by Cleo Fox
She stood from the table. "No. I have a week-long business trip to D.C. I'll be back next Friday. The maids know and have their instructions on how to care for you. Just because I'm not here doesn't mean you can eat whatever you want. They'll tell me everything."
Without even a glance back, she left the dining room. Good to know she loved me, or even wanted to say goodbye. But I already knew she didn't love me. I sometimes figured she hated me.
What mother would push her own psychosis onto their child, even when it was harming their health? Sometimes, when Monica was the one to take my levels, I could bribe her a few hundred to fudge the numbers so I could have something I wasn't supposed to, but she was the only one ballsy enough to take it.
The rest of the staff feared my mother for various reasons. When I was younger, she threatened them even more, so they wouldn't say something to CPS. Now that I was eighteen, she didn't have to worry about that anymore. Even if CPS was called, it was unlikely they'd do anything about it.
After my dad's death, I always hoped someone would say something, drop an anonymous tip to someone else, and have them call or do something. But whatever dirt my mother had on them, it was good enough to make them all keep their mouths sewn shut.
I kept my pace even as I ate the bland meal. The only thing slightly good about it was the garlic, but even that got old after the hundredth thousandth time of having it or salmon shoved down my throat. I wanted to scarf the meal down and ask for seconds and thirds.
But this was all I was allowed. The only meal I got besides it was breakfast, which was plain rolled oats with organic sweetened almond milk. Sometimes, on my birthday, she would let me have one date on top for a treat. Her version of showing kindness.
Long ago, I learned it didn't pay to sneak food or try to be rebellious. She would only employ punishments that made me never want to do it again. I shuddered at the thought.
As I finished my last bite, Roberta stepped forward to take the plate. Ever watchful that I ate the meal according to my mother's standards. No matter where I turned, I was always under her foot. There were only two ways out. To run away to a college with room and board, or end it all, just like dad did.
Standing, my stomach grumbled, unsatisfied with the small, teasing portions and nothing that tasted remotely good.
Heading upstairs, I hurried past my dad's locked office and went to my room.
I took my phone out of my purse and collapsed across my bed. I needed to search the forums for new tutors, but I needed to be discreet about who I picked. I couldn't have someone blab about the queen needing tutoring lessons in almost every subject.
My blood boiled at what that loser insinuated back at the library. I wasn't stupid. I was just missing vital information from the year before to make the new information make sense. I'd tried on my own, and it all went over my head. It was as if my brain didn't want to take in new information.
I had my reasons for not doing well the year prior. Cheerleading was only one of the excuses I used. Despite still dealing with sleepless nights, I needed to keep my grades good for the rest of the year. My ultimate end tgoal was to enroll in a faraway college in the States that offered an abroad program in France.
My dad said we'd go to Paris, and I still wanted to make that happen.
A frown pulled at my lips as I opened the sections of the forums for tutors looking for jobs and there were none that said they were taking new clients. All of them said full. Every single one. But earlier in the day, there was more than a few dozen that had openings.
My phone dinged in my hands. The image bubble for 4 Epic Tutors popped up on my screen.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I tapped to open it.
4 Epic Tutors: Hey, Chanel, this is Sai Arya. I just wanted to apologize on behalf of my friend. He can be a real douche sometimes and has no class. I feel bad. I'd still be willing to tutor you in Civics if you want. No charge even.
My heart went from zero to a hundred so fast it hurt. He was messaging me. I licked my lips, and before I could filter the thought, my fingers were typing out a sure.
I stopped myself from hitting send. I couldn't be too eager to say yes to him. I didn't even care about Civics. I just wanted to hear him talk, to say beautiful things like he did in the letter. I'd imagined his kisses a thousand times being warmer, more passionate, and one-hundred percent the opposite of what Jason had to offer.
