by Shel Stone
Maybe she wasn’t going to turn up, Adrian thought, checking the time on his phone, before putting it away again. The sun was setting outside and the school was just about empty except for a few long-run after school activities, of which Adrian had never participated.
Maybe the fucking lacrosse team was training. They liked to hang around, didn’t they? Jerk each other off while telling themselves how amazing they were. The pride of the fucking school. Well, his stock had never been high with the school. It wasn’t as if he’d ever made the school proud, but this meeting was probably something Mr. Walters dreaded. An apology between Terence Morecroft’s son and Jeffrey Chambers’ daughter. Luckily for Mr. Walters, none of this had happened on school ground. Still, either Mr. Walters or Jeffrey Chambers had insisted on an apology—because releasing video of students fucking went against school code.
Could be that Cecily didn’t turn up at all. Maybe they were being stood up. Although that would be a bit of a cop out, wouldn’t it? Too squeamish to show.
The sound of the door opening proved him wrong. Every step of the way, he’d been surprised by Cecily. He’d expected her to be on the first flight out, and she’d turned up. He’d expected her to refuse to face him, but she had. And now she was here for the apology, even as he was pretty sure she’d rather pull her own teeth out.
Not a hint of a smile on her face as she walked over and sat down. Wore some kind of Dior dress if he were to guess. Expensive and loose fitting. The kind of dress that was incomprehensible if you weren’t into fashion, which she clearly was. Her golden hair was loose and she did look like a tragic heroine, didn’t she?
And Jeffrey Chambers. The fathers refused to look at one another. Had Jeffrey Chambers informed her of the fundamental link between the families? Had she finally figured out why this had all happened? Maybe she’d come to realize that this wasn’t personal.
Yes, it was, the subversive part of his mind said, the one he refused to listen to. She annoyed the fuck out of him for being so pointless and thinking she could just float into his school on a cloud of unreachability and expensive perfume.
“We are gathered here for a very somber reason,” Mr. Walters said sternly. Was he aware that he was making this sound like wedding vows? “A very grave trespass.” Clearly Mr. Walters had taught English Lit at some point and couldn’t help sounding like it. “And I understand that you, Mr. Morecroft, wish to make an apology for your reprehensible actions.”
Silence descended. Was this where he was supposed to speak? No, because Mr. Walters continued. “These actions are severely censured by the school and you clearly owe Miss Chambers and apology. Including anything you can do to mitigate the harm you have caused.”
“Of course,” Adrian said. “I deeply regret my actions and any harm they have caused.”
Cecily refused to look at him, but her cheeks were burning. Beyond her, her father sat stoically, staring straight ahead—probably because the man feared he’d beat the shit out of a teenage student if he didn’t and thereby turning this into a complete circus.
“I have, of course, removed the offending video. I did so at the earliest opportunity… on sober reflection.” It was a lie. Or was it? He couldn’t exactly remember if he’d been drunk. “I am deeply apologetic for the harm I’ve caused Miss Chambers. If there is anything I can do to… ”—what was the word he was looking for? — “remedy my actions, I would be happy to do so.”
Mr. Walters seemed to think the apology was sufficient because he turned his attention to Cecily, probably relieved beyond words that it was an apology, as the man was stuck in a room between a lion and a tiger, and their offspring.
Now the ball was in her court and he wanted to see how she’d respond. The greater part of the reason he was here, besides the fact that he had to or the school would be forced to expel him, was to see how she would deal. Her cutting him off on social left him without a direct view into her space.
He turned to her. “I am sorry, Cecily,” he said, making it sound as earnest as he possibly could, while what he was really doing was putting her in an impossible situation. An empty apology wouldn’t cut it. To say it was genuine would be a stretch, but it was somewhere in between.
Her eyes turned to him and she looked away.
