by Nora Cobb
I swear, tapping the touchscreen, which refuses to respond. “That’s not my video!” I shriek. “I can’t believe this shit.”
Marcy walks over and switches off the monitor. She looks at me with concern, and I’m not quite sure if she believes me. After all, I’m the only one who has access to my account. I don’t know what to say or do as the entire classroom silently stares at me. I know what they must be thinking. They must be thinking that the rumors are true. I grab my books and walk out of the door.
Marcy follows me out into the hallway. “Vicki.” She tries to halt me with her commanding voice.
I wave her off. “No, I have to take care of this now.”
I don’t know how they hacked my account. I don’t know which one is responsible, or maybe all three. My fist clench until my nails bite into my skin. Those fuckers crossed a line, and the first one I find is going to get it good.
Chapter Fifteen
I look in the basement of Crenshaw Hall for Dom, and he’s not there. Then I march over to the resident center, past startled faces as I glare at anyone who steps in my path. My fury is shifting into despair as I search vainly for someone to yell at. I need someone to scream at because I don’t want these hateful emotions to turn on me.
I go to the screening room, but it’s empty. I sigh, tugging my hand through my hair. There’s a laptop on the desk where Dom usually sits with the lid up. I look around the small room again, but I’m definitely alone. If it’s his laptop…but he said they don’t have a physical list. I have to look, or I’ll be pissed with myself if I don’t. I approach the laptop slowly as if it could bite my hand. I reach out a trembling to turn it around and dread what I will see on the screen. But before I can touch it, the lid closes with a smack.
I jump and stumble into Silas. He stands behind me with his hand on top of the lid. He must’ve followed me into the room. He’s too close. I can feel his breath on my lips.
“Nosy little Victoria,” he smirks. “You might lose a finger next time.”
“Is this how you did it?” I tug my shirt tightly around me.
“Did what?” His face is expressionless.
“Don’t play stupid,” I hiss. “You’re acting isn’t that good, if it ever was.”
He reaches for me. I try to sidestep him, but Silas fastens his hand around my upper arm. “I hope you’ve had fun here because it’s over. I plan to make your life hell if you remain at Redwood.”
I’m in shock. I lost the election, and he still wants to run me out of town.
“What are you going to do next?” I challenge him. “Make me cry? I’ve done that before over worse jerks than you. Am I going to run all the way back to Jersey with my tail between my legs because you rigged an election?”
“You want a preview of what will happen?” He lifts the top again and spins the laptop around, so it’s facing me. There are four names in a spreadsheet. Mine, Theo’s, Luna’s, and Dom’s.
“All four of your votes,” he says, staring down at the screen with an even gaze. “Right there on my personal list.”
I try not to look surprised, but my expression is transparent. My wide gaze reveals my shock at seeing Dom’s name on the screen. I’m not much of an actor either. I look again to see what else might be on the page that’s hidden off the screen. But Silas is too quick and closes the lid.
“I don’t get it. Dom voted for me?”
I watch Silas as if he’s willing to give me an explanation. He stares at me until I look away.
He shrugs and averts his gaze. “This has nothing to do with you, Victoria.”
I hate how he says my name. It sounds worse than calling me a bitch.
I face him again. “I thought Dom was your friend.”
“He is when he listens.” His voice takes on an edge. “Money first, friends later.”
His definition of friends is different from mine. My thin cotton shirt is about to rip in my clenched hands if I pull it any tighter. I let it go and ignore my pounding heart. I don’t know how to process Silas in my brain. I’ve never had to deal with someone so coldhearted before. Except my mother. A chill shakes my body, and I look at him again.
Fuck, he noticed.
“So,” I try to blow it off. “I either have to have money or friends to get you off my back.”
“You’ll never have enough of either,” he replies, “and I’m not interested in bargaining with you.”
I tilt my chin. “Have you made all your deals with the devil then?”
Silas gives me a look as if he’s reconsidering my existence. Maybe I can convince him I’m thoroughly badass and not a poser. The type of crazy girl who will slash his tires while he’s speeding off in his Mercedes. In a flash, I realize that if I can get Silas to back off, the others might follow. But it won’t be a quick road with him. I’m in for the long haul.
His eyes don’t blink as he watches me, and there’s more than hatred there.
“You East Coast newcomers show up and think you can take over because you think you’re smart,” he continues bitterly. “Your type underestimates everyone all the time. You called me a bully during your campaign.” He scoffs. “That wasn’t bullying. That was a warning.”
“It’s kiddy bullshit,” I lash back, “and you need to stop it. And what is this fascination with sticking paper on things? Am I going to be picking up after you all year?”
The look he gives me stops my breath. His green eyes flash then narrow as his lips curl into a tight grin. He leans toward me until I have to move and the backs of my thighs are pinned to a desk.
“You lack imagination, Victoria.”