But, I needed to keep up the bitch attitude. It didn't matter if I wanted him to like me. We could never be a thing. I didn't even want to give myself false hope over it. My message had to be indifferent. Even though all the tutor spots were taken, I'd never been on that section of the forum.
For all I knew, they filled up fast and new ones appeared every day.
Erasing the first response, I began typing.
The three little periods bounced as I stared at the screen, waiting for her reply to pop up. I looked at Zeke and the others. We sat in the finished basement of Zeke’s house, all in massive bean bag chairs.
Zeke looked back at me as he loaded a bowl on his three-foot bong. "Did you hit her up at the right time? My chick client said that all the topics should say filled on them. And my dude said she popped on. Were they right?"
I shrugged. "I don't know, man. She's typing a reply."
At that point, it was two against two. More like two against one. Bon didn't seem to care what we did anymore. He tried to talk them out of it, and when that didn't work, he gave up.
My phone dinged, and I looked down at the message.
Chanel: Whatever. And I'll pay you. I don't want you thinking we're friends or anything.
I sighed. The girl really did leave little to be desired in the personality department. That didn't mean I still didn't feel bad for her and what we were doing. "She's as pleasant as ever. She didn't directly say yes, but it isn't no either."
Rhett leaned closer. "What did she say?"
I held my phone up. "Whatever, I'll pay you. I don't want you thinking we're friends or anything."
Zeke snorted. "I'm sure she'll make Brooks a happy man someday."
With the bowl loaded, he lit the edge of it and drew the smoke up into his mouth. Lifting off it, he covered the opening with his hand, not able to take it all in one go without dying and coughing up a lung.
He handed it to Bon, who took the rest of the hit and lit more for himself. Out of all of us, he could get the biggest clouds of smoke and turn a room hazy in seconds.
We only smoked on Fridays and the weekend if we were ahead of our class schedules. Most of the time, we had assignments done well before they were due.
I looked at the phone. "What should I say to her?"
Zeke leaned back in his bean bag. "Tell her fine, and when and where you can meet up to start your first session. She has to come around to all of us if we're the only options, and then it's smooth sailing from there. Girls like her have to have some juicy secrets, and at least one of them should be okay for us to expose. We're not hurting anyone. Just teaching her a lesson in what it's like to be a human and have empathy."
As the bong went to Rhett, he took it and paused before lighting up. "Does anyone remember what she was like before high school? I was trying to remember if she was even around then, but I think I would remember someone like her."
I shrugged and stared at the blinking cursor on the messaging app. "I didn't come to the States until I was almost fifteen to start high school here. So, I have no idea what she was like before Freshman year."
Zeke also shrugged. "I transferred Sophomore year. By then, she was a raging cunt."
Bon sunk in deeper into his bean bag, eyes half-lidded as the indica strain took its cerebral hold. "I remember her being quiet. She hadn't grown into her looks yet and most of the girls made fun of her. Then Freshmen year hit and she did a one-eighty. Became hot and mean. Don't know what changed."
I frowned and took my turn at the bong. Lighting it, I drew in the smoke as much as I could, forcing mys
elf to relax and not seize up when a cough wanted to hit. I cleared the chamber and stamped out the ember with the edge of my lighter. I held in the smoke for a second longer than I should've and it came out in one massive, coughing cloud of smoke. "Seriously?"
Bon nodded. "If we could smoke at my house, I would show you a yearbook from the eighth grade. She was in my homeroom class. I don't remember her being a bad student or needing help of any kind. She was easily in the top ten percent of the school. Which is why it’s shocking she needs help in all subjects now. Something must've really fucked her over."
Zeke pulled out his phone and typed something into it. "The academy has been digitally uploading all yearbooks from the past couple of decades over the last year. They want to show future and current students the generations that came before them."
I set the bong down in front of him and sat back, her message read but still unreplied to. The warm fuzzy of the weed began to take hold. It would take another large hit before I would completely feel the relaxing haze after a long week. Once I entered pre-med, I’d have to give up smoking, so I wanted to enjoy it while I could.