“To my embarrassment, I now understand the gravity of the injury I have caused to Miss Chambers. To her reputation, her sense of security. Her trust in other people and her self-esteem. I’m responsible for all of it, and I can only deeply and profusely apologize. I understand the impact I have had on her life and happiness.” And now he was sitting here, next to her, eulogizing the point of it all. Because he was recapping what he had done to her in front of both their fathers. This couldn’t be fun for her and she was too smart to believe a single word that came out of his mouth.
Mr. Walters still looked uncomfortable, because in his gut he had to know that even a heartfelt apology, if it even was, was nowhere near sufficient to make up for this, but the man was hamstrung, having to walk a tightrope between the lion and tiger, while hoping this action was sufficient to lay this whole narrative to bed.
Probably nowhere near as awkward as what this was for Cecily.
“We have heard what you’ve had to say,” Jeffrey Chambers said and stood. Cecily followed suit, still refusing to look at him. They walked out and Mr. Walters breathed a barely visible sigh of relief.
Beside him, Adrian’s father rose and walked to the door. Adrian followed, trying to look morose for Mr. Walters, who was more than ready to put this whole issue to bed. Everyone wanted this thing to just go away.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” his father demanded.
“Well, it’s complicated. She’s pretty and makes me feel all funny.”
His father looked at him with disgust. “Stay away from that fucking girl.”
“As opposed to dumb secretaries and ambitious models?”
“Watch your fucking mouth.” No, his father didn’t like to be called out on his own bad behavior. And certainly not have it pointed out how fucking pedestrian he was.
“I mean, if you’re going to fuck someone, it should be something worth the effort.”
Stopping, his father haughtily stared at him for a moment as he probably did with all the underlings in his company and it most likely had them quaking in their boots. No, didn’t exactly work. What was he going to do, withhold his affection? That boat sailed a long time ago. Cut his allowance? It would be years before that would actually hurt. Any other parental strategies were simply beyond the man.
“Grow the fuck up and get your shit together.”
“Why?”
No answer came. “Are you planning to go through your whole life being a fuck up?”
“Does this mean you don’t want me interning in the company mailroom this summer?”
“Fuck off, Adrian.”
The man walked ahead and Adrian watched him go. There was no point keeping this conversation going. “Stay the fuck away from Jeffrey Chambers.”
Or what, he might take the rest of your fortune, Adrian wanted to reply, but knew it would be that step too far. It took quite a bit to anger his father, but he was unreasonable when he was irate. They had gone down that route before and Adrian had learned the hard limits to his father’s love and affection. So had his mother—who was now living in another country, and probably not entirely by choice.
But no, he was not going to stay away from Cecily Chambers. They were far from done. Primarily, she was still here and that wasn’t going to happen. Adrian chuckled for a moment and he drew out a packet of cigarettes and lit one. Unfortunately, there were things he’d inherited from his father.
Chapter 22
MUSIC WAS A LIFESAVER. It chose her emotions for her and she could feel bliss walking through the halls of Carterton Academy, willfully oblivious to the jeering and whispering. Her life was remarkably simple. She was there for the grades and nothing else. Last person to arrive each day, first person out the
doors. It was class and her room, and the occasional jog in Central Park if she felt restless. Who would have thought a city like New York could feel so claustrophobic.
Morgan tried to get her to go out, but mostly she refused. The worst was that this was affecting Morgan too. She was tainted by association.
And then there was Adrian. Like a predator ready to pounce at any sign of weakness. He wasn’t pleased. Clearly he’d expected her to pack up sticks and leave, and he wasn’t happy that she was still around.
The graffiti had been removed from her locker, returned to a glossy navy sheen like every other locker. And the school was happy with his bullshit apology. It was the end of it as far as they were concerned. That apology had only shown her exactly how intentional this had all been for him. A whole level of nastiness she just couldn’t understand.
