Incomplete

by Eliza Park

  I distracted myself by comparing Mr. Lockwood to his son. Maverick was a carbon copy of his dad except for the wavy blonde hair and easy going smile he’d inherited from his mother. They were both tightly wound, sharp square jaws ticking with annoyance at anyone who wasted their time. They even shared the anxious tapping of fingers against a table that I used to find so distracting. Now, I found it surprisingly comforting. When the police were in the room, Mr. Lockwood’s anxious ticks ceased and his expression remained easily controlled, though I could see the tight grip he had on his silver pen as I went back through my story.

  When Mr. Lockwood took me home at the end of that incredibly long day, he didn’t try to give me a hug, though I could see he wanted to. Instead, he kept his hands on the steering wheel and offered me a sincerely heartfelt apology.

  “I feel partly responsible for what happened, and I can’t begin to ask for your forgiveness. Know that if you want to stay with us, you’re always welcome and we will always be here for you, Celeste. Whatever you need.”

  Maverick had said something similar that morning. It’s all my fault. I should have been there. But it wasn’t true. He wasn’t my protector, my savior, my keeper. He was just the boy who lived next door and he deserved to go to a great school and be with great people who were like him.

  “Thank you, Mr. Lockwood,” I whispered, “For everything.” I offered him a weak smile with the remainder of the energy I had, slipped out of his car, and walked up the front steps to my own snowy castle, wrapping my coat around me. The house was silent when I closed the front door behind me, and I wasn’t surprised to know my parents were probably somewhere else. I trudged up the long staircase to my room, shoving in through the door, removing my shoes, and collapsing onto the bed. I took a deep breath and shut my eyes tightly against the dimming evening light. I’d been wanting to crawl into a dark hole and never emerge since October, and now I had the chance. My body was empty, devoid of all rational feeling and thought. I was a shell, a vessel with a name, but not a person. I felt like I should cry or sob, throw something in anger, but instead I just wanted to cease existing. I didn’t want to think or feel, I just wanted to be elsewhere. Suicide seemed like such a task, one that would require effort, and I had little to no energy for effort.

  Tomorrow, I decided. If I have the energy, tomorrow I’ll take my own life. But for now, I was going to sleep. Sleep and pretend it really was all a dream. None of it had happened and I was normal.

  What is crooked cannot be made straight, and what is lacking cannot be counted.

  Chapter 24

  Maverick

  My dad had walked through the door with a tired look in his wise blue eyes. My mom and I had been waiting anxiously on the couch in his study, trying to focus on anything but what we couldn’t control. Even our housekeeper, Evelyn, was anxious, constantly walking in to offer snacks and refreshment as I paced and ranted and dug my fingers into the stiff leather fabric. My mom was much calmer, but I could tell she was just as worried as I was. Celeste was family, and no one in this house could believe what had happened, what I’d let happen.

  Abel Lockwood held his hand up to us when he walked into the study. He looked more worn than I’d ever seen him, even after some of the biggest cases of his career. He fell back into the couch next to my mom, reaching out to take her hand. I was used to my parents being affectionate in front of me. My dad never failed to let me know just how much my mother meant to him, and it gave me hope for my own future, though at the moment, I didn’t want to think about what that entailed.

  He let out a long breath before speaking and I couldn’t help but stand in the center of the room, flexing and straightening my hands to try to remain calm. “I think I’m ready to retire.”

  Mom squeezed his hand and I waited.

  He looked at me then, a sad look on his face. Shit, it must be really fucking bad. “I’m going to do everything I can to help her, son, but it doesn’t look good. And you were right, we should have pushed to have her pulled from that school a long time ago.”

  “What, you don’t believe her?” I was fuming, hot rage pumping through my every vein.

  His gaze was steady, calm, “I believe her. Every word. A lot of the stuff she said couldn’t possibly be made up.”

  I swallowed, bile rising in my throat. I needed to know what he did to her. I needed specifics. And then, I needed revenge. “What did he do?” I growled out.

