Boys That Read: A High School Romance

by Rosewood, Betti

  My lips formed a thin line and I glared at the three of them before muttering, "Of course not."

  "Good," papa said, for once not questioning me. "You know what would happen if you did, don't you, Estella?" I uncrossed my legs and stared at my plate uncomfortably. "I asked you a question, mija."

  "You would stop supporting me," I whispered. "And you'd cut me off. And I wouldn't be allowed to go to Wildwood, or Eastvale."

  "Exactly," papa nodded. "Unlike your selfish sister, who has the misfortune of being my firstborn, so I have to support her no matter what, apparently."

  "Papa!" I cried out as Romilly's fork clattered to the table. "Don't go there, please."

  "Are you telling me what to do?" he asked, glaring at me first, then my sister. "Romilly, any updates from you? Have you found your path back home, or are you still a lost little lamb?"

  "Ricardo," mama begged. "Please, not tonight."

  "I just want an honest answer out of at least one of you," papa said. "I know you're all liars, but at least the two of you haven't whored yourselves out yet."

  "I'm not a whore," Romilly got out through gritted teeth. "Just because I'm not religious - crazy-fucking-religious - doesn't mean I'm a bad person."

  "You'll answer for that to God," papa told her. "But you answer to me for everything else, at least while I'm paying your bills."

  Romilly swallowed, glaring at him from across the table. "I'm pretty much done with this now."

  "You're not leaving," papa said calmly. "We're going to finish this dinner like a family.”

  "I've had enough of your bullshit." Romi threw her napkin on the table, pushing her chair back. "And enough of this fucking farce."

  "Sit back down," papa commanded in a quiet voice. I knew this meant trouble. He always went scary-calm before he totally flipped. "Finish your dinner."

  "No, I don't think I will," my sister spat out. "I think I'm just about done."

  "I didn't get into Eastvale," I chirped suddenly. Everyone stood still. It was a moment frozen in time, and I closed my eyes tightly, wishing I hadn't said anything. But now it was out in the open. No more lying, no more running. I kept my eyes closed as I went on. "I found out a few days ago. Milo Earnshaw got in, not me. They only accept one student from Wildwood."

  "They accepted Crispin Dalton and Tinsley Sullivan last year," papa said.

  "It was a one-off," I managed. "I mean, they're fucking celebrities."

  His fist came down on the table, rattling the cutlery and making us all jump. "Unacceptable, Estella. Completely, utterly unacceptable."

  My eyes filled with tears. I felt so alone, so humiliated. "I know," I whispered. "I swear I tried my hardest. I have no idea what happened. You know I worked on that essay night and day."

  "It's not enough," papa told me icily. "Obviously. It's. Not. Enough." I didn't dare look at him. This was possibly the angriest I'd ever seen him, and I'd seen him pretty damn mad before. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he went on. "Obviously, you're grounded. And we're going to have a long conversation about the way you've been presenting yourself. Now go to your room and wait for me there."

  The skin on the back of my neck prickled and I nodded, holding my breath as I got up.

  "Wait." Romilly spoke up, and I silently willed her to stop, knowing that this could only get worse from here on out. "It's not her fault she didn't get in! You should be comforting her, not making her feel like crap for this." She came to stand next to me, pulling me into her embrace, but my body was stiff against hers. "You're treating her horrible. She's freaking seventeen, papa! Nobody deserves this."

  I wanted to sob against her, but I forced myself to hold it all back, otherwise I knew I'd be in even more trouble.

  "Don't get in the middle of this," papa said, motioning for mama to take her out. "Estella, your room. Now. Unless you want them both to see this."

  I didn't need to be told twice. Rushing out of the dining hall, I took the stairs two at a time until I reached my bedroom. My whole body trembled as I heard his heavy footfalls behind me. The door closed with an ominous creak, and I turned around to face papa, crying. "Papa, I'm so sorry I-"

  The hit came out of nowhere. The first time he'd hit me. I'd feared it for most of my life, and now it was finally here, the memory of it permanently engrained onto my mind and meaning I'd never trust a man again.

