“Yep.” When we pulled in, Mr. Zanotti was already there, wearing his ever-present dark suit, perfectly coordinated pressed shirt, and shiny tie, with cell phone in hand, shouting almost as loud as the security guard had. As soon as I stepped out of the cruiser, my dad’s sedan parked next to us.
Once we’d answered their questions, the police finally let Ashlyn and me leave. When I slid into the front seat of Dad’s car, I spied Ashlyn in her father’s black SUV, the car he carted his clients around in, clearly getting an earful from Daddy. Her eyes were pointed at the floor, as they had been for most of the evening, and I thought I saw a tear falling down her pale cheek. For half a second, I felt bad for her . . . and then I remembered how we’d gotten here.
The ride home was just as uncomfortable for me as I’m sure it was for Ash. I gave up trying to defend myself when my dad started using words like “disappointed,” “unsafe,” and “poor judgment.” Hearing how I wasn’t living up to my potential stung. When he said it made him sad that I hadn’t come to him when I first realized my friend was dating someone I didn’t trust, my heart broke a little. I couldn’t find the voice to say I thought I could handle the situation by myself.
In the past when I screwed up, my dad had given me the proverbial eyebrow raise and let Belén deal with my consequences. She had very specific thoughts on right and wrong. And if I felt she’d been too harsh, he’d always found a way to smooth it over quietly—when she wasn’t looking, of course. Which meant his speech hurt that much more, because I knew he felt I’d let him down. It felt like we’d crossed some kind of barrier I didn’t even know existed.
At the house, Belén stood in the kitchen, hands on her hips, mouth turned down in an angry frown. Tilly was at the kitchen table, AP Calculus book open, punching the buttons on her graphing calculator. She didn’t even bother to lift her head when we came through the door.
“Well?” Belén’s tone was sharper than her favorite steak knives. Tilly finally looked up at me with feigned interest. Actually, she was probably very interested, but she’d never let on.
“Well nothing,” I replied, immediately going into evasive mode, my best defense against the stepmonster. I poked my head into the refrigerator and pulled out a ginger ale.
Dad cleared his throat. “We have a meeting with Tom Alves scheduled. It seems the girls may be charged with grand larceny.”
Tilly’s eyes got so big, I thought they might fall out of her head.
Belén’s finger tapped her hips like she was itching to wave it at me, and her face was a blotchy patchwork of pink and red. I’d never seen her this mad. “May be?”
“Well, Tom’s going to dig around and see if he can find anything to use as leverage. We’ll discuss it with him after he speaks with the commonwealth attorney.”
I opened the soda can with a loud popping noise, and tiny droplets of ginger ale splattered my nose. I wiped them away and backed myself up against the counter, cold marble pressing into my back.
Belén let out an annoyed sigh. “How can you be so casual about this, Tatum? Do you know what you’ve done? The danger you put yourself in?” She could be a little dramatic sometimes. It was probably all her time spent in litigation. And on the parenting blog.
I took a slow sip of my soda, swallowed, and eyeballed her. “Yes, I know exactly what I’ve done. And that would be a big fat nothing wrong. The only thing I’m guilty of is trying to protect my friend from her sketchy boyfriend, and failing. No, I didn’t know he was going to steal that stuff. No, I didn’t help him. My plan was to go to Mason’s, buy some pencils, maybe help Ashlyn pick out some nail polish, and come home. Contrary to popular belief, a field trip to visit our city’s finest was not on my agenda today. So can everyone please calm down?”
Belén’s jaw clenched shut and her eye started twitching. I wondered if steam might start coming out her ears next. Tilly had turned her face back to the math book, but I knew she was listening and probably filing this conversation away for later. My dad remained quiet, a sign of danger. My father is a pretty thoughtful man. He ponders his words before he speaks, and the majority of time he’s able to come up with a solution, if needed, and to say it calmly. But when he stayed in his head too long, I knew it was because he didn’t know what to say, or was afraid to say what he was thinking. That conveniently made it easier for him to defer to Belén, who was always happy, thrilled even, to speak up.
