St Mary's Academy Series Box Set 1

by Seven Steps

  I didn't want to believe it, but I could tell by the look on Joe's face that he knew she did.

  It felt like someone had just ripped my heart from my chest.

  "Who is the soldier?" I asked.

  "His name is Donovan Kendrick, born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana. He died in Afghanistan when he was twenty-two, September 22."

  "But he's not..."

  Joe shook his head. "He didn't have any children."

  "So, who am I?" I asked.

  "Your father, James Johnson, also lived in New Orleans, Louisiana. He's been in and out of jail his whole life. He was just released from jail last week for holding up a convenience store. He’s staying in a trailer park now. "

  "And how do you know all this?"

  He frowned deeply.

  "Don't hate me."

  "What? What did you do?"

  "Last night, I snuck into Quincey's room and took his phone. I texted Aunt Beatrice and asked her. She told me."

  "Joe. You didn't."

  "I erased the messages afterward, but—"

  "Joe."

  "Sophia, I'm so sorry. But you wanted to know so bad that I couldn't think of any other way."

  I scrambled up from the floor, desperate to get home.

  Aunt Beatrice and my mom didn't keep secrets from each other. If Aunt Beatrice thought something was up, even if that something was an odd conversation with Quincey, then she was sure to tell my mom about it.

  And my mom was excellent at connecting dots.

  What would she think? What would she do?

  I rushed to the door, but Joe grabbed me by the waist, hauling me back.

  "No, Sophia. Wait."

  "How could you do this? My mom is going to kill me!"

  "Sophia, please, I just—"

  "Get off me!" I screamed, punching and kicking him until he released me. Then, I turned around and glared at him.

  "Stay away from me. And my family."

  His face crumpled, but I didn't care. He had no right to do what he did. He crossed the line. Big time.

  I flung the door open and raced up the stairs. I needed to find a way to diffuse the situation before it got out of control.

  I burst through my door, not bothering to close it behind me.

  Mom was in the kitchen, hand on her forehead, eyes a mix of fury and sadness. When she saw me, she lifted her chin.

  "Beatrice, let me call you back."

  The phone in Mom's hand slowly dropped from her ear, coming to rest on the counter.

  "That was Aunt Beatrice," she said.

  I stayed in the kitchen doorway, keeping my eyes on Mom, not knowing what she would say or do next. Would she lash out at me? Would she scream at me?

  "She said she got some odd text from Quincey last night. When she texted Quincey about it this morning, he said he didn't remember texting her. Any idea what that could have been about?"

  I swallowed.

  "I took Quincey's phone," I blurted out. "I texted Aunt Beatrice."

  "Why?"

  "Because I wanted to know who my father was."

  "I told you who your father was."

  "No. You told me who you wanted my father to be. You never told me who my real daddy was."

  My brain blanked. My mind spewed out words without thinking about them.

  "Is that why he never signed my birth certificate? Because he was in jail?"

  She threw her hands up. "Sophia it doesn’t matter!"

  "It matters to me!” I screamed. “Tell me who Donovan Kendrick is!"

  Mom's brows shot up.

  "How do you know that name?"

  "He's the man in the picture, isn't he? The man in the uniform?"

  "Sophia, this conversation is over."

  "No. It’s not over. Tell me."

  "Who are you talking to like that?"

  "Mama, stop it. Stop the games. I'm old enough to know."

  She shook her head. "You're not."

  "I am. I'm sixteen years old. I'm not a child."

  "You are a child. You're my child. That's all that matters."

  "No. It’s not. I have two parents. Even if I only know who one of them is, I have two parents. And I want to know the other side of me."

  "No, Sophia. You don't know what you’re asking."

  "Then tell me."

  "Some things are better left in the past."

  "Says who? How come you get to know your past, but I don't get to know mine?"

  "Sophia, listen to me. You’re being hysterical. Just go on to bed and tomorrow—"

  "No, Mamma. Now tell me who my father is!"

  "Your father is a loser! He was a liar and a criminal who couldn’t keep himself out of jail if he tried. He didn't want me, and he definitely didn't want you. That's who your father is!"

  A fat tear rolled down my mother's face. I'd never seen her cry before. It was like watching Superman fall from the sky.

  "I loved Donovan Kendrick. Loved him. And he loved me. We were going to be a family when he came back from the war. But the time got longer and longer, and I was lonely. Then I met James. He seemed so sweet and kind, but it was a lie. All of it. Three months later I got pregnant, and I was terrified to tell my mother that her baby was carrying a baby. But she found out anyway, and she put me out. James took me in, fed me, clothed me. I thought I'd finally found the family I always wanted. But he never came to the hospital when I had you. By the time I got out, he was already in jail. Then I found out Donovan died, and I lost it. I just lost it.” She collapsed onto a nearby stool. “The love of my life was gone, my child's father was in jail, and I was alone. I got Donovan's photo from the obituary at the service. He should have been your father, not that lowlife. But I was young and stupid. I've been trying to keep you from making the same mistakes ever since."

  My head was spinning. "You were trying to protect me by lying to me my entire life?"