I’m shaking, but I asked for a confrontation. I want to scream, yet I can’t find my voice. “Whatever you toss at me, I will blast it back at you, sweetie.”
“You can try, but you may lose again.”
Smirking, Silas grabs the laptop and strides out the door. He turns, looks me up and down, and strolls off. WTF was that weirdness?
I forgot to say what I wanted to say to him. I forgot to chew him out and tell him to back off. I rub my face with my hands and feel sweat on them. Silas intimidates me more than two-faced Dom or wiseass Chase. They treat me as if I am a threat, but Silas treats me as if I’m an inconvenience.
***
I drive home with the windows down and the music turned up. My Mustang moves smoothly over the two-lane highway back to my house, and my mind starts to wander. Why did Dom vote for me after threatening not to give me sponsorship? Was Silas telling me the truth and none of this has anything to do with me? I’m a nuisance that became an annoyance, and now he wants me out of Redwood. Why should he care what I do? He won, dammit.
My body shakes as I park in front of my home. The house looks so serene set in the woods surrounded by pine trees that have taken decades to grow. For the hundredth time, I wonder if I should drop out and try again somewhere else. Not Montlake, but anywhere else. I look down at my hand, and it’s trembling. Only I would notice. Am I shaking with fear or anger?
Dad doesn’t quit. He may regroup, but he waits for a better opportunity when he can get everything and more. He never quits. I need to talk to him without telling him too much.
***
“I’m sorry you didn’t win.”
Dad holds up his glass, and I tap the rim of it with mine. He took me out to eat at The Steakhouse, a fancy restaurant in the Grove in Palm Springs. I’m not normally excited by expensive things just because they’re expensive, but I’m excited by quality experiences, and I wanted to come here after I saw the online reviews. We have an amazing view from our table of the top level of the mall and the scenery outside the picture window. The wall of glass wraps around the side of the building and a mosaic of swimming pools that leads toward the mountain is visible.
“What kind of people live in Palm Springs?” I ask, chewing my salad.
“Wealthy old men and the women who chase them,” replies Dad in a somber tone.
I think about Mother as I loo
k around the restaurant. It’s an expensive place with kitschy gold-and-white décor. Crisp white tablecloths that touch the floor and waiters in fitted hunter- green vests, pouring ice water. Dad and I are younger than the other customers and most of the waitstaff.
“Have you seen Maya since moving to SoCal?” I ask.
I rarely call her Mother anymore, and I’ll burn my tongue out with my lighter if I ever call her Mom.
Dad makes a face. “No. And if I do, we’ll move to Austin.”
I sneak a look at an old man chewing lobster with his mouth open and a bib tied securely around his neck. His date looks like his granddaughter, but I doubt she is in that low-cut dress. Her left boob is about to slip out of the knit neckline if she so much as hiccups. I cringe, hoping people notice a family resemblance between Dad and me.
“Austin’s cooler,” Dad shrugged. “Bu this town will pick up once Coachella starts.”
“We won’t move to Palm Springs, will we?”
Dad shakes his head. “I have no business on your mother’s playground. She claimed Palm Springs. I’ll only visit it.”
“Who knew losing could taste so good?” I smile and take another bite of my almond-crusted salmon. “Thanks for the consolation prize.”
Dad doesn’t laugh, and his face is kind of stern. “Vicki, what you did wasn’t easy. You shouldn’t be dismissive about running for student council president.”
“I’m not.” I shook my head.
Dad smiles and then glances out the window at the setting sun. The sky looks like a piece of glazed art pottery with streaks of purple and peach blocking out the blue. Dad sighs. “Lot of swimming pools out there for a town without water.”
“I’m trying my best.” I study the food on my plate and start picking at the noodles. I keep forgetting that it must be hard on Dad to be so smart and successful and spend his time taking care of me as if I’m the family basket case waiting to unravel.
Dad takes my hand in his and grins tenderly. “Vicki, baby, you’re doing more than your best, and I’m proud of you. I see how hard you try, and it amazes me that you keep going no matter the challenge. Your determination is not something to take lightly. A lot of people don’t have it. I want you to know I’m cheering you on. You keep trying, and I’ll always be there. I’ll be there to see you succeed.”
Fuck. He made me cry. Dad hands me his napkin, and I grab it, forgetting I have one of my own in my lap.
The waiter stops at the table to refill our water glasses. He stops and looks uncomfortable when he sees us holding hands. It pisses me off.
I go off like a rocket. “He’s my dad,” I hiss. “You know. Biological, not sugar. So mind your fucking business.”
The man turns red. I’ve seen girls blush occasionally, but this guy looks like a cherry-red tomato. He clears his throat and ignores me.
“Will you be ordering dessert, sir?”
“Vicki, dessert?” Dad doesn’t give a shit how uncomfortable the guy looks.
I shake my head. “Can we pick up a pint on the way home?”
