by Ivy Smoak
For a few minutes we just sat there holding each other in silence. It always felt like he took away some of my pain when he held me. I hoped I was doing the same for him.
“I can’t stand the thought of you hating me,” he said into my hair. “I can’t lose you too.”
It didn’t matter how mad I was. I loved him. I loved him so much that it hurt. That’s why I was hurting right now. That’s why he was hurting. I didn’t want to cause him any more pain. “Of course I don’t hate you, Matt. I just didn’t very much like you for a couple days there.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. He didn’t have to apologize. I got it. I really did. He was scared of losing someone else. Maybe he was projecting his fears of suicide onto James. Maybe he wasn’t. But either way, I could see his fears becoming reality. And I would never do something to jeopardize James’ health.
“Can you tell me about your aunt?” I asked. And then my stomach growled embarrassingly loud. I laughed because I didn’t know what else to do.
He leaned back with a smile on his face. But I saw it now. The sadness in his eyes. How had I not seen it before?
“I don’t even know if you’re going to remember any of this tomorrow,” he said. “But yeah, I’d like that.” His smile grew. “You have the munchies, though, so let me go grab us some food from downstairs and then I’ll tell you all about her.”
I moved off his lap and watched him leave. And I tried not to think about the fact that he knew where the kitchen was because of his visits with Isabella. Or the fact that I might forget all of this in the morning. I touched the side of my head. Stupid Cupcake.
I shook away the thought. Our fight from a few minutes ago had changed everything. Matt had lost someone too. He was just like me. I didn’t feel nearly as alone anymore. And at least I understood now why he couldn’t just come clean. But I was very aware of the fact that nothing had really changed. He hadn’t told me what Isabella was blackmailing him for. And I’d still be a secret.
Chapter 16
Saturday
It was hard to picture Matt as a little kid. He was just so big and intimidating now. I couldn’t imagine him small. But I’m sure his hair was just as golden back then. And his smile was probably equally contagious. He was smiling now, reminiscing about moments with his aunt from when he was younger. They used to paint together. I had the same reaction to the idea of his hands being little and holding a delicate brush. They seemed much too big to hold a paintbrush. But they were probably a lot smaller back then.
“Do you miss that?” I asked.
“Spending time with her or painting?”
I stared into his eyes. “Both.”
He nodded. “Both,” he agreed.
“You could still paint, you know. Maybe it’ll make you feel closer to her?” Like how I felt close to my mom when I looked at the stars on the fire escape. Or saw the color yellow. Or wore the sneakers she gave me. I swallowed down the lump in my throat.
He reached out and pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “I don’t have that much free time.”
Because of football practice? Because of me? Because of worrying about James? He didn’t offer an explanation. And I didn’t know if I should push anymore. He’d already told me his fears. He’d told me a secret he was keeping. He was finally letting me in. “She sounded like a wonderful person.”
“I didn’t even know she was depressed. How self-consumed was I that I never noticed?”
“It’s not your fault, Matt.”
“I should have seen it.”
“You’re just a teenager. It wasn’t your job to see it. Or fix it.” I saw the irony in my words. Because James was a teenager. And if his closest friends didn’t see his behavior as worrisome, who else was going to take the time to? The way Rob had described their parents was chilling. All James had were his friends. And his girlfriend, but his parents were pressuring him to break up with her. I didn’t know what to say.
We were stretched out on my bed. Close, but not touching except for our intertwined fingers. I wanted to pull him in closer, but I wasn’t sure if he was still mad at me. The empty Pringles can Matt had pilfered from downstairs was lying between us, like an impenetrable wall. And thinking about Pringles made me hungry all over again. I was never going to eat pot sugarcakes again. Focus. “What are we going to do about James?”
“You’re going to forget I said anything. And let me handle it.”
“But…there has to be something I can do to help. Or maybe if we can figure out a way to get Isabella to stop blackmailing you? What happened to the private investigator you hired?”
“He didn’t find anything. I’m pretty sure she got to him and paid him off.”
“She paid off a PI that was hired to find dirt on her?” What kind of tangled mess was Matt caught in?
The door to my bedroom flew open and Matt and I both sat up.
Mr. Pruitt was standing there with a frown on his face. He cleared his throat.
Matt practically fell out of the bed as he moved away from me. His hair was sticking up funny in the back and I’m sure I looked equally unpresentable.
“Matthew, could you please give me a moment alone with my daughter?” Mr. Pruitt’s voice was even icier than usual.
Matt smoothed his shirt as he stood up, just making the scene look even worse. We’d barely touched, let alone whatever it looked like now. “We were only talking,” Matt said.
“Mhm. Downstairs. Now.”
Matt turned around, giving me a reassuring smile. “I swear we didn’t do anything. But I’ll wait downstairs so she can tell you herself.” He walked past Mr. Pruitt.
I busied myself sweeping some of the crumbs from my bedspread back into the Pringles can and looking anywhere but at him.
“There are rules in this house,” Mr. Pruitt said as he made his way over to me. Before I could climb off the bed, he sat down on it next to me. “Each designed to make sure you’re behaving like the lady you now need to be.”