  "I didn't want you to end up how I did. I wanted you to think you came from somebody special. A good, righteous, and brave man who gave his life for this country, not some deadbeat."

  "I deserved to know."

  "No. You deserved better. I was trying to give you better." She wiped the tears from her face and stared at the refrigerator. "Every day I prayed to God to forgive me for what I did to Donovan. I prayed you'd end up better than I did. And I prayed that, if you did find out, you'd find it in your heart to forgive me."

  My body was hot with anger. I couldn't believe that my mother had lied to me for sixteen years. Even after I asked her, she lied.

  I glared at her so hard it felt like my eyes were going to pop out of my head.

  "But what you've done is unforgivable," I growled. A piece of me felt horrible for saying it, but the anger within me burned up the remorse.

  I'd been lied to by everyone in my life.

  And, right now, I just needed to be alone.

  I marched to my room and locked the door.

  Locking out Mom.

  Locking out her lies.

  Locking out the world.

  38

  I didn't go to school the next day. I didn't have the heart to face the world again. Not with what I had just seen and heard.

  What did it all mean? My father and my mother were liars. Maybe that's why I lied so much. Because I'd gotten it from my parents. And if my mom had me at sixteen, was that the reason I had so many boy troubles in my life? If Dad was a criminal, did that mean I was going to be a criminal too?

  I'd learned about nature vs. nurture in psychology class, but I never really understood it until now. Was I doomed to become a carbon copy of my parents, or did I make my own choices?

  I thought back to Donovan Kendrick rotting in his grave. What would my life have been like if he'd never gone off to war? Would he have married my mom? Would I be living in New Orleans still? Maybe they wouldn't have had any kids at all.

  Thoughts about how my life could have gone in a million different directions swallowed me until I couldn't take it
anymore. I opened my phone and started to scroll through. Even the painted lives of my friends on social media were easier to stomach than the questions in my head.

  I barely registered the pictures as I moved past them, occasionally stopping to slap a like on a funny meme.

  That is, until a familiar face showed up in my feed.

  Charlotte sat cross legged in the auditorium chair during what appeared to be play rehearsal. Next to her was Joe, smiling like an idiot into the camera.

  I threw my phone across the room.

  I hated him. And I hated Charlotte. I hated my mom and this room and everything in my entire life.

  I tossed the blanket over my head and stewed in my anger until I fell asleep.

  39

  I walked through the doors of Rose D’Onofrio’s party on Saturday night.

  I needed this. I needed to cut loose. Things had gotten weird in my life. Everything seemed so in flux. But one thing didn’t change.

  A good party.

  Rose has rented out a mansion in Brooklyn on Manhattan Beach. A beautiful three-story water front house complete with heated floors, a roof deck with a private bar and Jacuzzi, a theater room, sauna, and steam room. Rose was a brat with a billionaire father, but she sure knew how to pick a party venue.

  I plucked a glass of champagne from one of the waiters and downed it in one gulp.

  “Well, someone’s turning into a little alcoholic,” Purity said, taking tiny dainty sips from her champagne glass.

  “It’s been a rough week,” I replied.

  “Seems it.”

  “I just, I’m having—”

  “Guy trouble?” She raised one eyebrow and one side of her mouth lifted in a half grin.

  Guy trouble. Family trouble. Did it matter? I didn’t feel like explaining all my issues to Purity just then, so I just nodded.

  “Wow, that was fast. You’ve only sworn off guys for a month and a half.”

  “We haven’t kissed.”

  “The question isn’t if you haven’t kissed,” Purity said. “It’s if you wanted to kiss.”

  I frowned and snatched another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

  “You do, don’t you? Oh, you’re entirely too predictable.”

  “You’re heartless.”

  “No. I’m just holding you accountable.”

  “Not what I need right now.”

  “No, that’s exactly what you need.” She took another dainty sip, and I could practically feel a lecture coming. “You know why you have so much guy troubles?”

  “Don’t want to hear it.”

  “Because you are looking for them to validate you. To pat you on the head and fix all your problems.”

  “You’re making me sound pathetic.”

  “No, I’m telling you the truth. You can’t rely on a guy to give you the things you should be giving yourself.”

  “Purity, please stop.”

  “Like love. Confidence. You have to get those for yourself first and then—”

  I slammed my drink down on a nearby table. “God, don’t you ever shut up?”

  Then I stormed away, partially because I felt guilty for snapping at her and partially because I felt super guilty for snapping at her.

  Was Purity right? Was I searching for love from guys because I didn’t feel it for myself?

  No. No, that was definitely not true. I loved myself. I had confidence.

  And tonight, I was going to show her.

  Blue Persia was performing here tonight. Without me, of course.

  Cole and Bella were belting out “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now” by Celine Dion to each other.

  They were so adorable.

  I hated adorable right now.

  I walked out into the middle of the dance floor, by myself, and started to slow dance. But not before grabbing another glass of champagne.

  When the DJ took over, and the music picked up, I danced even harder, not bothering to acknowledge the guys who danced next to me. Ariel and Jasmine found me, and the three of us let the music lead us deeper and deeper away from our problems. At least I was.