  "Papa!" I cried out, a heavy sob forcing its way out of my chest.

  "Shut up," he growled at me, rubbing his palm while I stumbled back. "I don't want to hear another word out of you. "You're grounded until I say otherwise. If I catch you sneaking out, a beating that you've been practically begging for will be the least of your problems." My teeth chattered and I watched him retreat, feeling sick to my stomach. "Oh, and another thing." He lingered with his hand on the door handle. "You're not allowed to wear makeup for the foreseeable future."

  He closed the door calmly, and a part of me wished he'd slammed them. At least then I would've known he was taking his anger out on an inanimate object as opposed to a family member.

  I crumpled into a ball at the foot of my bed. I was still shaking all over, and I had to crawl to the spot beneath my floorboards. Continuously glancing at the door to make sure he wasn't watching; I pried the board from the floor and took my secret phone from the hidden compartment. I placed it next to me as I sat in front of my vanity, examining the glowing red spot on my cheek. Then, I picked up the powder compact on the white surface, and carefully covered the throbbing skin in foundation. I had a feeling papa wouldn’t object to me using that kind of makeup. It was to save his ass, anyway.

  There. Nobody will ever be able to tell now. I stared at my perfect reflection in the mirror as I heard the screaming floating up from downstairs. I touched my fingertips to my already bruising face, feeling the heat emanating from below. And I told myself I'd gotten off lucky.

  At least he wasn't as awful with me as he was with mama.

  * * *

  Lying in my bed, I flipped over to my stomach as I went through the saved numbers on my old phone. My fingertips hesitated over Pandora's number. I'd never once tried calling her since she'd disappeared years ago. I hit the call button.

  Before the first ring went through, I'd ended the call. I groaned, rubbing my makeup-free eyes and flopping on my back. The chandelier on my ceiling glistened in the darkness. I'm lonely, I realized with a start. Nobody knows me anymore. I even pushed Tinsley away…

  Once again, I picked up my phone, my fingers typing a new message.

  Hey babe. Ugh, my dad grounded me again :( Do you wanna sneak in through the window?

  I anxiously awaited his reply, my heart beating so fast I thought it would go right through my chest. Please write back. Please write back right now. My phone remained silent, and I sighed before putting on some music on my laptop. A soft, chill sound filled my bedroom and I swayed my hips to the sound of music. Just then, my phone started ringing. I jumped back to it, grabbing it in impatient hands and blanching when I saw the caller ID flashing across the screen.

  Pandora Amberly.

  I disconnected the call, feeling bile rise in my throat. A moment later, the reply to my text message arrived.

  Sorry, I don't wanna risk my life in case I run into your dad... LOL

  I rolled my eyes, my bottom lip quivering as I typed another text and fired it off. I forced myself not to think about the Pandora situation. Surely I’d just imagined her calling back.

  Something bad happened.

  I waited for less than a minute before the answer came.

  What happened?

  Can you come over? I texted back.

  Yeah. Will someone let me in?

  I worried my bottom lip between my teeth, writing back, Tell them it's about Eastvale or something.

  I grabbed a fluffy fuchsia robe from the rack in my pink marble bathroom, wrapping myself up in the comforting fabric. I was in no way dressed for visitors in my makeup-free face, wild hair
and a pore-strip on my nose, but I didn't care. I needed something, someone. I needed to remember that I wasn't alone in the world. And there was only one person who'd ever made me feel like I belonged.

  It took him about thirty minutes before I heard the doorbell. I prepared for the worst, half-convinced papa would punch him too, but I heard Milo's voice and papa's laughter a moment later. And then came the knock on the door, after which it opened without waiting for my reply. I'd barely had time to push my replacement phone under the pillows.

  "Estella," papa said, motioning to the door. "Your friend Milo is here with some information about the college you're going to."

  "I didn't get in, papa," I mumbled.

  "Well, according to Milo, all of that might change." Papa said, his face emotionless. "I'll let you two discuss this. Milo, please leave in twenty-five minutes."

