by Amy Brown
I roll my eyes. “Why don’t you fuck her? You seem to like to go after the same girls as me.”
Jeremy’s face flushes. “You believe I hit on Charity? You know she’s a liar.”
“Actually, she isn’t. She’s a lot of things, but she’s not a liar.” I hold his gaze. “She’s pretty honest.”
Jeremy doesn’t respond. We both know he wanted a taste. I have no doubt he hit on her at Gregory’s party. None.
Travis leans forward, looking annoyed. “Can we focus on what we can do about Sophia? She’s coming unhinged.”
Jules sighs. “I’ve run out of ideas. She won’t listen to me lately. She’s raging at the other students constantly. She’s becoming a liability.”
I frown. “Aren’t you her bestie?”
Shrugging, Jules says, “She’d cut me loose in a heartbeat if it served her purposes. She’s my friend, but we’re all expendable.”
“Ouch.” Travis raises his brows. “With friends like you.”
Jules sniffs. “She needs to know we’re all serious. She has to cool it. She’s making it harder for us all to fly under the radar. We need to do an intervention or something.”
“We could just kick her out, see if she survives.” Jeremy bites his lower lip. “Maybe her and Charity could become besties.”
We all laugh at that one.
“I say we buy the gifts and shit we were talking about, and start Operation Bribe the Shit Out of Everybody.” Travis crosses his arms over his broad chest. “The sooner the better.”
“Yes. We need to get the students to stop thinking about rebellion, and instead think about all the cool stuff we give them.” Jules nods.
“I agree, but that won’t be enough.” I frown.
“What do you mean?” Travis asks.
I purse my lips, studying the ceiling of the restaurant. “Just co-existing with Charity won’t allow us to do what we want. She’ll make speeches about how awful we are, and the kids will be harder to push around. No, I don’t think co-existing is a thing that will work for us.”
Jeremy smiles a mean little smile. “What do you have in mind?”
Before I can answer, Travis grunts. He’s staring at his phone scowling. “Dude, Facebook already took down your photos of Charity.”
“What?” I scowl and get on my phone. Sure enough there’s a message there about my photos violating Facebook’s community standards, or some bullshit. “Fuck them.”
“Can’t we catch a break?” Jules mutters. “Just when we have something that will embarrass her, she skates by. She’s so fucking annoying. Swear to God, if those photos were of anyone else, they’d be up for a damn month, but precious Charity? Nope. They’re pulled down within the hour.”
“Someone must have reported them,” Travis says.
I toss my phone on the table, and grumble, “That bitch seems to have a guardian angel.”
“Well, she has half the school on her side. They probably reported the photos to protect her.” Jules voice is mocking. “Fucking do-gooders.”
“But see, this is what I’m talking about,” I growl. “We can’t co-exist with Charity. She needs to fall from grace. She needs to be cast out by the regular students, then we can regain control of the nobodies, and make her life a living hell.”
“How?” Travis sighs. “She’s the little darling of the school now.”
“I know.” I sip my caramel latte, feeling irritable.
We sit in glum silence for a while, and then Jules laughs. She’s staring at the screen of her phone. “You guys, you won’t fucking believe this.”
“What?” Jeremy sounds bored.
She holds out her phone. “Somebody just posted a sex tape of Coach MacDonald with some blonde chick.” She cackles. “Holy shit. This is going to fucking ruin him.”
“Damn it,” mutters Travis. “I like Coach MacDonald.”
“Everybody loves him,” I say. “Let me see.” Sex tapes in general are fun, why wouldn’t I want a peek?
Jules hands the phone over. “Doesn’t that girl look like Charity?”
“All I can see is the back of her.” Travis frowns, staring at his phone. “But, yeah, she has the same hair.”
“Same build too. Tall and thin.” Jules laughs. “Wouldn’t it be hysterical if Charity was banging Coach MacDonald? Everybody thinks she’s so perfect, meanwhile, she’s making sex tapes of her sexual escapades with the coach.”