He finally shook his head and, barely above a whisper, said to me, “Tatum, please go to your room for the rest of the night.” I opened my mouth, like a bass about to bite, and then shut it. There was no use arguing against that point. I’d wait until everyone had calmed down and then plead my case again. I climbed the stairs and didn’t look back.
“And here you are with me. Thank you for being candid, Tatum.” Mr. Alves continued reading me the terms of our agreement with the CA. “You’re being asked to pay a fine of five hundred dollars by September first.”
“Which you will be paying out of your pocket,” Dad said. I groaned. Goodbye tablet.
“The CA is also requiring one hundred hours of community service. You can choose the location as long as there’s a supervisor who can sign off on the paperwork. Same completion date as the fine.”
Somehow, I knew that was coming. “And Chase and Ashlyn? Am I allowed to know about them?”
“Mr. Massey’s fate will be decided at his trial. I feel confident saying he’s likely going to jail.”
I sucked in a breath. “Ash?” I whispered.
He looked at his papers. “It appears all charges against Miss Zanotti are being dropped. Perhaps she provided some additional information about Mr. Massey.”
I was glad Ash wasn’t facing jail time like Chase. I was decidedly not glad that she was getting off scot-free. I kept that precious thought to myself.
My lawyer stood, marking the end of our meeting. “Ken, Belén, always a pleasure. I’m sorry this meeting wasn’t under better circumstances, but I think for the most part, this issue ends here.”
I was so glad he thought so.
Chapter 2
In terms of life events, my getting arrested was either pretty horrible timing or pretty perfect, depending on who you were talking to. I was thankful it was June, and a week away from the last day of school. I wouldn’t have to see my classmates and listen to the rumor mill blow this out of proportion for long. It would be forgotten by the time school started after Labor Day, in favor of who broke up with who and where so-and-so was applying early to college. I could spend my summer not going to the beach, not hanging out with my friends, and not staying out late in quiet solitude. I hoped, anyway.
On the flip side, Dad was leaving. He worked for the State Department and was forever being sent to faraway countries—this time to Botswana for eight weeks—in order to bring magical, democratic diplomacy to people who supposedly needed him more than I did. Dad and I, despite all the changes that had happened in our family during my lifetime, had always been allies. I was used to him being gone, but I wasn’t used to him leaving and being mad at me.
As if I wasn’t feeling bad enough about my situation, he decided to lay down some new rules for me to follow in his absence. He chose his last dinner at home to share them, having wonderful timing himself.
“Tatum, you know Belén and I are disappointed by your recent actions.”
“I know, Dad.” I wanted to wave a magic wand and remove this whole mess from everyone’s memories. Mine included.
“We have discussed the situation, and while we applaud you for trying to protect Ashlyn, it does not negate the fact that you put yourself in a very dangerous situation, and we are unwilling to let that slide without some consequences. While I’m gone, your stepmother will be in charge.” Like she wasn’t in charge all the time, anyway? I slipped my hand under the table and into my pocket, running a finger over the warm metal of my keychain for confidence.
“If you are not babysitting, you will be performing your communit
y service or you will be here. If you want to go on any type of outing, or participate in an activity, Belén needs to authorize it first.”
I narrowed my eyes and slid them back and forth between my dad and Belén. “So, this is house arrest. She’s my jailer, is what you’re saying.”
Dad sighed. “That’s an ugly word, but yes, in a nutshell.”
Excellent. If the police weren’t going to lock me up, the stepmonster would. “Great,” I muttered under my breath.
Belén frowned, the edges of her mouth dipping so low toward her chin, I thought her face might crack. “Your father and I wish you had let a trusted adult know Ashlyn was in trouble with this Chase character, but that didn’t happen. And now you need to accept the consequences.”
“Well, the state of Virginia has already helped you out in that department. I’d say a five hundred dollar fine is a pretty big consequence for doing nothing. I get that you want me to learn this life lesson, but it’s completely unnecessary.” I knew I was being rude, but I didn’t care. “Though it’s not like I have anyone to hang out with, anyway,” I mumbled. Ashlyn hadn’t said a word to me since we left the police station.