Zeke handed his phone to Bon and took another hit. "Is this her? The name matches, but she looks nothing like the same person."
Bon took it, eyes half-lidded. He nodded. "Yup. That's her."
Rhett leaned forward, hand out. "I want to see. Maybe it will jog any memories I have of her from back then."
Zeke took his second hit.
Rhett stared at the image of the headshot that filled the phone screen. “Oh, yeah. I remember her now.”
I held my hand out to Rhett. I wanted to know what a girl like her looked like before she became popular and a bitch.
He handed over the phone, not saying much of anything.
I looked at her. Her red hair appeared more orange in tone and less even with the dirty-blonde highlights. She wore it in a messy bun. Thousands of freckles scattered across her face. She didn't have them currently. Which meant she either had treatments to lessen them, or she covered them up with a lot of makeup. She smiled for the camera, her green eyes shining with life. Something I noticed was missing from them when we saw her at the library without her sunglasses to hide behind.
I cleared my throat. "She does look different. Happier."
Rhett quickly took his hit as Bon passed him the piece before handing it to me. I returned Zeke’s phone and took my turn, clearing the last of the bowl.
Bon let out a sigh. "I don't know about happier. Though, that picture might've been taken before her dad's death." He looked at Rhett. "Remember? She left school for like two months to grieve his passing, and when she came back, that's when she started to change."
Rhett’s eyes widened. "Yeah. She got meaner, fighting back with insults when the other girls tried to make fun of her, and she started to wear makeup."
Her dad was dead?
Rhett shook his head. "I remember this one time before her dad died, Brooks had just started picking on me out of the blue. Before him, no one ever paid me any mind. He had cornered me in the courtyard. Called me a faggot and tossed around my things, his normal go to now, and she came up and shoved him before helping me pick everything up. Thinking back on today and how she let him manhandle her, she really did do a one-eighty."
I frowned, my gaze going back to my phone, the screen black as it had gone to sleep. "Now, I really don't think we should do this, if she was like that back then. That means she knows how to be nice. She has empathy and humility. We should just leave her alone to live her life."
Zeke sighed. "Fine man, but you're the one who will be leaving her high and dry without a tutor. Do you really want to do that to her?” The corner of his mouth twitched as he suppressed a smirk. “It's kind of douchey to offer your help, then pull it away."
I glowered at him. I didn't like how he was manipulating me. "I swear, if you take this south, I won't hesitate to punch you." I picked up my phone, turning the screen back on.
Me: Meet me where we met today tomorrow around noon. We can start on your Civics homework.
Zeke crossed his arms behind his head. "And I'll take that punch. I swear we aren't doing anything bad here. But when you meet up with her, if you get a chance, snag her phone and send me a text from it. I have a guy who will help access her cloud. Maybe she has nudes or something juicy."
My frown deepened. "Even if she does have nudes, we're not releasing them. That's just wrong."
He shrugged. "I'm sure she'll have a bra and panties one that we could use for something. Then, no one is seeing all the goods. It would be no worse than posting her in a bikini, and everyone saw that at last year's end of the year beach trip." He laughed. "If it makes you feel better, if there are any nips showing, we'll have Bon photoshop them out. Then, it's no harm, no foul. Nothing worse than what anyone would see of her at the beach. Does that make you feel better?"
It didn't. Not by a long shot. Why am I going along with this insane plan? I should just tell him and the others to fuck off. I could still help her and not use it as a means to get back at her for hurting my ego and feelings three years ago.
But another darker part of me wanted to see how it would play out. How she would react. I could always be the voice of reason if they tried to take things too far. I could stop them from doing something that was too hurtful.
So I'd stay, see where it all went. I'd be the voice of reason to their insanity, but also satiate my curiosity.
I sighed and looked at myself in the mirror, everything perfect. Not a freckle in sight.