The lady that I wasn’t? I think normally I’d be offended by the comment. But instead I wanted to laugh. I bit down on the inside of my lip to prevent myself from even smiling. I was definitely still high. And I had a feeling that was probably against one of Mr. Pruitt’s rules.
“We follow a very strict no-processed foods diet, for starters.” He lifted the Pringles can out of my hand.
“I don’t usually eat like that either.” Only when Cupcake drugs me.
“Good, good.” He tossed it into the trash, landing a perfect shot.
“Nice!” I said. Every ounce of me wanted to lift my hand for a high-five, but it was better not to risk it. Instead, I slid my hands underneath my legs to keep them still.
A small smile spread across his face.
God, he knows I’m high.
“I used to play basketball in my youth.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. He was smiling from the compliment on his shot. Not the fact that he was about to call me out on my drug usage. “It shows,” I said. “You played in high school?”
He laced his fingers together. “You’re just like your sister when you’re in trouble. Trying to change the topic to anything but your conduct.”
I swore I threw up a little in my mouth at the comparison.
“Another rule is that you are not under any circumstances allowed to have gentleman suitors in your room.”
Who talks like that?
“Unless they’ve asked me for your hand, of course. But clearly you’re too young for such talk. So…no boys upstairs.”
I nodded. “No boys in my room. Got it.”
“Are you two being sexually responsible?”
I made a choking sound and he stared over at me as I gasped for air. “No.”
He lowered his eyebrows. “Brooklyn, it’s very important that you’re responsible when it comes to protection and…”
“No! I mean…no, we aren’t doing that. But I’d be safe if we were.” Who was he to
tell me about safe sex? I was literally a walking example of why he wasn’t a reliable source. It was hilarious that he thought he could tell me any of this. Don’t laugh. Brooklyn, don’t you dare laugh.
He nodded. “All your tests came back clean. A clean bill of health is better kept than tainted. A sexually transmitted disease could jeopardize your health.”
“I’m not having sex.” My voice came out squeaky and high-pitched.
He cleared his throat. “Do you have any questions about sexual relations? Or the aforementioned diseases?”
This isn’t happening. It was like the awkward conversation with my uncle about condoms. Only worse because I didn’t even know this man. And at least my uncle didn’t use weird big words when talking about STDs. “My mom already taught me about the birds and the bees. The public school system covered that topic pretty thoroughly too. And I’ve had this conversation with my uncle. I’m all up to date, I promise.”
“Very well.” He stood up and brushed off his pants like sitting on my bedspread had been a dirty thing. “But there probably are a few more options for you in regards to birth control now that you’re living with me. You can get on the pill, or there’s even a shot. Please come to me first before you put anything like that into your system though. We’ll want to take a thorough read-through of all the side effects, yes?”
“Sure.” Did anyone ever read those things? They were pages long.
“And I’d be happy to accompany you to any such appointments to discuss these things with Dr. Wilson.”
This conversation was so invasive even for a normal father, let alone one I just met. “Sure,” I said again, even though I wouldn’t be going to any such appointment. Especially with him or Dr. Wilson.
“Will Matthew be joining us for dinner?” The air of concern about my sexual activity had vanished. Mr. Pruitt seemed to be in a good mood.
“Oh. I don’t know. I didn’t ask him.”
“I’ll extend the invitation. How about you freshen up and meet us downstairs in the dining room?”
I nodded.
He disappeared as quickly as he’d come.
What the hell was that? I buried my face in my hands. I didn’t know whether to be mortified or pissed or just plain confused. The last option won by a landslide. Mr. Pruitt was so weird. He went from terse to overly caring in two seconds flat. Why did he even think I was having sex? Matt had clearly been dressed. Matt. I couldn’t leave him down there alone with Mr. Pruitt. That would just be asking for trouble. I didn’t want to walk in on them talking about sex either.
I ran toward my door but then remembered that Mr. Pruitt had basically told me I needed time to freshen up. When I reached the bathroom I was horrified to see my hair in a tangled mess. No wonder he thought we were banging.
I grabbed a brush that was lying there and pulled it through the mess. My hair detangled in one stroke. Huh. I looked down at the brush. It must have been some magic, rich person brush. I put it down gently, afraid that I might break it. And then I went to go save Matt from what was surely an awkward conversation.
But when I walked into the dining room, it was only Matt sitting there.
“Hey,” I said. “Where’s Mr. Pruitt?”
“He said he needed a few minutes in his office. But that we could start without him. You want me to stay, right?”
“Of course.” I sat down next to him at the table, avoiding the chairs Mrs. Pruitt and Isabella had sat at the other night. “If it was up to me, you’d never leave.” I opened my mouth to say something else, but one of the staff members I hadn’t met yet bustled in carrying a tray of salads.
She didn’t question the unannounced guest, the absence of Mr. Pruitt, or the fact that Mrs. Pruitt and Isabella were missing.
“Thank you,” I said when she placed a bowl down in front of me. “This looks great.”
She seemed surprised that I was talking to her. “You’re welcome, miss.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t meet you the other day on my tour. I’m Brooklyn. What’s your name?”