What she had picked up on, though, mostly from how her father had acted was that there was something between him and Terence Morecroft. Exactly what, she didn’t know. Maybe this was some Capulets/Montague bullshit and these families truly hated each other. It would have been nice of her dad to point something like this out as she’d started at this fucking school. It would have been handy to know if there were people who inherently hated her.
Chemistry was her most pain-in-the-ass subject, because she struggled with the concepts. Something about it wasn’t clicking into place. Maybe she needed to get a tutor. Ideally some hot college guy. But truthfully, she wasn’t ready to go near another guy right now, and she hated how she’d been robbed of that trust. It was something she had to work on. All these injuries she was intent on healing.
And now she had English Lit, which was basically hell, because she refused to move from her seat and he certainly didn’t have the curtesy to do so. So there they were, grudgingly sitting next to each other.
The bell rang as she walked in the door, cutting it as finely as possible. Of course he was in his seat and she could just about see his dark eyes sparkled maliciously as he saw her. She just didn’t get it. As always, she felt him beside her, that energy of his radiating.
Her seat was cold when she sat down and she shifted uncomfortably. Mr. Anderson was continuing with Charles Dickens’ life story. But then someone came from the office and called him away. Cecily wanted to call after him and tell him not to go, but could only sit there and watch him walk out the door.
“So why are you still here, Cecily? What do I have to do to make you leave?”
Closing her eyes, Cecily cleared her throat, wondering if she could simply ignore him.
“Did you like my apology?”
“Yeah, it was heartfelt,” she heard herself saying sarcastically after just now deciding not to engage with him.
“Every single part of it.”
“So this was all part of some fucked-up family feud? How… Shakespearean.”
“Shakespearean? That’s an interesting take. If it was Shakespearean, I probably would have kidnapped you, raped you and left you for dead.” Obviously leaned toward the darker plays. Should have seen that coming.
“Charming.”
“Never said I was charming.”
Oh, he could charm when he wanted to. She’d seen the proof of that. “So now we’re done,” she said.
“I think I made it clear that we weren’t.”
“There is nothing left for you to take. Were you never taught not to be greedy?”
“I was taught to achieve my objectives.”
“Well, I’m not leaving.”
“We’ll see. I am sure I can turn the screws a little more.”
“Do you sit in your room at night and think up evil plots like some supervillain?”
He looked at her for a moment. “Just righting some wrongs.”
What was that supposed to mean? Was this the whole family feud shit again? “You can’t touch me,” she said, trying to sound confident, because she wasn’t a hundred percent sure she could back that up. As small as her life had become, it was hard to see how. Morgan would be her weak point. But Morgan really thought he was an asshole, and she was strong. Stronger than any person Cecily had ever known. Granted, she had no idea what pressure Adrian could exert on her.
“Are you sure? I remember how you burned for me not that long ago.” Seemed he was taking this in another direction from the one she feared. “Are you telling me you don’t feel it now?” he said with a smile.
“Categorically.”
“Yet you remain here.”
“Not for you.”
Luckily, Mr. Anderson reappeared, putting an end to this awkward and uncomfortable discussion. Well, Adrian was clearly gunning for her and he wasn’t giving up. He was looking for a strategy, but he hadn’t found one yet. All she had to do was remain out of reach. She needed to speak to Morgan—warn her about what was going on in Mr. Fucked-up’s head.
*
At lunch, Cecily sent Morgan a text, saying she’d be by the bleachers and then waited for Morgan to either turn up or respond, which she did with food. “I got you a sandwich, because you are getting thin.”
“Am I?” Cecily said with surprise. Skinny was never an insult, but she hadn’t noticed that she was losing weight.
“You’re looking all waif-ey. Which, don’t get me wrong, looks great, but you really should eat.”
“Had a little convo with Adrian today.”
“Acknowledging his obsession with you yet?”
“He’s not obsessed,” Cecily said, feeling goosebumps rise along her skin at the notion.
“Uh huh,” Morgan said, biting into her salad.
“He basically stated that he’s not done.”