An idea begins to form in my mind. “What if it is Charity?”
Jeremy laughs. “No way. She’d never make a sex tape.”
No. She wouldn’t. Believe me, I tried to get her to make one with me.
I lean forward, feeling excited. “People just need to think she made one.”
Travis nods. “Yeah. That’s true.”
Jules smirks. “It really does look like her from behind.”
“Whoever made this tape sucks at making sex tapes,” grumbles Travis. “I can’t even see the chick’s tits. What’s the point of a sex tape with no boob shots?”
“Could you please focus?” I ask, feeling frustrated with my pal. “We’re not here to discuss pointers on making excellent sex tapes. We’re trying to figure out how to spin this to our advantage against Charity.”
“Sorry,” Travis says, looking sheepish.
Jules squints at her phone. “It says here Coach has been suspended.” She looks up, frowning. “That blows. Man, Coach MacDonald was cool as fuck.”
“Was he though?” I laugh. “He was sleeping with his students. That’s not actually very cool.”
“True.” Jules sighs. “He was an easy A though.”
“Yeah, and now we know why.” Jeremy smirks. “Just ride his dick, and you get an automatic A in P.E.”
“I got an A in P.E. and I didn’t go anywhere near his dick.” Travis widens his eyes. “I swear.”
I exhale in exasperation. “Will you please focus?”
Jeremy meets my gaze. “What are you thinking?”
“Well, what if we make everybody think that girl with the coach is Charity. The kids love Coach MacDonald. I think they might turn on her. They won’t appreciate her getting their favorite teacher fired in disgrace.”
“Do you think they’ll believe it’s her?” Jules looks skeptical. “She’s such a goody two-shoes type.”
I laugh gruffly. “She’s no goody two-shoes. Trust me.”
“God. Don’t say that shit around Sophia. She’ll cut your dick off,” Jules mumbles.
“We need to get our minions to repost this video as much as possible. Make sure they also mention it’s Charity in the video. The more they say it, the more that will become the truth.” Jeremy rubs his chin, looking thoughtful.
“Yep.” I nod. “It’s an effective way to spread misinformation.”
“God, seems kind of mean.” Travis winces. “You sure we want to do this?”
“My plan fell through. She has no intention of leaving Longhorn Academy anytime soon. We need to literally force her out, and to do that, the other kids need to turn on her.” I grit my teeth, ignoring the wave of guilt that wants to wash over me. This is necessary. Charity needs to go, and soon. Seeing her with Patrick a bit ago confirms we can’t co-exist. My obsession with her will only grow if she’s around me.
“Okay. If this is what we’re doing, then let’s discuss coordination.” Jeremy clasps his hands on the top of the table. “We need to divide the work.”
I nod, and we begin to figure out who will do what. I’m going to repost the video as much as possible, and they’ll do the same. Principal Warren likes me. I’ll do my best to slyly convince her the girl in the sex tape is Charity. She punished Coach MacDonald by suspending him, and I’m sure he’ll be fired. Principal Warren won’t tolerate that sort of sexual misconduct from staff or students. She’ll punish Charity too. She’ll punish Charity for something she didn’t do. It’s not fair, but it’s an opportunity to get rid of her that we can’t pass up.
By the time I finally ge
t home, I’m tired and depressed. I go into the kitchen, and drink an entire bottle of water. I’d rather drink something stronger, but I don’t want to end up an alcoholic like my mom.
What the hell am I going to do about Mom?
My life feels so out of control. That video of Mom stunned me as much as it enraged me. I understand why Charity used it against me. Just as she’d protect Luke, I’ll protect Mom. She knew that about me. Charity thinks she has the upper hand now, but she’s wrong. The Elites have her in our sights. She’s a gonner. We’ve finally bested her.
By tomorrow that sex tape will be viral, and she won’t be able to prove it isn’t her. The wave of misinformation will drown out her feeble voice, and she’ll be expelled from Longhorn Academy in disgrace. I’m not worried about her releasing the video of Mom. She won’t use the video of Mom against me because she isn’t vindictive the way I’d be. She’d never destroy my mom, simply because she’s furious at me. She’s way too good of a person.