  Dad shook his head, “You know I can’t tell you. All I can say is that kid is a sociopath, and he needs to be removed from that school and put into prison for the rest of his life.”

  I closed my eyes, sitting on the mahogany leather chair by the fireplace, and rubbed my face with my hands. “I should have stayed. I knew I should have stayed.”

  “There’s nothing you could have done to prevent this, honey,” Mom said gently.

  I shook my head, feeling the burn of hot tears prick behind my eyes, “You don’t understand mom. He wouldn’t have dared to touch her if I was there. The fucker wouldn’t have tried.”

  For the first time, my parents didn’t scold me for cursing in their presence. Dad leaned forward, his warm blue gaze on mine, “Listen to me, Maverick, that kid would have found a way to hurt her whether you were there or not. And if not her, some other wealthy girl at that school who trusted him. I’m sure there were lots for him to choose from. He’s a rapist in sheep’s clothing, and only the law will stop it from happening again.”

  I stood up to leave the room, too furious to sit there any longer. The whole semester Celeste had been suffering and I’d been cock deep in another girl, going to parties with my teammates and focusing on football and school. “She’s home now?”

  Dad nodded, “You shouldn’t go over there, Maverick, I think she wants to be alone.” He was watching me carefully, “You should stay here a while, our luck as prosecutors is already dwindling with one surprise confession.”

  I tugged at my hair angrily, my teeth clenched together. I should have known he would find out what I did to James. “I left her alone for an entire semester, dad, and look what fucking happened!”

  “Maverick,” he said, his voice a deadly calm. He stood, placing a hand on my shoulder. I looked away, fighting back the anger that threatened to turn to tears. “This is not your fault.” He pulled me into him then and I didn’t resist, resting my head against his shoulder as the tears finally started flowing.

  It didn’t matter what my dad said, it would always be my fault. I would always be responsible. I had the power to control this situation and I did nothing. A final thought ripped through my mind as my mom came over to caress my back in slow, gentle, movements. Celeste would never forgive me.

  Chapter 25

  Celeste

  I opened my eyes to the sound of my mother’s voice and her weight pressing into the side of my bed. “Celeste, dear, wake up.”

  I turned my head to the side to look at her, too exhausted to actually move my body.

  “How are you feeling?” She asked, lifting a hand like she wanted to touch me before it fell, dejectedly, back to the bed.

  I looked away from her, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep.

  “Your father and I have decided to send you to a rehabilitation facility in California.” She said quietly. “We thought it would be best to help you recover from your apparent addiction to the medicine Dr. Rosenburg has been prescribing.” She sounded mildly disappointed, and I couldn’t blame her. I was disappointed in myself. “It’s a beautiful facility, right on the ocean. And you’ll have a roommate to talk to. When you’ve finished your detox, the director has agreed to let us send you some private tutors to finish out your school year. You can stay at the facility as long as it takes.”

  I assumed I should be reassured by this. Finishing out my school year in rehab, how chic. I wondered briefly where they’d send me after that. Another facility? Another private academy but this one for wayward girls, like an upscale juvenile detention c
enter? Somewhere remote and out of the way like Aruba?

  “You leave tomorrow, we’re having Elin pack all of your things.”

  I meant to say something, but I couldn’t find the words. Should I thank her? Blame her? Ask for a hug? Throughout all of this, I realized, the only one who’d physically bothered to connect with me had been Maverick. He hugged me when I left for the police station, and it had felt so good to have human contact that wasn’t malicious. I wondered if I should text him that I was leaving, but he probably already knew.

  She stood then, the small indentation from where she sat on my bed beginning to re-form. “There’s some food on the nightstand for you, Celeste. You should eat it, so you have energy for tomorrow.” And she was gone, her too-thin figure disappearing through my door. I lifted my head to look at the nightstand. Sure enough, a glass of water sat there with what looked like some sort of sandwich and a handful of fruit. Next to the glass of water were three pills of different colors. I didn’t recognize them, and I wondered if this was the proper dosage and variety, I was meant to take every day. I reached out a hand, clawed the pills off the table and tossed them into my dry mouth, washing them down with the glass of water.