They were mostly gone due to the laser treatments my mother forced me to get to make them more faded. The ones that still showed up, I covered with makeup.
I scowled. I hated makeup. I didn't enjoy putting it on. I didn't like gluing on eyelashes. I'd never been the type of girl to take pleasure in the process of it all. Nothing wrong with girls who did like it; I wished I was more like them. Maybe, because I was forced to hide things, it made me not enjoy putting the stuff on.
I chose to wear another turtle neck to hide the choke bruises from Jason, this one a pale-blue to go with a knee-length, pleated skirt. The weather wasn't so hot at the beginning of September that I couldn't still get away with covering up. I pulled my hair into a tight bun, the easiest style I could think of.
Would he still find me beautiful, even though I didn't put as much work into my outfit?
My heart hammered. In an hour or so, I’d be sitting with Sai in the library, going over the last week of lessons for Civics. He’d help break down what I should focus on for the essay due on Tuesday. I'd tried to do it on my own, but no matter how many times I read over my notes and the lessons, none of it sunk in.
I used to have no issue with studying and doing my homework myself. I used to get assignments in on time and had all A's in every class. I don't know what happened. But I wanted to get that old part of me back. I just had to get past the part of me that still felt unmotivated and didn't give a shit what grade I got. I knew that part of me would end up killing me if I couldn't get past it.
Standing from my vanity, I double-checked my bag to make sure I had my tablet for reading the textbook and my laptop. I even grabbed a notepad and pencil in case it came in handy.
At least we were meeting somewhere super private. I'd never been more thankful for the city library since it drew attention away from the archaic Jacobson Library and left it deserted by most except for the occasional senior citizen. I just hoped they were too old to know or care who I was.
As I left my room and descended the stairs, Monica stood at the bottom, kit in her hand. She had tested me that morning before I could shove the disgusting oatmeal down my throat to give my body something to run off of for the day. I couldn't be a fuzzy headed slug when I met with Sai. I didn't want him thinking I was so stupid that I was hopeless, like his asshole friend.
My phone dinged in my purse, but I ignored it as I held out my hand for her to prick my finger. I guess she was told to
get a baseline if I were to leave the house for an unspecified amount of time. Like my mother, she was an expert at getting a bubble of blood to put on the strip.
She looked at the readout. "Normal range."
Wanting to roll my eyes, I held it in. I needed to butter her up for something, and she wouldn't be so kind if I gave her attitude. "Since my mother is out of town for a week, could you look the other way tonight? I’d like to go to the amusement park. They're only going to be open a month or so longer, and I don't know if she'll take another trip before they close for the winter. I'll compensate you for your secrecy and forging my end of day blood sugar results. Just make it a few points different from last night. She'll never know."
Monica gave a shrug and nodded.
Pulling out my phone, I frowned at the icon that alerted me to a waiting message. I didn't recognize the profile picture.
Ignoring it, I selected Monica’s profile, and opened the message I had with her, the thread only filled with me sending her money. I sent her two-hundred dollars. A hundred for her silence, and a hundred for her to forge my blood sugar.
She took her phone out of the apron she wore at the front of her blue dress uniform and accepted the payment. "My lips are sealed. Luckily for you, Roberta has the day off and won't care one way or the other. I'm not as afraid of your mother as she is. Just don't leave any evidence of your fun anywhere your mother can find. And you know to keep a low profile." She smiled and patted me on the shoulder. "You go ride those roller coasters. You deserve a break from all this once in a while, so you don't go insane."
I made a smile pull at my lips before I nodded, relieved she took my bribe. Her words brought little comfort. She may not be scared of my mother enough to not forge things like where my blood sugar ended for the evening, but also she never went to the cops or anyone else to let them know what my mother was doing to make sure I stayed just above skeletal thin.
"Thanks, Monica. Take the rest of the day off. I won't be home until late tonight. No reason for you to sit around this dreary place with nothing to do."