  "Of course, Sir," Milo grinned, stepping inside my room and pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I'll make sure to be quick."

  "Thank you." Papa clapped him on the back. "The world needs more young men like you, Milo Earnshaw."

  He walked away, and Milo glanced over his shoulder, waiting for him to leave before coming toward me. I nodded, motioning with my head for him to follow me to the sitting area in my room.

  "Are you okay?" he asked the moment we sat down on the pink loveseat. "Did you tell them you didn't get in?"

  "Yeah," I muttered, and the first tear rolled down my cheek. I stared at my hands in my lap, hating myself for being so weak in front of him. I swore to myself that this lone tear would be the last one Milo Earnshaw saw.

  "Oh, Stells," he muttered, awkwardly patting me on the back. "I'm so sorry. They didn't take it well?"

  "No," I shook my head, sniffing and forcing myself to stay true to the oath I'd made to myself. "Not very well at all."

  "Did you try Natan?" he asked softly, and I looked up at him, anger flashing in my eyes.

  "I did. He wouldn't come."

  "Before or after me?" he demanded, and I blanched under his scrutinous gaze. "I see. Maybe I should get going. Since I wasn’t even your first choice."

  He got up, but I stood up to stop him, my fingers wrapping in his blazer. "Don't go."

  "You're crying." He reached up, wiping the tear from my eye, and I couldn't help but wince when he did, a tremor of something I didn't yet understand traveling to the pit of my stomach. "Why did you wince?"

  "I didn't."

  "You did." He was glaring, forcing me to sit back down. He examined his hand. "Why are you wearing makeup if you have that nose sticker on?"

  "Don't." My voice was shaky, and I hoped he wouldn't probe further.

  He reached toward me again, and I raised my hands as if to stop him from hitting me. Firmly, his thumb and pointer finger wrapped around my wrist, and he touched his free hand to my cheek again, gently as possible. Still, it made me flinch as he rubbed my skin.

  "Jesus fucking Christ."

  "Shhh." I shot him a pleading look. "Don't say that so loudly."

  "Did your dad do this?" I looked away, too guilty to answer. "I'm going to fucking kill him."

  "Don't," I begged. "You're the only one of my friends he doesn't hate. I need your help with this."

  "You need to go to the police," he muttered. "Or I'm going to carry you the hell out of here tied up if I have to."

  "I can't yet. He... he could hurt mama if I tried."

  "Fuck." He paced the room, running his hands through his dark hair while I glanced nervously at the door.

  "Look, Milo, we don't have much time."

  "What do you need me to do?" He couldn't even look at my bruising face.

  "Just keep quiet about this until I figure something out," I said. "I'll go see my grandma tomorrow. Maybe she knows something that could help me… get away from him. You can come with me."

  "Okay." That made him smile. "I miss her."

  "She misses you too." I sighed. "I don't see her as often as I should."

  "Stells, when..." He looked so worried. "When did your dad start doing this? Hurting you?"

  I looked down at my lap again. "Like this? Today was the first time. The other way? A while ago."

  "Why didn't you tell anyone?" he asked.

  "I... couldn't. "What did you tell them about Eastvale?"

  He stared at me, his eyebrows knitting together. "I told them I'm giving up my spot. For you."

  "Jesus," I muttered. "That's crazy, Milo. How the hell do you think they're gonna take it when they realize it's a blatant lie?"

  "It's not." He glared at me intensely. "I'll give it up. For you."

  "Why?" I stared at him in disbelief. "It's everything we've ever wanted."

  "Yeah. But together," he reminded me, and my stomach twisted. “I didn’t want to battle you for the spot.

  “You know they only take one person per year.”

  “So?” He shrugged. “Crispin and Tinsley got in together.”

  "You should go," I whispered.

  "I will." He got up, staring at me. "Think it over. And two more things.”

  "Yeah?" I bit my lip in expectation.

  "You look really pretty like this," he mumbled.

  "What?"

  "Pretty. You. No makeup. You look like the girl I used to know."

  I blushed and prayed to God my bruise cover-up was working on my other burning cheek, too. "Thanks."