  I let my eyes fall closed.

  Chapter 26

  Maverick

  I walked down the long hallway of the fourth-floor Senior boys’ dormitory, swinging a baseball bat from my fingers, and whistling La Marcha Real-the Spanish football soccer anthem. I hadn’t been inside the Academy since the Spring I graduated, but it hadn’t changed. A few of the seniors nodded at me in recognition as I walked by, and only one asked me what I was doing there. “Looking for an old friend,” I said, grinning maliciously from ear to ear.

  My dad was the best lawyer on the East Coast, but even he couldn’t find a way to put Elliott Ramirez away permanently. He was a minor still, for one, and the rape kit they’d put Celeste through came back with inconclusive results. Not to mention the bastard was on Swiss ground. If the Swiss Embassy decided to take him in, we might have a chance, but they’d most likely let him go.

  I wasn’t told Celeste was leaving for rehab until she was already gone. I’d texted a few of my crew: Logan, Noah, and of course, Brody, offered a free ride to another country and unlimited booze, then fueled up my dad’s jet for the long ride back to the Academy. I quickly discovered which room the asshole lived in and was on my way to pay him a quick visit.

  When I came to his room, I knocked on the door with my bat gently, just a few nice taps. My teammates flanked me on each side, facing the hallway. Their instructions were to remain outside the room until I returned and to keep anyone else from entering while I was there. They’d agreed without hesitation. Brody had been concerned the whole plane ride, but I was too angry and pumped full of adrenaline to explain and made a promise to give him my reasons on our way back.

  Brody spoke then, outside the door of Eli’s room, “You sure you want us to wait here?”

  I nodded, grinning, “Oh yeah, I got this.”

  The door opened and Eli’s roommate, another soccer player I never bothered to remember, stood before me, his dumb eyes wide. “Oh, Maverick, I thought you graduated?”

  “I did. Get out.”

  He had the nerve to hesitate, and I glanced at Noah. A giant, meaty paw reached out to grab the skinny kid by the shoulder and shove him into the hallway. Then I went in, shutting the door behind me.

  Eli was sitting on the edge of his bed, a book in his hands. That’s one of those things Celeste used to think was so unique about him. Always reading. He was surprised to see me, naturally, and when his eyes roamed to the bat swinging at my hips, that surprise turned directly into fear.

  “‘Sup, Ramirez?” I said, keeping the grin on my face.

  Eli stood, and I realized then that I’d grown enough to come to eye level with the bastard. This time I had the muscle, the baseball bat, and that fiery ball of rage I’d been nursing for a whole fucking year. “Hey, Maverick, what are you, uh, doing here?”

  I swung the bat around in my hand, enjoying the way his eyes followed the motion, and shrugged one shoulder. “Well, Ramirez. I’m here to settle a debt.”

  “What do you mean?” He was stuttering, nervous.

  I was enjoying this. “That’s what happens when you fuck with someone’s family, Ramirez. Celeste is my family. We grew up together, and one day she’s going to be my wife. What you did to her was vile.” I knew I probably looked and sounded insane because his face was petrified with fear. “Now, my dad should be reporting you to the Switzerland Embassy any second, but there isn’t enough evidence to convict you, and we can’t do shit about it until you land on US soil, so I was trying to think of a way to make you suffer just a little more.” I swung the bat around and he flinched. “It’s true your parents aren’t US Citizens, isn’t that right? They’re from where? Puerto Rico? It would suck if they had to return to their home country because of this.”

  His eyes grew wide, and I think he’d be angry if he wasn’t so afraid, “Whatever she told you is a lie,” He said, raising his hands in the air defensively. “Leave my family out of this, Lockwood.”

  I laughed, “I saw the marks, Ramirez. I saw the rape kit results. Your weak DNA was all over her. Be grateful you didn’t get her pregnant, because then you’d really be in some shit.” I was lying. The police hadn’t found any DNA on Celeste, but I saw the flash of fear in his eyes at the possibility.

  “Look, man, don’t do anything crazy all right? I’m sorry for what I did, I was desperate.”

