by Rebel Hart
“I didn’t have much of a choice,” I tell him as I roll off of his body and look for the rest of my clothes.
He gets up and walks into his kitchen, throwing some kind of frozen food into his microwave. Emmett always gets hungry after we have sex, which has been an endearing quirk to learn about him. As sexy as it is to have a boyfriend with his own apartment, sometimes I miss the days when he was hiding out in a cheap motel. Things felt even more scandalous and romantic then.
Emmett’s mom let him back into the manor long enough to pick up a few things from his room, but she made sure he had no way to collect his bed and other furniture. He’s tried looking for a job, but as he expected, he hasn’t had much luck. His mom and sister, as well as the Hendersons, made sure everyone in town knew better than to hire him.
He’s been living off of whatever money he could make from selling his car and a few other heirlooms he retrieved from his room. He picked up an old sofa and mattress from the thrift store, but other than that the place is mostly empty. A poster from one of his favorite bands hangs crooked near an old television set. The rest of the walls empty with an almost taunting sadness.
Every time I think about how empty and gray the whole place is, I’m amazed he manages to stay in as high spirits as he does each day. But I know he’s just banking on us leaving town right after graduation. Once we get to a new place, hopefully before his reputation in Jameson catches up with him, he’ll be able to get a job and start figuring out the rest of his life.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to a large box plopped near the front door. One that I am positive we tripped over at some point in our mad rush to get into each other’s pants.
“Another box of shit from the manor,” he answers despondently as he slides it over to the couch. “That’s what I was doing the day of your accident. I had to go pick it up. They brought it to the gate of course. Wouldn’t even let me pull up to the door.”
“That was…nice of your mom I guess…to give you more of your things?” I wince awkwardly, knowing very well that there’s nothing nice about any of this. A box of stuff? Great. How about a bed or the rest of his clothes. Money for food. Or any number of things she could still be providing her son who’s barely eighteen.
“Oh, it didn’t come from my mom,” he grunts. “The house staff of course. I guess they felt sorry for me.” He rummages through it, pulling out random items. A baseball, a t-shirt, and a few books. “It’s all pretty useless.”
One leather-bound book with no words on the front catches my eye just as he grabs it and tosses it to the ground. I quickly snatch it up and open it out of curiosity. There’s handwriting on the front page, in perfect cursive, that reads Property of Marissa Vanderbilt.
“Who’s Marissa?” I ask, trailing my thumb over the old ink.
“My mom,” he shoots back curtly as if it stings to say it. “I don’t know why they threw that in there. Must have been a mistake.”
“Her diary,” I gasp, rolling over to my stomach at rapt attention. “Did you read it?”
“Hell no,” he groans.
I can tell he wants nothing to do with it, but something about it seems important to me. Nothing about his family makes any sense. They’re corrupt, greedy, and heartless. But reading his mother’s private thoughts seems like the perfect way to try to make sense of it all. It could provide some insight into what goes through her head that allows her to treat other people so terribly. I can’t resist stashing the book away in my coat.
With the diary hidden away, I look back up to Emmett. He’s standing over the kitchen counter chewing on his microwaved burrito, but he’s staring ahead in deep thought.
“You okay?” I ask.
He barely moves, making me think he didn’t even hear me at first. “Yeah,” he says blankly. “Just tired I guess.”
But I know he’s lying. What his family has put him through and the position they’ve left him in is still a big, raw wound in his life. I know it hasn’t been easy to go from being a spoiled rich kid living in a manor with his whole privileged life laid out before him down to the slums. A crappy apartment with nothing in it and no job. All while still walking through the prestigious halls of WJ Prep where any student would be literally disgusted if they saw the way he was living.
He was almost relieved at the thought of withdrawing and going to a public school, but Thomas Jameson had paid his tuition up long before his death. I think the only reason his mom didn’t make a point to have him kicked out was so Malcolm would be able to fuck with him up until graduation.
“I should probably get going,” I announce as I pull myself to my feet, still feeling dizzy from the amazing sex. Emmett nods slightly but still seems as if he’s off in another world. “Unless you want me to stay,” I suggest with concern. “Keep you company?”
“Nah,” he shakes his head, pushing around the last bite of his food. “Like I said, I’m tired.”
“Well…then…I’ll see you tomorrow,” I nudge my way into his arms, pulling myself against his chest. “I’ll meet you there. I finally don’t need a ride.”
“Hey. I gave you a ride plenty of times even when you did have a car,” he reminds me playfully. “I kind of liked our morning drives before our first class.”
“I know,” I smile fondly. “But I’m so excited to have my own car again, I’m looking forward to driving myself. At least for tomorrow.”
He kisses my forehead and walks me to the door. After I’ve driven home, I plop down onto my bed and am almost half asleep before something brings me back to life. I see the diary on the floor, poking out from underneath my hoodie. I grab it and slide under my comforter, thinking I’ll be asleep in no time. Marissa’s private thoughts may be disturbing, but I can’t imagine them being entertaining enough to keep me awake. I switch on the lamp next to my bed and turn to the first entry, dated January 1995.
“January, huh. Same month it is now,” I muse to myself as I start to read.