I’m angry at Mom for hiding what happened from me. Watching her plead with Charity and her mom to hide the truth from me and dad was sickening. I thought she’d do better now that dad said she could go back to work, but obviously she’s still drinking too much. Something has to change because she’s going to kill someone if she keeps on like this.
There’s the scrape of a shoe, and when I turn, Mom comes into the kitchen. She looks startled to see me, and not exactly happy either. She has a wine glass in her hand, and she sets it down quickly on the counter. I realize that I haven’t seen her much since Friday. I’d stupidly thought that was simply coincidence. But the furtive way her gaze slides from mine makes me suspicious.
She’s actively been avoiding me.
It’s not just that I’ve been busy, it’s that she’s literally evaded me. If Charity hadn’t shown me that video today, of Mom drunk and sobbing, I might never have caught on. I can barely believe that drunk pathetic woman on the video was my mom. But it was her all right; doing her best to hide the accident from me and dad.
And most importantly, the police.
“Oh, Mason. I… I didn’t realize you were home.” Her voice wobbles.
She has a small bruise on her forehead above her left eye. She told me that she’d had a Botox reaction, but now I know she lied to my face. She probably bumped her head on the steering wheel when she crashed off the road Friday evening. How many other lies have I swallowed without question?
I’m angry, but don’t want to overreact. I watch her for a moment, gathering my thoughts. “We need to talk, Mom.”
She swallows. “Oh?” She does her best to look innocent, but I can see through it now. That video Charity showed me has helped me see my mom clearly. She’s become very good at lying to my face. I chose to think the best of her, but that was a mistake. She’s obviously got a huge drinking problem. Even now, after what happened Friday, she’s drinking.
“I thought you were going to stop drinking so much?”
Her gaze flickers. “I have.”
“Really?”
She nods. “Yes.”
“So you’ve got it under control?”
She forces as smile. “Of course, honey.”
Anger flares inside of me. “I know about your accident.”
The color seeps from her face, and she watches me like a scared rabbit. It takes her a moment to regain her composure. “A dog ran out in front of me.”
“Is that right?”
“Uh, huh.” She shifts uneasily. “It ran right out in front of my car, and I had to swerve to avoid it.”
“Funny you didn’t mention anything about a dog to Charity or her mom, when you begged them not to tell me, dad or the police about your accident.”
She leans on the counter, looking ill. “Now, Mason… I can explain that.”
“Can you?” My voice is sharp.
“I just didn’t want to upset you guys.”
“I don’t believe you. You were drunk and you didn’t want us to know.”
“Drunk? No.” She brushes hair off her brow. “I… I went into town for the Women’s Blue Ribbon Dinner, as you know. They had champagne and… well… I may have had a few too many glasses. But… but I wasn’t drunk.”
“Charity took a video of you. You weren’t a little tipsy. You were plastered.”
She wrinkles her brow. “She took a video?”
I nod. “But that’s not the point. You lied to my face. You hid the truth because you know you’re out of control.”
She sighs. “Well, it’s not easy to stop drinking, Mason. I’m trying.”
I glance at the wine glass she set down when she came in the room. “No. You’re not.”
“I’m an adult. I’m allowed to have a drink in my own home.” Now she sounds annoyed. “For goodness sake. You aren’t…” She stops.
“Were you going to say I’m not the boss of you?”
She grimaces. “Well, you’re not.”
I sigh. “You should have called me. I get why you didn’t want the police involved, but you should have called me.”
“You were in bed sick.” She waves her hand toward me. “You had a concussion for all I knew.”
“Fine. But you still should have told me what happened. You hid it because you know your drinking is out of control. You even had Amanda lie to me because you know I’d see through your excuses.”
“I had Amanda keep quiet about everything because I didn’t want you over reacting. Like you’re doing now.”