She glanced at Matt nervously. “Tiffany,” she said. Her skin was so pale that I thought she might faint. But then I thought that maybe she was just never allowed to leave the apartment. Like me. Besides, the rest of her looked healthy enough. She couldn’t be much older than me, and her mousey brown hair was shining and I wondered if she had one of those magical hairbrushes too. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said.
Tiffany smiled, but it faltered when there was a noise from somewhere in the hall. It almost sounded like the heat had just kicked on, even though it wasn’t quite chilly enough for it. She scurried away as quickly as she had come.
“Why does everyone always look so shocked when I talk to them?” Justin had acted the same way earlier. I shoved a huge forkful of lettuce in my mouth.
Matt laughed.
I looked up at him and tried to swallow my food as fast as I could.
“You don’t see it, do you?” he asked.
“See what?” It took every ounce of restraint I had not to shovel more food into my mouth. I was so freaking hungry.
“They react that way because people usually ignore them. And you…you’re so nice. And kind. And sincere. It’s refreshing.”
I felt my cheeks blush.
“And beautiful,” he added.
I laughed. “I don’t think that’s why they’re shocked when I talk to them.”
“I was shocked when you talked to me.”
“No you weren’t.” But I was smiling so hard that my objection didn’t sound like much of one at all. He thought I was beautiful. He was acting like he was the lucky one in this relationship, not me. “Are we still…I know I said I wanted to break up, but…”
“Are you asking me out, Brooklyn?”
“Yes?”
He smiled. “As far as I’m concerned, we never broke up.” He reached out and grabbed my hand. “And I don’t care about what happened with Felix. I deserved it for not sticking up for you.”
“Nothing happened.” Minus the fact that I’d told him I loved him. But I was freaking high. I had no idea what I wanted. Except Matt. I knew I wanted him back. I squeezed his hand. “But nothing has really changed. You still won’t be able to stick up for me in public.”
“What if we have a secret code?”
“A code?”
“So that you’ll know I’m on your side even if I can’t say anything.”
“I’m not sure that will really help.”
“Or a signal so I know to help get you out of a situation?”
It should have been pretty clear when I needed help. But maybe a signal would assist him. And it would allow us to communicate without anyone knowing. “What about sticking out our tongues?”
He laughed. “People will think we’re sick. How about you bite your lip.”
“Like this?” I bit my bottom lip and I swore he groaned.
“Yeah. Like that.” He did the same and I realized why he groaned.
Something about the way his teeth dug into his lip made me wish he was doing it to me. My lips. My skin. Anything. He could bite me anywhere he wanted. “You don’t think it’s too suggestive?”
He smiled. “You might be right. How about we rub the tip of our nose with our index finger?”
“That works for me.”
Matt ran his thumb along my palm, sending shivers down my spine. His touch was a lot better than a signal. But the signal would have to do in public.
“Stop the hand holding for a moment,” Mr. Pruitt said as he walked into the room with a huge pile of papers.
I pulled my hand out of Matt’s and stared at the papers as Mr. Pruitt plopped two stacks down in front of me. So the noise that scared Tiffany away earlier wasn’t the heat coming on. It was the printer whirring to life. “What are these?”
Mr. Pruitt snapped his fingers and Tiffany rushed out with his salad. “These,” he said as he placed his napkin on his lap, “are a relationship agreement for the two of
you. As well as the list of rules for the household for you, Brooklyn. Matt already signed the guest rules years ago. But I’ll need his signature on the relationship agreement. And your signature on both of them.”
“A relationship agreement?” Why did Mr. Pruitt have any say in my relationships?
“The two of you are in a relationship, are you not?” Mr. Pruitt asked and started to eat his salad.
Matt looked at me and then back at the document. He looked so uncomfortable.
What could we possibly say here? Mr. Pruitt had already seen us together. He might let something slip to Isabella. Signing a freaking document seemed like a bad idea. And I knew Matt loved me. I didn’t need his signature on some kind of weird relationship document. “Actually, Matt and I are taking it slow. We’d rather not let anyone know about our relationship just yet.”
Mr. Pruitt wiped at the corner of his mouth. “Is that true?” he asked and turned his head to Matt. “You’d rather keep your relationship a secret?”
Matt looked up from the document. “We’re just not ready to share it yet.” Something about the way he said it made me sad. I was ready to share it.
“Are you embarrassed about dating someone from the wrong side of the tracks?” Mr. Pruitt asked.
“No. That’s not…”
“Brooklyn is a Pruitt now. And I expect you to treat her like a Pruitt. Sign the papers or you can leave.”
I didn’t even know if Mr. Pruitt realized he was standing up for me. It was all I tried to say on Friday when Matt and I broke up. I just wanted Matt to acknowledge that I wasn’t invisible at school. But none of this was his fault. I don’t know if it was Kennedy’s pep-talk about being brave, or the weed in my system, but I was suddenly tired of all the secrets. “Matt and I have to be a secret because Isabella is blackmailing him.”
“Brooklyn…” Matt started, but I kept talking.
“She’s trying to make both of our lives a living hell.”
Mr. Pruitt nodded like he wasn’t at all surprised by my words. But his eyes were focused on Matt. “And what is she blackmailing you over?”
