by Jill Cooper
His face sets smug. “And you only wanted to tell once Martin outed you the other night. Is that true?” Mr. Davis takes one look at me and sighs. He shakes his head. “Ms. Chetwood, lies are a serious business, as is the way we govern ourselves at Gregory Academy. This is the only warning you’ll get. Keep up these antics, and we’ll have no choice but to expel you from our fine institution.”
“Please,” I beg. “My family has always attended Gregory.” If I’m expelled, my parents will never forget what I’ve done. What I’ve caused.
“Pull yourself together, keep your head down, and stay away from both Jackson Sinclair and Martin Alistair, if you know what’s good for you.”
“Jackson?” Why is he throwing him into this?
Mr. Davis nods. “His parents are concerned about what you will do to his reputation. If colleagues of theirs realize what type of company he is keeping…”
“This is crazy. I’m the same Chetwood I was before. I’m no different than any other girl here. I wear my regulation uniform. I’ve never broken the rules. Now you’re treating me like I did something wrong, except I didn’t. You know me, Mr. Davis. You know who I am. Why—?”
“Just heed my warnings, Amber. Please.” He nods, and I realize the conversation is over.
I’m little more than a plague now. Martin’s gotten what he wanted, and now I fear there’s no place left for me here. Or anywhere inside of Bay Harbor.
No one is on my side. No one believes me, and I struggle with what to do next. Jenny can’t be with me every hour of the day. And no one will sit with me at lunch or at study hall. I keep to myself, but I’ve been turned into the senior year pariah. A parasite no one wishes to associate with.
I wait for Jackson at his locker, and he turns the other way when he sees me. I leave him messages on MySpace, on his phone, everywhere I can think of, and he ignores me. He wants nothing to do with me. He won’t even listen to me explain. How could someone who professed to want to marry me a few days ago treat me like this now?
It breaks my heart.
I don’t go out with friends after school anymore. Instead, I have Jacob pick me up and take me back home where my parents act like they barely know me. If they care about me at all, they never say. They rarely ask how I am. It’s all about what Mr. Davis thinks, and had I submitted my university applications yet. At this point, I’m too heartbroken to care about either. It’s like my life suddenly isn’t mine anymore, and I have no idea how close to home that sentiment is about to hit.
I walk through the parking lot, and a boy whistles as I walk past. I’ll be so grateful when this is over. The car waits for me in its usual spot, but Jackson is leaning against the hood. Is he waiting for me? What could he possibly have to say?
I think of turning around and going back inside, but it’d be a mistake. I swallow my fear and stop in front of him. “Hi,” I say and sound more together than I feel. I’ve never felt more lost.
“Hey,” Jackson takes his sunglasses off and looks at me. There’s heartbreak and grief on his face, and I’m sorry for it. I’m sorry he believes the worst of me. I’m sorry I thought we were it when clearly we weren’t.
“Is there a reason you’re leaning against my car?”
Jackson stands up straight. “I’m sorry. I… I never listened to your side. I was acting immature.”
I nod. “That’s for damn sure.”
“The last time I saw you at the bonfire, you were marching straight over to Martin. I saw you hug his arm. So when he said you guys had sex—”
“Hugging an arm is a far cry from sex, Jackson. You should know that. You should know I never lied to you before. You should have trusted me.” Hot tears burn my eyes. I don’t want to talk anymore. I don’t want to do anything other than go home and crawl into bed. If my world is going to continue to burn, I want no part in it.
“I’m sorry. My pride was wounded. My mother has been saying how unfit you are for me to associate with. My father—”
“Stop talking about what your parents want. What do you want? What do you believe?”
Jackson blinks back a tear. “I believe I’ve seen Martin do things. I’ve heard him laugh about girls. I should’ve known better. I’m sorry, Amber. If I could go back and do things differently…”
I take a shaking breath. “Do you know how hard this has been? To be ignored and isolated?”
With his head down, he mumbles. “If there’s a way you can forgive me, we can be together. We can try to fix this. I don’t know how, but I’m willing to try.”
“I’ve always loved you, Jackson. I just…you should’ve believed me. The fact you wouldn’t even talk or look at me, it broke me. You broke me.” I slide away from him and head toward the back of the car.
“Please,” Jackson pleads. “Give me a second chance. I promise I’ll never let you down again. Please.”
I open the back door. “I just don’t know. I don’t know what’s going to happen now. Please just…give me time.” I slip into the car and slam the door shut. I’m sobbing before the car drives forward.
“Amber! Let’s talk. Please!” Jackson chases after the car, and I pretend I can’t hear as his pleas carve a hole into my heart. Why couldn’t I just fling myself into his arms and say yes? It’s what I wanted, but everything I said was true.