“This isn’t an overreaction. You were in a car accident, and you didn’t mention it. You purposely hid it from me, dad, and the cops. That’s a problem Mom.”
She has a stubborn set to her jaw. “I’m just stressed, that’s all. You drink when you’re stressed too.”
“Yeah. I do. I drink too much.”
She looks displeased at my admission. “Well… I can handle my drinking.”
“Bullshit.”
“Hey,” she snaps. “Watch your language with me.”
I exhale, feeling frustrated. “You need to check into rehab or something.”
Her eyes widen like I’ve suggested she have shock therapy treatments with Dr. Frankenstein. “What?” She yelps. “I’m not doing that.”
“You’re going to have to do something. You can’t just keep drinking and getting into accidents. You could hurt someone. You could hurt yourself. If you get a DUI, Dad will lose his shit.”
“I’m not going to get a DUI,” she mutters.
“You need help.”
She presses her lips tight. “No. I don’t. I can handle this on my own.”
I move closer to her, confused about why she’s being so obstinate. “I thought you’d be happy since Dad said you could go back to work.”
“I am happy.” She grimaces. “But, it’s a lot of pressure. I haven’t taken a test in ages. The study material all seems so complicated, and I’m afraid I might fail.”
“Mom, that’s silly. You just study and then you’ll be fine. You know how to sell real estate already.”
“But, the questions are hard.” She sounds like a little child. “There are all these new laws that I have to brush up on.”
I scrunch my face in disbelief. “You wanted this. You blamed your drinking on boredom because Dad wouldn’t let you work. Now you’re going to say you drink because you’re afraid of going back to work?”
She licks her lips, and glances longingly at her wine glass. “You don’t understand how hard it is to go back into the work force, after being out of it for so long.”
“But… you wanted this.”
“You can want something and still be intimidated by it!” Her voice is shrill. “It’s not easy to learn at my age, and I have other problems in my life besides being bored.”
“Like what?”
“How about a husband who is never here?”
I frown. “Yeah, and working would help you keep busy.”
“Yes. I want to work.” She frowns. “But I wan
t other things too. I want my husband around sometimes.” She wipes at her eyes. “Selling real estate isn’t going to solve that little issue.”
I wonder if Dad has mentioned how stressed he is at work. I doubt it. I don’t see what it can hurt to give her some insight into why he’s never home. It helped me feel better about his absence, and maybe it will help her too. “Dad said he works so much because the younger executives want his job.”
She hesitates. “What?”
“He said he’d love to work less, but he’s afraid to not be the best of the best.”
She blinks at me. “When did he say that?”
“When we talked about you going back to work.”
“I didn’t realize you had talked about that.”
I’d wanted her to think it was all Dad’s idea, but maybe it doesn’t matter. “I was trying to convince him you should be allowed to work. He was resistant at first, but then… he changed his mind.”
Chewing her bottom lip, she looks uneasy. “Why didn’t he tell me he’s stressed about work?”
“He’s trying to protect you.”
“Well, that’s silly. I’m his wife. He should be able to talk to me about anything.” She looks annoyed now.
Great. Now she’ll blab to Dad that I told her about how stressed he is, and he’ll be mad at me. I can’t win today.
“Look, you and Dad need to figure this stuff out. It has nothing to do with me. I just don’t want you getting killed in a drunken car accident.”
“That isn’t going to happen.” She rolls her eyes.
She’s too far into her denial to listen to reason. I have to play hardball. “I want you to talk to someone. A professional.”
“Excuse me?” She laughs like she thinks I must be joking.
“You heard me.” I hold her incredulous gaze without flinching.
She moves closer, her face flushed. “I’m not doing that.”
“You are.”
Her lips thin. “What has gotten into you?”
“That video Charity showed me scared me. I’m not going to sit silently by while you destroy your liver, and maybe kill yourself, or someone else. You will talk to a professional, or I will tell Dad about the accident.”
She gapes at me like a trout snagged in a net.