by Jill Cooper
I push him away. “Please, stop. I’m not going to change my mind about Jackson. Or you. Or anything. So please, leave me alone.”
His scowl deepens with every sentence I utter. “You’re going to change your mind before the days are done, Amber.” He kisses my cheek, his lips lingering against my skin. His dark eyes are on me, and they are far more sinister than I expect.
Far more.
Days go by and I hope Martin will let go of this obsession he seems to have of us being a couple. He doesn’t. I find notes in my locker, and in our homeroom class, he moves his seat right behind mine. When I’m trying to study, I can feel him gently playing with my braid.
Trying to ignore him isn’t working, but I don’t know what else to do.
I haven’t told a soul what’s happened, and now I wish I had found the courage. At lunch, we all sit together—Jackson, Jenny, Carolyn, and Martin. He laughs like everything is fine, so laid back and charismatic, and I’m quiet. I pull back into myself because I don’t know what else to do. Jackson keeps me close, sliding his arm around me as if he senses something is wrong, but he doesn’t ask.
He never asks.
Jenny, though, always does. On the way to our locker toward the end of the day, she wears a studious expression. “You haven’t been yourself lately. What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. I’m good. Just this year is a lot of pressure. I have to start my college applications and essays soon. My parents have plans for where I’m supposed to go.”
Jenny nods. “Your family has high expectations. I guess they would, being the Chetwoods. They own half this town.”
“Prestige and legacy—that’s us.” I raise my eyebrows.
Jenny looks convinced, and I nearly fool myself into believing it. I try to keep the false narrative in my head, but when we step out into the courtyard and Martin crosses the field in front of us, I go rigid. He turns and smiles at us, holding up his fingers in a peace sign.
My breath is shallow, and Jenny stops in her tracks. “Is there something going on with you and Martin?”
I squeak and shake my head. “I’m just not feeling well. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to head home.” I race through the courtyard before Jenny has time to respond. I turn around the building toward the school parking lot, where Jackson will be waiting for me.
I don’t make it that far. A foul smell rips up from the school’s dumpster, and I grip the wall, bend over, and throw up. Everything with Martin is making me sick, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.
Chapter Seven: Amber 2003
A dinner party at the Sinclairs might be just the thing I need, but it’s the last place I want to go. I want to hole up in my room, hang out on MySpace, or post in my LiveJournal. I don’t want to socialize, even with Jackson, until I figure out this thing with Martin. But I go anyway because I don’t have much choice.
Unless I want to tell Jackson everything, and I don’t. What if he views me differently than he did before? What if he no longer finds me desirable?
I put on my little black dress with the cap sleeves and pair it with an elegant silver necklace. My auburn curls are loose around my shoulders, and I clip the sides back. There’s no denying that my reflection is beautiful, but my eyes are different. They don’t shimmer like they used to. I look serious. The fun has gone out of my face.
I walk down the front staircase of my family home and hear a giggle—the running of a child’s footsteps. I peer around, but there’s no child, and no one is giggling. When I ask my father if he heard anything, he only continues to put on his tie in the front foyer. He stands in front of the mirror.
“I haven’t heard anything. Only you, my lovely daughter.”
On the way to their estate, I sit in the back of the car alone. My parents will come along later—my father always likes to be fashionably late. Jacob, my driver, keeps angling the rear-view mirror to look at me. It makes me cold, and I rub my arms, force a smile, and do my best to keep everything as normal as possible.
“Everything all right, Ms. Chetwood? You don’t seem yourself.”
I wish people would stop saying that. I want to forget how much I’ve changed since that night. “I’m just thinking.”
He nods. “Usually you talk and are excitable about pretty much everything. I hope that if there was something wrong, you’d tell someone. Or me. You know, I am a very good listener.”
“I know.” I force a smile and gaze out the window. We’ve just passed the gates into the Sinclair estate. There’s a line of cars dropping off at the front steps, and I gather my black clutch in preparation. “I’m not feeling all that well, Jacob. I might summon for you early if that’s all right?”