  And with every changing song, I found that my glass was again full, and I was again tipping it back.

  I drank and drank until I felt the music deep in my gut. I sang with it as loud as I wanted. I took off my heels and tossed them away, enjoying the feel of the floor beneath my feet.

  This DJ was a magician, pulling me deeper and deeper until all I could feel and see was the music.

  When Jasmine and Ariel tried to pull me from the dance floor, I pushed them away, downing the last of my champagne, then waving it in the air for a refill.

  My body felt like a thousand lightning bugs were glowing around me.

  I was light.

  I was free.

  In the middle of my concert of one, someone picked me up and threw me over their shoulder. But my blurred vision couldn’t make out who it was.

  “Let me down!” I screamed.

  They said something, but I couldn’t hear. The music was still blaring in my ears.

  “Put me down!” I kicked my feet and pounded on their back, trying to release myself. Trying to get back to the dance floor. That’s when my stomach began to roll. Violently.

  “Let me down. I’m gonna puke!” I screamed to the upside-down world.

  A small hiccup threatened to turn into something much worse. Then, I was put onto a cold floor, bent over a toilet.

  Just in time for hot vomit to shoot up my throat.

  “Get me a water bottle,” someone screamed. I couldn’t be sure who it was. I was too busy puking my guts out. “And a wet washcloth.”

  “Here’s a hair tie.”

  “Can you find her shoes and her purse?”

  I tried to sit up. Tried to protest, but someone was holding me over the toilet by my hair.

  “I’m not leaving!” I tried to scream. But it came out as a garbled, vomit filled burp.

  I guess my gut wasn’t done with me yet.

  “Why did you let her drink so much?”

  “I wasn’t paying attention. I assumed she was drinking out of the same glass.”

  “Oh God, it stinks.”

  Finally, when my stomach felt hollow and my throat felt sore, I pushed back against the hand holding me and sat on my haunches. Before I could say anything, a wet rag was wiping at my face. I let it go for a minute then pushed it away.

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re drunk. How are we going to sneak you back into your house now?”

  “I said I’m fine!” I pushed up off the toilet and took a shaky step back, looking at the people surrounding me. Bella, Ariel, Purity, and Jasmine.

  Bella took a step forward. “Come on, Soph. Let’s take you home.”

  “I’m not going home.”

  “The party is over,” Ariel said.

  I hated the sense of finality in her voice.

  “I am not a child!” I screamed. “You can’t tell me when to leave!”

  “When you’re drunk and letting guys grind up on you like that, I can.”

  “No, you can’t. I’m not leaving.”

  I turned and stormed to the door.

  “Sophia.”

  “I said leave me alone!”

  I ran from the bathroom and pushed my way through the dancing crowd.

  I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I had to get away.

  I had to get away from their judging eyes and piercing stares.

  They all thought I was broken. A glass figurine ready to shatter. But I wasn’t. I was strong. Bulletproof.

  I found myself in a driveway packed with cars and made a left, heading toward the back of the house. But that was filled with people standing around the pool. I found a set of stairs and walked up to the rooftop lounge. People clogged there too. It seemed like they were everywhere.

  Why was it so crowded? I needed to get away. I needed to be alone for a while.

  I walked back down the s
tairs, around the building, and down the long driveway. I didn’t know where I was heading. I just knew I had to get away.

  I’d made it a few yards when a red jeep pulled alongside me.

  “Need a ride?”

  Joe’s voice sent waves of chills down my spine. But I stiffened my back against them. He’d betrayed my trust. And he was probably here with Charlotte anyway.

  Stupid Joe. Stupid Charlotte.

  “Go away.”

  The car pulled to a stop, and he hopped out, walking alongside me.

  “I said go away!”

  “I am. I’m going this way.”

  “You’re not funny.”

  “Well, maybe when you sober up, I will be.”

  I growled and pushed his arm. “God, I don’t need you judging me too.”

  “Whoa there, Jelly Roll. I’m not judging anybody. I’m just a country boy moseying along.”

  “I don’t need you here.”

  “Well, I doubt that. What if there are bears or mountain lions or saber tooth tigers? Who’s going to throw themselves in front of you so you don’t get eaten?”

  “I don’t need you to protect me.”

  “Fine. Then I’ll throw you in front of them. At least one of us should get away.”

  I stopped and scowled at him.

  “Why don’t you go find another girl to harass?”

  “Why, when it’s so much fun harassing you?”

  “Joe.”

  I crossed my feet and tipped to the side. Losing my balance, my body headed to the floor, but before I hit, Joe was there.

  “Whoa there, Nelly.” He stood me upright, not letting go until I’d regained my balance.

  I crossed my arms, trying to keep myself together.

  “Why am I so broken?” I whispered. Tears fell onto my chest. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. “My dad’s gone. All the boys at school think I’m a slut. My friends treat me like I’m a china doll. And you, you probably think I’m such a loser. That’s why you wouldn’t kiss me, isn’t it? Because I’m just some dumb loser who happens to be your best friend’s cousin?”

  His jaw grew tight.

  “I didn’t kiss you because you deserve to be with someone who can be with you.”