Belén folded her hands, laid them on the table, and squared her shoulders. She was intimidating, for sure, but I wasn’t going to cower. I needed to keep my dignity intact, after all, if I was going to be contending with her by myself for two months. Her expression softened a little when I didn’t look away, and she sighed before speaking again. “In addition, my mother will be moving in with us for the summer, so when I’m at work or in court, you’ll need to listen to what she says.”
My eyebrows shot up. Blanche was moving in? I knew this was meant to be another punishment, when really Belén’s mother, Tilly’s abuela, was secretly one of my favorite people. I mean, I hardly knew her since she’d visited a grand total of two times in the eight years we’d been a happy little family, but it was obvious to anyone with half a brain that she didn’t seem to subscribe to Belén’s parenting style. And in my book, that made her a rock star.
I nodded. “Sure thing.” A chilly, hard stare came back, and I looked away from Belén. I didn’t want my forehead to freeze.
“I mean it, Tatum. I’ll be working, and as you know, Tilly will be participating in the District Ballet Company’s summer intensive.” A small, satisfied smile crossed her lips, as per usual whenever Belén was discussing her daughter’s accomplishments.
Tilly was a classically trained ballerina, and even my cranky self couldn’t deny that she was a really good one. She’d been in a specialized dance program for three years now. When Tilly got her acceptance letter to McIntosh High School for the Arts, Belén and my dad took us all out to a fancy dinner to celebrate. A year later, I got one thanking me for applying to the visual arts program, but sadly there was no spot for me in the freshman class. No dinner that time. Tilly had also spent the last few summers participating in courses led by frou-frou dance companies all over the country. Belén insisted Tilly stay close to home this year so she could work on her college essays: in other words, so Belén could edit them for—I mean with—her.
“Sounds like a plan.” There was nothing left for me to do but just go with it.
“One more thing, Tatum.” Belén held her palm out. “Car key, please.”
“Excuse me?” My fingers tightened around the metal in my pocket.
My dad nodded at me, punctuating the request. I slowly pulled the keys out of my pocket and winced while putting them on the table. As Belén reached out, I snatched them away from her. “Hold on a second.” I carefully removed only the car key, leaving my house key still attached to the thick silver rectangle of my keychain. I pushed the car key to Belén, eyes stuck on my dad.
The wrinkle in his forehead softened, and the hard line of his mouth tipped into a sad smile. He came over to my chair and offered me a half-hearted side hug. “You know we love you, honey.” I did. Love wasn’t the issue here. Even though he was speaking those special words—the ones that seal the pact between parent and child, that assured he’d always have my back—somehow it felt like he and Belén were now on one side of that invisible line, and I was on the other.
“I know, Dad.”
“I want you to know that I’m trying very hard to put myself in your shoes.”
He was? Could’ve fooled me. He was the parent who would sneak me dessert when Belén decided I didn’t deserve it. He was the parent who consoled me when I got a low test score, and paid attention to when my colored pencils had been sharpened down to nubs and replaced them without my asking. Belén was the one who preferred to dole out discipline like Halloween candy.
“And I’d like you to try just as hard to put yourself in my shoes too. Think about what happened from my point of view, Tatum.” Okay. I nodded, wondering where he was going with this. “You are the most important person in my life. In my eyes, you have been extremely lucky in this situation.” Was he kidding? “Spending time with Chase, even with the best of intentions, was incredibly risky. Something much worse than a fine and a misdemeanor charge could’ve happened to you. I want very much to trust that you’re going to make the right decisions when you’re on your own, and this time, there was a better choice. Can you at least see where I’m coming from?”
I opened my mouth to say something smart, but then shut it. I wanted to point out that he wasn’t just an observer of this disaster, that he knew me deep down, that I wouldn’t willingly put myself in harm’s way. But the look on his face was so final, so decisive, that I couldn’t. Was it possible this one slip up scared him into not trusting me?