“Oh, of course. I hope you feel better. Do you need a few Tylenol? I have some up here in the glove box for my headaches.”
I shake my head. “No. I, um, took some at home.”
The car stops, and my door is opened by a member of the Sinclair staff. I thank him and head up the pathway lined with perfect greenery. Up the stairs, Jackson waits by the door. When he sees me, his eyes light up, and he hurries to greet me through the crowd of guests moving past. It’s the only thing that makes me genuinely smile. I take his hand, and he gives mine a squeeze.
“You look so beautiful.” He kisses my cheek and holds me at arm’s length to take in the sight of me. It’s the sort of thing I always enjoyed, but now I feel cold.
“Thank you. You look great, too, in your tux.”
“Mother insisted. You know how she is when it comes to her little parties.” He tucks my hand against his elbow, and we climb the stairs into the mansion. Everyone who is someone in Bay Harbor is there, which means the Alistair family will be, too. If I’m lucky, Martin will have decided to skip, but I don’t count on it. He’ll use any excuse to see me, and while I used to thrive on the attention, things are different now.
So much more different.
Light music plays in the background, and appetizers are offered by the wait staff. I pass on everything, sick to my stomach with nerves. Jackson holds my hand close as we make our rounds. His parents, Penelope and Roger, wait to greet us in the giant foyer. He kisses my hand, and Penelope air kisses both of my cheeks. “Gorgeous as ever, dear Amber. You are so effortlessly beautiful—a quality Chetwood. Just like your mother.”
I smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Sinclair. I can only hope to be as beautiful and elegant as you someday.”
She smiles. “A real charmer, too. A match made in heaven with you two. I knew it from the moment you played together as children that we’d end up here.”
I blush, and Jackson steps in. “Mother, please. We’re still seniors in high school. There’s time for talk of marriage later.”
“Oh, what?” Penelope scoffs at her son but looks playful. “Like you don’t intend to marry someday? I see the way you look at her and all that time you spend together in your room—”
I blush. Does she really intend to imply Jackson and I are sleeping together under her roof?
“That’s enough, Penelope.” Roger takes my hand warmly. “Have a nice time tonight and forget about my controlling wife. I certainly would if I could.”
Jackson laughs politely, and Penelope scoffs with indignation, same as she always does—eyes wide open, mouth forming a circle. Nothing ever really changes, I realize, and everyone is happy to play their part.
We take this opportunity to slip away toward the sitting room. Jackson holds my hand. “She’s not entirely wrong. I would marry you today if I could. We’d have a grand life. I’d give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”
“Nothing would make me happier.” I stroke his cheek, and he pulls me in closer. I almost feel normal again, and I relish the feeling. “But maybe let’s get through college first.”
“And if I can’t wait that long?” Jackson’s nose is nearly against mine. He means to kiss me, so I pull him in closer. Our lips meet, and the world melts away. It’s just him and his str
ong arms wrapped around me as I fall deeper in love with him.
“Don’t you two ever take a break?”
Martin’s voice shocks me. I pull away from Jackson, and we both greet him. Jackson slaps him on the back, but I want to fade away into the draperies. Martin’s smile fades when he lays eyes on me. “We should get moving toward the dining room.” I tug on Jackson’s hand, desperate to get out of there, but he’s in no hurry.
“They’ll ring the bell when it’s time.”
“What’s your rush, Amber?” Martin asks.
“No rush.” I shrug and try to play it cool. I see my parents entering through the foyer and finally see my escape. “If you’ll excuse me.” I rush toward them. “Mom! Dad!”
“Hi, sweetheart.” Mom gazes around, looking for the champagne, no doubt. It’s her favorite. She’s in a pretty navy floor-length dress and is the picture of elegance. “Oh, Martin, hello.”
I stiffen and resist turning around. Instead, I hear Martin speak. “Mr. and Mrs. Chetwood, it’s a pleasure. Dinner is about to be served. Amber, I’ll escort you if it’s not too much trouble.”
