a finger over the shattered glass of Winnie’s phone until a broken shard sliced the pad of her fingertip. Three fingers and a thumb currently stung with invisible slivers, but at least the pain grounded her in the present.
The sound of footsteps seeped into her consciousness. As she lifted her head, she noted a broad-shouldered man coming her way and rose to meet him.
“Hello, Mrs. Pressley? My name is Detective Davis.” His booming voice reverberated through the somber waiting area. “I’m the detective in charge of your daughter’s case.”
“Hi, I’m Maren.” She winced as her sore fingertips made contact with his outstretched hand. “Please, what can you tell me? They haven’t told me anything. How bad are her injuries?” Maren shivered. Now that she might finally be getting information about Winnie, she wished she could hide in the not-knowing for a little while longer.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry. I don’t have any information on your daughter’s health status. That’s not my department. I can tell you what we know about the accident, but unfortunately, I have more questions than answers at this point.” He ran a hand over his close-cropped hair.
“OK…”
“Your daughter…um, Rowan, is it?” Detective Davis checked his spiral notepad.
“Yes, she goes by Winnie,” Maren clarified.
“Got it,” he said, making a note. “So it looks like Winnie was riding an electric scooter near Lake Washington Country Club. A witness called 911. EMS arrived within a few minutes. The witness stayed with Winnie until the first responders arrived and told them what she saw, which unfortunately wasn’t much. The road was poorly lit, and the witness couldn’t provide any details other than she was driving a short distance behind a dark-colored SUV that appeared to be closely following your daughter. She observed a person fly off the road in front of that car. According to the witness, the driver of the SUV didn’t stop. When the medics arrived, your daughter was on the parking strip, disoriented and bleeding from a head wound.”
Girls with Bright Futures Page 7