  "I'll see you at school." He looked like he was about to lean in for a hug but changed his mind at the last minute. "Oh, the other thing. Princess. If I ever find out he hit you again, I'm going to hurt him real bad. Do you promise to tell me if he does?"

  His stare was so intense I found myself nodding without wanting to. "O-Okay."

  "Good girl." The words gave me flutters in my chest. "See you."

  He left the room, smiling wide at Mabel who was passing my door. She glared at me, holding onto the handle. "Bedtime, Miss Estella."

  "Good night," I whispered in a daze. "See you later, Checkmate.”

  9

  Date: September 8th, 2019, 10 a.m.

  Location: Estella’s house

  Estella

  It didn't take much convincing for papa to let me go visit abuelita. I even managed to convince him that Milo should take me. I thought papa seemed a little apologetic about the previous night, but so far, he hadn't said sorry or mentioned what happened once. My father called Milo himself, arranging for my friend to pick me up at 10 a.m. That morning, Milo arrived on the dot, painting a smile on my father's strict face.

  They shook hands as I hurried out of the house, carrying my handbag and a bouquet of flowers I'd picked from our garden. There was a peony bush in the backyard that came from abuelita's property in Mexico. It was pretty much the only thing we'd kept since papa had changed our last name.

  "Ah, here she is now," papa said as I arrived to the driveway. "Make sure you have her back for lunch, Milo. Absolutely no detours allowed, as I said. I want her home on time. I'll see you later."

  I ground my teeth together, hating the fact that he talked about me as if I weren't there at all. But I didn't say anything, just swallowed my pride and got in the car next to Milo, who offered a friendly smile to my father before honking twice, and pulling out of the driveway. A mellow song was playing on the radio as we started driving to our destination, but neither of us said a word.

  "We'll be there in about an hour," Milo told me as he pulled on the highway. "I doubt we'll have time to make another stop. The way there and back will be two hours at least, and that's without any complications. And we have maybe an hour or two there."

  "Okay." My voice was soft as I examined my pastel pink nails. "Thanks for doing this, by the way."

  "No problem at all."

  "You didn't have to," I muttered without looking up.

  "Huh?"

  "I said you didn't have to drive me. I could've gotten our chauffeur to take me."

  "Well, I didn't want you to do that," he replied firml
y. "Besides, I haven't seen your abuelita in years. Not since she lived with you guys. How long has she been living at Maple Woods now?"

  "Probably five years," I mumbled. "I think Pandora was still around when she left."

  He nodded, putting the radio on louder. I wasn't sure whether to interpret his move as him wanting me to shut up, but he spoke up himself. "I hope she still remembers me. How old is she now?" "Seventy-two," I laughed. "And I'm sure she will. She has a great memory."

  "Why is she in the home?"

  I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, why doesn't she live with you?"

  "It was papa's decision."

  "And none of you argued with him about it?"

  "No." I gritted my teeth together. "I think we both know how well that would have gone."

  He reached to me, squeezing my hand as he muttered, "You're right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned it. Ignore me."

  I wish I could ignore you, I thought miserably. But there's something about you that makes me feel dizzy and like I need so much more than you're willing to give me.

  We drove in silence for a while until the city surrounding us turned sandier and sandier, and the sea appeared on our left. I smiled to myself. I'd always loved the drive to Maple Woods. I didn't go there nearly enough - not because I didn't want to, but because papa told us abuelita was too tired to deal with us every weekend. It was a change I was still adjusting to since my grandmother had lived in the same house as we did since I was a baby. I missed her, and I was grateful for the opportunity to see her again.

  "Your bruise still hurt?"

  I touched my fingertips to the swollen flesh beneath my eye. "Not so bad now."

  "Have you told anyone else about what happened?" he asked.

  "No."

  "Not even Natan?"

  I bit my bottom lip, shaking my head no. "I... I couldn't."

  "I understand." I willed for him to reach for my hand again, but he didn't. "I haven't told anyone either, but that's going to change if I ever see him hurt you again."