“If you want to be treated like an adult again, you need to show us that you can behave like one. I know you think we’re being unreasonable. But I hope that by the end of the summer, we will all be on the same page, ready to start fresh. You’ll see. Let’s use this time apart to really think, both of us. I will if you will.”
I nodded, not really sure of what I was agreeing to, but still too shaken to speak due to the combination of shame and confusion warring with each other in my head.
“I love you, Tatum. More than anything.”
“I know. I love you too, Dad.”
He left first thing the next morning, and I was alone.
After Dad left, I holed up in my room the whole weekend under the guise of studying for final exams. When I’d had enough of balancing chemical equations and analyzing Animal Farm, I took a break from my books and pulled out my laptop. It was boxy and heavy and ran slower than I would like, but it worked. And it was mine, which was really all that mattered. For what seemed like the millionth time, I checked my email. Nothing from Ashlyn. I didn’t expect it at this point—it had been a couple days since what my family was referring to as “the incident”—but that didn’t stop me from hoping she might apologize.
Right. Wasn’t going to happen. I sighed.
Like I always did when I needed something to make me forget life for a minute, I pulled up Photoshop and opened my current project. I was working on a logo for this girl Abby’s blog. She wrote for the school paper and was planning to launch a personal website over the summer. She’d asked me to make something up for her that she could stick on her site, her social media accounts, business cards, and “anything else I might need. A girl needs to advertise, you know,” she’d said. “How much do you charge?” She’d pulled me aside in our English class a couple weeks ago.
“No, I couldn’t charge you.” I was surprised she’d even asked. I just played around with graphics for fun.
“Why the heck not? You’re good. You could be making some serious bank.” Abby and I weren’t close—we’d only met this year in school—but I liked her. She told it like it was. We had worked together on a project earlier in the year, and I’d designed the slide show we presented to the class—complete with my own graphics, of course.
“Huh,” was my only answer. I hadn’t considered getting paid for my work, but maybe she was on to something.
&
nbsp; I finished cleaning up the logo, which I was super proud of, and sent it off to Abby the moment I was done. She wrote me back in seconds.
Unbelievable about Ashlyn Zanotti, right? And with only a few days left in the year too.
My heart stopped.
What now? What are you talking about?
I thought you would have known? She left school. Shipped off to some boarding school in the mountains. Valley something or other.
Oh. My. Goodness. I didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. Blue Valley Academy. The private, girls-only school with the big price tag and even bigger set of expectations the students had to follow. Whenever Ashlyn stepped out of line, her father’s line, he threatened to send her there to “shape up.” He had brochures posted around the house as reminders to follow his rules—rules which were eerily similar to Belén’s, though no one ever offered to send me away.
The strictness of our homes was one of the things Ashlyn and I whined together about, and often. She told me once that I was her favorite person because I let her just be herself. I thought the exact same thing about her. The nights she slept over, giving both of us an escape, were filled with some of my best memories over the last few years. We’d shut my door, turn on the music, and have colossal dance parties, complete with hairbrush microphones and rock star makeup.
It seemed Mr. Zanotti had followed through on his threat, something I don’t think Ashlyn ever believed he’d do. Bet she wasn’t laughing about it now.
Great logo, btw. Change the color to purple and I’m sold.
I smiled to myself, pleased Abby liked my design.
Thank you. I like the way it came out too.
She responded again in lightning-quick speed.
Of course I’ll be giving you credit on my site. Hopefully get you some more clients.:-)
Clients? I’d need to start my own freelance business if this was going to be a real thing. But the idea of getting paid to do something I loved, I had to admit, was kind of electrifying. The gears of my brain started turning as I conjured visions of me becoming a small celebrity at school, followed by a spot at the college of my choice, and eventually leading to a job, maybe as a designer for a publishing house or advertising firm. I drummed my fingers on my chin. This could work out nicely for me if I played my cards right.
It Started with Goodbye Page 2