“No kidding,” Morgan said wryly.
“And I worry that he’s going to try to get to me through you. It is the only way he could reach me. My life is so contained now, there is no other in for him. But I worry. We have to guard against him.”
Putting her fork down, Morgan crossed her arms. “You can’t live like this. Don’t buy into his game. You can’t isolate yourself just because he’s around. The world doesn’t begin and end with Adrian Morecroft.”
It kind of did around here, Cecily wanted to say. How could Morgan take this so lightly?
“You can’t fall apart because some guy doesn’t like you,” Morgan continued.
“I’ve done everything I can not to fall apart,” Cecily said, feeling unjustly accused.
“Then don’t live like a hermit. Adrian’s played his cards. He doesn’t like you. Big whoop. He’s called you a slut. So what? What else can he do?”
“Turn you into a laughingstock too?” Cecily offered.
“Look, Adrian is going to be the king of a rarified club of really bitter people. There’s no doubt about it. He might be the shit in his circles, but there are still eight million people in the city who don’t know who the fuck he is. This is your senior year. Or are you really intent on hanging with his crowd?”
“No,” Cecily said. It rubbed the wrong way that the crowd was ruined for her, but Morgan had a point. And she was off to Europe in the end, to a crowd she loved. This little episode was known about and would be forever, but her friends would get over it. “Guess I’ll never be a politician’s wife.”
Morgan laughed. “Cheers to that,” she said, holding up her can of coke. “Only the best people have skeletons in their closets.”
“How’d you get so good at talking people off ledges?”
“A gift, I guess,” she said with a shrug. “So we are going out tonight.”
“Alright, fine,” Cecily agreed, feeling the rally, but also her underlying doubts. She really wanted to be like Morgan, who just said fuck it and did what she wanted. If there was something she wanted to take from this friendship, it was Morgan’s attitude. “Fuck him.”
They toasted again with their cans. “So maybe we should stop hiding in the gym.”
Cecily dreaded returning to the cafeteria, imagining every pair of eyes turning to her as she walked in. “Maybe the courtyard.�
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Chapter 23
CECILY WAS STARTING TO go out. Adrian saw the evidence of it on Morgan’s social. Losers and nobodies. In the photos he saw, she wore this burgundy short dress with see through sleeves. Her hair was tied up and tendrils of it escaped. Cecily always looked like a princess when she dressed up. And some loser Wall Street dude was eyeing her like candy. Clearly drunk with his arm around her shoulder.
Energy surged through him. From their recent discussion, she’d stated she’d be out of reach and like this, she was. Hanging with plebs and nobodies. That dude was probably some cornfed Kansas boy with ambition to make it in the big city. The city was full of the type. Pulling out a cigarette, he lit it, unable to put his phone away.
Morgan had turned into a steadfast friend, which was a problem. The problem with Morgan was she kept herself clean and didn’t go in for ambition. For hating people with ambition, it was really annoying to come across someone without any. Who would have figured Cecily would end up making friends with the only person in school who stood behind the underdog and didn’t care if everyone turned against her? How was that for bad luck?
That loyalty was her weakness. Which meant he’d focus on Mishti, who was ambitious enough to be manipulated by it. Morgan would seek to preserve the friendship if given the choice. Loyal people didn’t give up on their friends, even after setbacks. Mishti was the key.
Total alienation had a clear setback. Cecily was effectively out of reach. What good was an enemy if you couldn’t touch them. It was her strategy—she’d said so in English Lit. Her intent was to be out of reach, and right now, she was succeeding. In order to defeat her, he needed to reel her back in. Her defiance was something he could use. Her pride. Something he’d underestimated, but it was strong.
Was it possible to make her defiant enough that he could get her to one of his parties? It seemed like an insurmountable challenge.
Scrolling through his phone, he called Seb. “Where are you?” Seb was at some bar. “I’m coming, but I want you to invite some of the junior girls, including Mishti.”