It’s nothing but trouble, and I bristle as his hand slides around my forearm. He holds it close to him, and I have no choice but to allow it until my parents move away. “I’ll catch you in there,” I say, and when they move on, I shove him.
My eyes narrow sharply. “What the hell, Martin? Knock it off.”
He leans in close. “Or what? You’ll tell? You’ll make a stink? You’ll call the police? You know I haven’t done anything wrong. You begged for it all night. You wanted it. I just gave it to you. And now you’re treating me like garbage.”
That’s not what happened, and it’s not what I’m doing. I know that. I inhale sharply. “I just want to live my life. I just want to be with my friends and Jackson. I want to forget that you ever happened. Now leave me the hell alone!” I shove him and race away as the dinner bell gongs. I think it’s over.
But it’s not. It’s only beginning.
We sit and have tomato basil soup with cheese crusted croutons before the elegant roast vegetable salad with warm goat cheese is served. Two courses in, and I already feel like I’ve had more to eat than I’ve had in days. It doesn’t sit right in my stomach. I’m not sure how much longer I can sit here with Martin making eyes at me. I feel like a goat who knows she’s going to slaughter.
My stomach churns, and I sip some water slowly, hoping it will settle it, but it only seems to make it worse.
“You feeling all right?” Martin asks from across the table. “You’ve barely touched your meal.”
I place my crystal goblet back down. “Stop staring at me. Keep your eyes to yourself.”
“Amber,” Jackson says sharply, and his eyes narrow. I can feel others looking at us. “I’m sorry, Martin. That’s no way for—”
“For me to act?” I whisper. “Thanks for apologizing for me, but I’ve had enough.” Shock rolls across his face, and he pulls back. I immediately regret what I said. “Oh, Jackson…”
“I’m the one who’s had enough.” Martin pushes his chair back, and it squeaks across the floor. He throws his napkin down onto the table. “There’s something you need to know.”
My pulse races. “No, Martin—”
He continues on in a strong, angry voice. “That night at the bonfire, Jackson, your drunk girlfriend was all over me.”
“Stop it,” I grit my teeth and rise up from my seat.
From the look of malcontent in his eyes and the smirk on his face, it’s clear Martin is enjoying himself. “Fluttering her eyelashes, hanging on my arm. She was begging for it.”
Jackson’s jaw tenses, and I see the anger on his face. I tug on his arm. “It’s not true. Don’t listen to him. He’s as insane as the rest of his family.”
“She wanted it so bad, and I had no choice but to take her. No choice.”
People gasp, and someone drops a fork. I glance away from Jackson and see the horror on my parents’ face and on Penelope’s. She’s sitting with her hand in the air, and her mouth open wide.
“Is it true?” Jackson asks. I hear the heartbreak and betrayal in his voice.
But I can’t answer. I just shake my head. If I tell anyone that Martin raped me, no one will believe me now. They’ll just think I’m making up excuses because I got caught. Martin has me right where he wants me.
“It’s true,” Martin says and walks over to us. “And it was amazing. Your girl is a screamer.”
Father stands up quickly and bangs his knees on the table. “We are leaving. Now!”
Just then, Jackson winds up and decks Martin across the jaw. They return blows, and when I try to get between them, I’m knocked down. Groups of people stand and rush to separate the boys, and before I know it, Mother’s arm is around my shoulders. She looks sympathetic but cross. I realize nothing will ever be the same between any of us.
And I throw up on the floor, all over my favorite black dress.
Chapter Eight
Bay Harbor
Jessica: September 7th, 2020
“And she looked just like you?” Mom sits on the edge of my bed, her feet dangling off the edge.
“Just like me. Talk about unsettling.” From my closet, I pull out a blue mini dress and hold it up. “You think this makes me look like I’m trying too hard?”
Mom tilts her head as she considers the question. “Possibly. Pair it with your jean jacket and booties. Then you’re just adorable.”