  I looked him directly in the eye, lifted my bat, and swung it directly at his dark curled head. The impact of the wood against his cranium was sickening but satisfying. He went down, sprawling to the ground like the little coward he was. He held a hand up to his ear and tried scooting away from me. I stepped on his ankle and he yelped in pain like a captured rabbit. “I couldn’t decide what I wanted to do to you, to be honest. It’s really difficult to break the leg bones, so I figured I’d settle for tearing your ACL or I don’t know, maybe a spinal injury? Any ideas?”

  “You’re a fucking psychopath.” He said, his nose starting to bleed.

  I laughed, “Oh, Eli,” I said, leaning down, “Whatever happens here today, I’m still not as bad as you.”

  A while later I left the dorm room with the baseball bat hanging over my shoulder, blood on my knuckles, Eli’s wails dimming as I closed the door behind me. I nodded to my teammates and gave Eli’s roommate a wink, “Might want to call a nurse, looks like he may have fallen down or something.”

  His roommate rushed into the room behind me, and the team and I walked back down the hallway.

  When we were safely on the jet again, and I’d washed the crimson blood from my hands, smiling all the while, I sat back down in my seat and sighed. Brody was sitting across from me, a glass of what was probably scotch in his hand. “So, you gonna tell me what that was about?”

  I sighed, “Not my story to tell.”

  Brody’s jaw clenched tightly, and he set his glass down in the cup holder. “I’m surprised you left him alive.”

  I grinned. “Barely. He sure won’t be playing soccer anytime soon.”

  Noah and Logan joined us then, sitting in the seats across the aisle from us, “Damn, Mav, remind me never to get on your bad side.”

  I poured myself a small glass of scotch and leaned back in my chair, that feeling of rage finally quenched. At least for now. I was still angry with Celeste’s parents for not telling me she was leaving, but there was nothing I could do about it. Not now and not for another thirty days while she was locked in a facility in California. When we got back home my plan was to put together a package of information set to be delivered to her room the day she turned eighteen.

  I thanked my crew for coming with me, especially on such short notice.

  Logan shrugged, “We’re family now.”

  Noah held up his glass to toast, “For Jonah and Celeste.”

  I let the gl
ass clink against mine and stared into the dark liquid, unable to shake the feeling that both incidents had happened because of my own reckless behavior. If James had continued being quarterback, Jonah wouldn’t have been targeted. If I’d stayed at the Academy instead of going to Yale, Celeste wouldn’t have—. I tilted the glass back and let it wash down the back of my throat, enjoying the burn.

  I poured myself another glass and quietly vowed to make it right, no matter the cost.

  Chapter 27

  Celeste: Rehab

  Day One

  I had a roommate in rehab. Her name was Emily. She had chocolate brown hair and hazel eyes too wide for her round face. They were rimmed in black and smeared from the constant itching she did at her face and arms. She wore what we all wore, neutral-colored uniforms that only differed from a prison jumpsuit in how soft and overpriced the fabric was. She was an addict, like me, supposedly. Emily popped pills like they were tic-tacs and didn’t give a fuck what they were or where they came from.

  Her stepdad had found her on the floor of her bathroom, foam at her mouth, not breathing. That had been 10 months ago, and she was still here.

  “I hate it here,” I’d said to her on the first day.

  “You hate it now, you’ll love it later. I don’t want to leave.”

  I’d been happily drifting through the last few hours of a gray haze, enjoying it before the detoxification process started.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want to go home,” Emily responded, pulling at the loose fabric around her midsection.

  “I’m sorry,” I’d said, and fallen asleep.

  The next seventy-two hours were excruciating. I went through cycles of being too cold or too hot, the scratchy sheets on my bed either too much or too little. The clothes on my body felt heavy. I remembered screaming and feeling miserable, crying, and tearing at the too thick hair on my head. I slept a lot, fitfully, never long enough to dream, which I was grateful for. It was the second worst experience of my life and the only way I got through it was to tell myself that I’d rather go through detox a thousand more times than be sent back to Saint Bridgette’s.