Dad tells the guy to wait and hands him his card. The waiter hurries away for the check. The hard look I hate is on Dad’s typically composed face. Tension makes a vein rise in his forehead a little bit and divides it into two. He won’t look at me either.
“Not the best manners?” I ask quietly.
“Don’t use the waitstaff as your whipping boy, Vicki.”
My eyes bug. “That’s not what I meant.” I can’t tell Dad about the gross rumors. I wouldn’t dare, but I have to explain. Why are my actions constantly being misunderstood?
“It’s not that.” I sigh, tears threatening to spill. “I need to talk to you about how to handle people.” Dad looks interested as he meets my gaze. “I need serious lessons. I’ve spent my life surrounded by rich people that I don’t fit in with.”
Dad is thoughtful as he plays with the spoon on the table, turning it in his fingers.
“Okay,” he says, “there’s a difference between a rebel and a brat. First assignment— apologize to the waiter. Sincerely.”
When the waiter comes back to the table, I do apologize. I feel better because I know I acted badly. The man is gracious enough to accept it and asks us to come again.
The valet is located on the ground floor, and we wait for the elevator outside of the restaurant on a balcony that looks down onto the mall. I’m curious to see the shops they have and if it’s worth coming back. I walk over to the waist-high rail and peer down.
Someone catches my eye—a woman that looks a lot like my mother.
You know that strong feeling you get when you recognize someone even though you only catch a glimpse of their face? That feeling washes over me, and I feel my hands trembling. I’m afraid to look, but I force my gaze on the woman again. She walks away, never turning around. But the way her body moves, and—though she’s too far away—I swear I can hear my mother’s voice. I hold onto the rail so I can see more. But she’s gone.
“Vicki?” Dad is holding the elevator door open, and I hurry away. “Are you okay? You look a little dazed.”
“I’m okay,” I say, leaning against the elevator wall. “Sometimes I don’t like heights.”
Chapter Sixteen
I sigh into the phone. “I know it was her.”
“Did your dad see her?” asks Luna.
“No, and I won’t tell him either,” I reply. “Mother Maya was caring and demanding—she cared what people thought of us and demanded we meet her expectations. Her micromanaging of my life caused an early detour.”
“Baby, you got drama,” replies Luna. “Well, you won’t see her at my house.”
I laugh and roll over onto my back across my bed. I went all out on a rock-chick theme and bought a shitload of vintage posters, black-and-white animal prints, and of course, faux black leather. My bedroom looks like a set for an Edie Sedgwick bio movie, minus the drugs. I checked out Warhol after a lecture on film and modern art, and I like her style.
“I’m serious, Vicki,” Luna continues. “Palm Springs is spread out with huge mansions and private pools. I only see the neighbors once a month from a distance.”
“Eventually, I will see her, and I better be prepared.” I grab a mirror off my bedside table and check my eyeliner, knowing Maya would disapprove of the heavy black slashes surrounding my eyes.
Luna’s face peers into my screen. “The left side is crooked. What’s her name anyway?”
“Maya Saunders…for the moment. Troy said she’s husband-hunting.”
“She’s not into alimony?” Luna asks thoughtfully. “Well, if she’s looking for a rich old guy to marry, I’ll hear about it from my auntie.”
“How does your aunt know Maya?”
“She doesn’t, but my aunt plays mahjong every Wednesday at the library. All the rich old women go there to gossip.”
I laugh. “What’s wrong with going to the hairstylist?”
“You have to spend money,” explains Luna. “The library is free. Don’t you know that, Vicki? Rich people hate to spend money. They hyperventilate when it leaves their tightly clenched fists.”
I toss the mirror aside. “I saw Silas.”
Luna grabs her phone and takes me off speaker. “Shit. What happened?”
I’m not sure how to phrase it. “He knows you voted for me, and he’s making threats.”
Luna squeals, “Against me?”
I feel worse than bad. I feel like shit knowing that my new BF is in serious trouble just because she’s a loyal person. “Maybe they’ll play a stupid prank. Just be prepared to clean crap off your car for the next week.”
“Fuck. It’s my auntie’s car. I’ve got to get my own.”
“Hold on. I’m going to go outside to smoke.”
“No longer bumming?” Luna narrows her gaze as if she doesn’t smoke a pack a day.
“You started me again, and I’m trying to quit.”
I slip my phone in my back pocket and sneak downstairs, sto
pping on the bottom step to listen for Dad. He spends a lot of time in his study on his computer. The study is the same layout as the one he had in Jersey. Big oak desk, ceiling-high bookcases, and a high-tech audio system. A man cave for a smart guy—filled with books rather than sports games and liquor. I slip out onto the deck off the kitchen, leaving the lights off. But he’ll notice a bright red dot hovering in the air if he looks outside the kitchen window.
I light up and talk at the same time. “It’s not only you but Theo and Dom too.”