Dear Diary,
Today my parents informed me that I’d be attending prom this year. I thought I might have to wait until my junior year, but the family they have decided I will marry into has a son who is a senior. The Jamesons. The founders of the town and the automobile company that this whole place revolves around. Their son’s name is Thomas. He is one of those untouchable kids at school. I’ve seen him and his friends picking on the other students a lot. The only reason they haven’t bothered me is because my parents befriended the Jamesons as soon as we arrived. They know we are old money and therefore in the club.
I’m excited to go to prom, but I’m scared about what it means. I know there’s no use arguing with my parents about it. But I don’t want to rush off into marriage and kids as soon as I’m done with school. And with Thomas being next in line to take over the automobile company, it means that if I’m married off to him, I’ll be stuck in Jameson forever.
I want to travel and see the world! I know my parents will never allow me to do that on my own. Not when they’re determined for me to secure the future generations of our family. The only way to do that is for me and my siblings to marry into other families who are just as wealthy. I have always known that this was expected of me, but I had secretly hoped I would by some miracle be married off to a man who would show me the world. Someone I could travel and have fun with.
Maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Who knows what Thomas will be like. I guess I will find out tomorrow when he officially invites me to prom.
~Marissa
I force myself to close the book as my eyelids grow heavy, but I am already sucked into this time capsule of Marissa’s life. I have to double-check the date to make sure it is actually Emmett’s mom’s diary and not her mother or grandmother’s. Arranged marriage? It seems like such an ancient practice, but I guess the ultra-rich do have different ways of doing things.
My mind drifts back to the moment Emmett asked me to prom. How good it felt to hear those words and the flurry of butterflies
it set off in my stomach. I can’t imagine having that stolen away by not even getting to choose your own date and being informed of the decision before the guy even has a chance to ask. The Elites sure do have a strange way of running their kids’ lives, but I guess I’m not surprised given everything I already know about them.
I shrug and drop the book to the floor, sliding it under the bed so Emmett doesn’t see I’ve stolen it the next time he comes over. Maybe it’s wrong of me to pry into his family’s life, but he didn’t care to read it. If I can find some glimmer of humanity in who his mom used to be, maybe it would help him feel better about who she has become. To know that once upon a time, his mother was a kind and decent person.
Chapter Nine
BOOK 3
It’s an especially cold and snowy Saturday evening as I finally park my car in the driveway at home. I can see the freshly shoveled snow piled into the yard and almost feel bad that I wasn’t here to help. It seems unfair that after working such long, hard days all week, Mom and Brendan still have so much housework to tend to.
I want to help more, but they keep insisting I just need to focus on school and track. Part of me wonders if they’re banking on some far-fetched dream of me having a successful athletic career to fund their retirement. I have my own dreams about the same thing, but I try not to get my hopes up. The pressure is too distracting.
“Mom!?” I yell out as I rush inside, desperately needing to warm up.
“Dining room!” she yells back.
I hear a man’s voice and for a brief moment am terrified Theo might be back. But thankfully, it’s just Brendan. They both look exhausted and have a pile of papers spread out in front of them, but they quickly sweep it all up into their arms and stash it away as I come in.
“How was your interview?” my mom’s face brightens.
“Great,” I shrug, half-surprised. “I’ve gone to so many of these by now I barely even get nervous anymore.”
“That’s fantastic, sweetie,” she answers warmly, but there’s a worrying distance in her voice. “There are leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
“Thanks, but I grabbed something on the way home,” I tell her, already turning for my room.
“Ophelia,” she stops me. “Could you sit down for a minute? We need to talk to you about something.”
“Okay…” I answer slowly, pulling out a chair, feeling afraid of what could possibly be wrong now. No good talks ever start with that tone.
“It’s about college, actually,” she explains. “We wanted to wait until later to bring it up, but…well…now is as good a time as any.”
“What about it?” I blink from the edge of my seat.
They shoot each other a hesitant glance, but finally, Brendan takes a deep breath and starts talking. “We’ve never kept our financial situation secret from you. You know we’ve struggled over the years to make ends meet.”
“Of course,” I nod with wide eyes while I am instantly hit with a heavy feeling of guilt. “But you’ve always taken good care of me. I’ve never really wanted for anything, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Really I…”
“Thanks,” he blurts, cutting me off. “You really don’t have to say any of that.”
“It’s our job to take care of you,” my mom smiles, reaching over to squeeze my hand.
I stare blankly ahead, thinking if they don’t get to the point soon, I might have some kind of panic attack.
“But there’s one thing we haven’t been able to do,” he adds.
There’s a heavy silence that makes my heart pound in confusion.
“It’s your college fund,” my mom announces with a heavy sigh. “We had some money saved but moving here to Jameson depleted some of it. And it’s just been one thing after another since then.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have much of anything to give you for college,” Brendan states, looking ashamed and disappointed.
“Phew!” I exhale in laughter, clutching my chest. “Don’t scare me like that! I thought something was really wrong!”
They shoot another concerned look at each other before turning back to me with baffled expressions. “Something is wrong,” my mom urges. “We have no money to give you for college. Do you understand?”