Adorable—what every sixteen-year-old wants to hear. I put the dress back and pull out an even shorter pink one with a rhinestone bodice. “I’ll wear this one with the jacket. Thanks for the great idea.” I hang the dress up on the back of my jacket and flop down beside Mom on the bed.
I hold up my black booties with the bow and a pair of sling backs. “I think the sling backs are too serious. Make me seem like I want to hook up. What do you think?”
“Booties. Definitely the booties.” Mom’s wearing her nervous face. I thought the pink dress was a great idea, but maybe she doesn’t think so. I rub my finger against her hand. “I’m not really going to hook up with anyone, you know. It was a joke. Kids never do that anymore.”
I can barely hold a straight face.
Mom barely notices my joke. She blinks and then smiles wide to cover whatever it is she’s thinking. I start to think it might be Dad. “Of course! Did anyone tell you about this girl Amber? Who she was? Or how she…?”
“Died?” I sit up straight and tuck my legs underneath me. “She was homecoming queen and disappeared that night. Her car might’ve been missing, and her body was found against some rocks.”
I don’t tell Mom that the rocks are at the same country club I’m going to tonight—no reason to creep her out. Let’s face it, I’m already creeped out, but I really need this party. If I can’t be cool, I at least want a few friends.
“Wow. That’s a horrible story. Poor girl and her poor parents.”
“The whole community, really. My friend, Maxx, said the town never really recovered.”
“Oh, a friend?” Mom nudges her elbow into mine.
I grin. “One friend so far. Maxx is a girl. And, yes, I think maybe we’ll be friends. It’s still too soon to tell.” Have I always been this suspicious of people? Just one more thing my dad did to me. I’ve already turned into a cynic.
“That’s good.” Mom caresses my cheek. “I only ever want great things for you. If you want to borrow the car tonight, it’s all yours.”
“Thanks! How was your second day of work? You like it there?”
“I do! My boss, Roger, is really nice. Easy to work for and generous. I think it’s a good fit. I’m glad we’re here. I think it’s going to work out fine.” Her tone of voice edges up, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight. I don’t know why but I get the feeling Mom doesn’t believe it. What could she know about this town that I don’t?
Mom drops me off at the party in the end. I’m not read
y to navigate in the dark along the dangerous cliffs along the coast.
The Princeton Boat Harbor Country Club isn’t the most creative name I’ve ever heard, but it sure is long enough. The grounds are elegantly lit with a canopy of lights through the main brick walkways. I follow the signs that lead me to a stately, white building, guarded on either side by pillars made of marble. The French doors are open, and I peer inside.
Yup, it’s filled with teens. I’m in the right place.
“Nice to meet you. You’re the new girl, aren’t you?”
I turn to see a familiar face—the boy with the blond hair and tight curls on top. He has adorable dimples when he smiles, and a look of mischief dances in his eyes. Nicely dressed in a blazer paired with faded blue jeans, he holds two drinks.
I clear my throat. “I’m Jessica. And you are…?”
“Cameron.” He hands me one of the drinks in his hand. “It’s just punch. It’s probably not very good, but it’s wet.”
It’s a mixed berry. Watered down, but at least it’s not too sweet. “It’s not bad, actually. Thank you.”
“Welcome to Gregory.” We step inside, and Cameron leads the way. “If anyone gives you trouble, you come talk to me. Especially Ryan Alistair.”
“You don’t like him, huh?”
Cameron shrugs. “We’re friends. He’s okay enough. I guess you could say we’re rivals. He always gets the prettiest girls.” He raises his eyebrows and gives me a look that says it’s a compliment. Strange.
I raise an eyebrow. “You guys aren’t going to duel for my hand, I hope.” I sound way more confident than I actually feel.
“That would be the gentlemanly thing to do, which means, no. Probably more of a street fight. Though I might start with flowers and dinner,” Cameron says and slides a bit closer.
“I guess we’ll have to see about that.” I can feel myself flirting, and I smooth my hair over one shoulder.