“I don’t need it though,” I insist cheerfully. “Coach is certain I’m going to have plenty of scholarship offers to choose from.”
I feel slightly offended that they’re not more aware of how much of a reality that is. Have they been keeping track of my grades or athletic record at all? Have they even been listening to me? Of course, I’ve got this covered.
“Ophelia, you know Brendan and I plan to stay in Jameson no matter where you go to school,” she explains. “At least for a little while. We can’t afford to move again so soon.” I bite my lip, holding back from spitting out that they’d never want to stay here if they knew the whole truth about this town. “Which means you’ll be doing more than just starting college,” she continues. “You’ll be living on your own. There’s rent and groceries and all your other living expenses that will have to be covered. A full-ride scholarship is great and all, but I’m afraid that doesn’t quite cover all your bases.”
“So…I’ll get a job,” I shoot back dismissively. “What’s the big deal?”
“You can’t go to school full time and work and keep up with track all at once,” she asserts, looking at me like I’m crazy. “I’m afraid…you may have to consider…going to school somewhere nearby. So you can still live here with us.”
A million things flash before my eyes at once. Every moment in WJ Prep when I first came here and the Elites tortured me. All of my worst memories of Emmett before he was free from their control. My destroyed car and the sight of it flying off the cliff. Emmett’s apartment and the hopelessness in his eyes that grows every day we’re forced to stay here.
“No!” I exclaim too quickly and too loudly. “Absolutely not. I appreciate everything you did to get us here so I could go to WJ Prep, but after I graduate, I have to get out of here. I just…I have to. I’ll figure it out. I’ll work however hard I have to.”
Her hand reaches for mine again. “Honey, I know it’s been a rough year. You and Emmett found his dad’s body…and then you disappearing those few days. The car accidents and your dad coming back into the picture…” I bury my face into my hands, thinking while that sounds like an awful lot to deal with, those are just the things she knows about. They’re only the tip of the iceberg. “I can understand why you’d be anxious for a fresh start.”
Brendan clears his throat, grabbing her attention for a moment. He nods as if there’s something else she’s not telling me.
“There’s one more thing you could consider,” she offers with a lingering uncertainty. “To ensure you have plenty of time to focus on everything you need to without stressing over money. And so you could attend any school you want to.”
“What?” I ask anxiously.
“When your dad visited and brought your new car and phone…,” she says slowly. I immediately start shaking my head ‘no’ before she even has a chance to finish, which just makes her speak louder and more urgently. “He offered to pay for whatever expenses your scholarship wouldn’t cover. An apartment, miscellaneous funds, textbooks, supplies…whatever you need. He said he’d be happy to take care of it.”
“No!” I shriek. “Are you crazy!? This is getting to be ridiculous!”
“That’s enough, Ophelia,” she barks sharply. “Theo has made a lot of kind offers to be the dad he should have been all these years, at least financially if nothing else. And you’ve been nothing but rude and ungrateful to him every step of the way!”
I fly up from my chair in exasperation. “I faked a smile and sat through his surprise dinner visit! I let you talk me into taking that car and the phone. I even had lunch with him one day!” I fume. “I’ve tried my best to go along with all this…for your sake. But you…you don’t understand who he…,” I catch mysel
f as naïve faces burn into me. They don’t know Theo like I do. So, of course, they can’t understand why I’m acting this way. It dawns on me that this may be the time to tell them everything. I’m not ready and it hasn’t been planned, but I don’t know if I have a choice. It may be now or never.
I take in a sharp breath, feeling a million different explanations and reasons bursting from the tip of my tongue. But just as I am about to lay everything out for them, my mom’s phone rings. She immediately answers after looking at the caller ID, making me lose my nerve.
“Yes, hi,” she speaks quietly into the phone, stepping away to the corner of the room. “I’m talking to her now.”
I groan to myself as I hear her talking to who I can only assume is Theo. They must have planned this whole conversation out. I can imagine her telling him it’d be better if they talked to me alone. Maybe I’d be easier to convince without him around.
“No, no. Don’t worry about it,” she whispers. “She’ll come around.”
I slump back into my chair and dramatically plop my head against the dining room table. Brendan shifts in his seat with a heavy sigh and I can picture the look of exhaustion that’s probably plastered on his face. He hates dealing with arguments between my mom and I. Probably because he’s so kind-hearted he can’t bring himself to pick sides. He loves us both too much.
For a moment, I wonder why Brendan can’t be the one with all the money. I’d be more than happy to accept his help and I know he’d be just as happy to give it. But I guess that guys like him rarely get rich. The Jamesons and guys like Theo climb to the top by stepping on everyone along the way. Brendan doesn’t have the heart or stomach for screwing people over just to make a fortune. I guess that’s the same kind of softness that Emmett’s family saw in him. And that’s exactly why they cut him off and kicked him out.
“You’re just like your mom,” Brendan grumbles with a smirk. “In a good way. You’re both so stubborn and independent.” I lift my head and look to him, feeling completely lost. “I know it’s not easy to accept help. Especially from someone you don’t like. I mean…hell, I don’t care much for Theo either.”