He should’ve believed me. He should’ve cared. If I got back together with him now, how would I ever live with myself?
Chapter Eleven: Amber 2003
Days turn into a week. Life has settled back to a normal rhythm—or a new normal. Friends begin to talk to me again and the school bores of the melodrama they loved just a week ago. I’m no longer a complete social pariah, but it’s not the same. There’s a big party I’m not invited to. No one is dying to tell me the latest secret.
I stick with Jenny and avoid Martin the best I can, but he still lurks in the shadows. My phone rings in the middle of the night, and all I hear is the sound of someone breathing. I know it’s him. He won’t ever let this go, and I start to wonder what will happen. If we both live in Bay Harbor forever, how will I learn to forget?
Will he ever leave me alone?
Jackson and I begin to talk in school. In the afternoons we take walks. We sometimes even hold hands. It’s a start to finding our way back to one another, and it gives me hope that if we can do this, maybe other people will learn to relax and forget they dubbed me Slut of Bay Harbor. As if everyone in this town is sinless.
But I was the one who was wronged. Just no one will believe me. Not even my own parents.
I’ve given up expecting others to think the better of me. They’ve known me all my life, and now everyone’s turned on me. My family and my school. I don’t know what I expected out of life, but this isn’t it.
And that was my last Live Journal entry I made before my life changed again. I didn’t know it would happen. It was just happenstance.
Jackson and I stroll through my mother’s rose garden. We hold hands, and I walk closer to him. Our shoulders nearly rub against one another. We’re more comfortable with each other again, and it feels good, even if I can never completely relax again. Maybe he’ll never believe me the way I want him to.
Does he trust me? Does he think I’m smart and brave? Or am I just a pretty face to marry into the family?
When I look in his eyes, I see he loves me, and for now, that’s enough. It has to be.
“Homecoming dance is less than a month away. I was hoping you’d go with me?”
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “I was thinking of skipping the dance. I’m not sure I want to put myself through that.” Less than two weeks ago, I thought I was a shoo-in to win. Now, I’m not so sure.
Jackson sighs. “Please, Amber. Let’s go together. Let’s do this together. You can’t hide at home forever. You have to go out and hold your head up high. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He’s right. I gaze away at the brick shed in the backyard, noticing one of the old bricks h
as come dislodged. “You’re right. I’ll go with you, Jackson Sinclair. And I’d be honored to be your date. But first, I think we should go for ice cream.” I wiggle my eyebrows, and for the first time since my life exploded, Jackson swings me around and kisses me.
Maybe everything will be all right in the end.
We go for ice cream with our friends. Jenny and Carolyn both bring dates, and lucky for us, Martin is nowhere to be seen. I barely touch my ice cream because something about the mint chocolate chip turns my stomach. Strange, since it’s my favorite.
I sit on Jackson’s lap, and we laugh with our friends. Things feel great, and he takes me home after dark. We kiss on my front porch, and I wave as he drives off. I watch until the lights of his car turn the corner up past our gate. I turn back to my house, and something rustles in the bushes.
I pause, afraid someone might be there. “Hello?”
No answer, but I hear footsteps. I’m sure of it, and they are leading into the backyard. I’m afraid it might be Martin. I race up the front steps to the door when I hear a child laughing in the distance. But there are no children here. It’s too late for any kids to be around.
What was it I heard?
I walk around the side of the house, just past the old carport, and go into the yard. The grass brushes up against my ankles as I survey the yard. Nothing appears out of place, but my eyes are drawn to the old brick shed. There’s a bright glint against the broken bricks, and I head over. What is it about this shed that I can’t keep my eyes off?
Getting down on all fours, I peer at the broken brick and try to fix it, but it’s lodged under something pretty good. I can’t see anything but darkness. So I go in through the front. It’s dark inside, and I can only make out a ladder and a pile of gardening supplies. There’s a hose and my old gloves from when I was young.
But the light from the broken brick beckons me. I can smell strawberries in the dark, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end. I feel like I’m not alone. I hurry back to the door as a voice rings out clear and true.
“Help.”
I shriek and rush out of there before whoever said it has the chance to say it again. I hope it’s nothing more than a bad dream and promptly forget about it in the morning.
I head out early the next day to get a fitting for my dress. “I hope it still fits,” Mother remarks as she walks me to the door.
My mouth falls open, and I stare at her. “Are you implying I gained weight?”
“Well, you were depressed about Jackson. And a lot of snacks went missing. That’s all…”
I scowl. “The dress will fit just fine. And it’s gorgeous. Just wait until you see it.” I slam the door on the way out. My mother’s attitude right now is the last thing I need.
There’s a black car waiting just outside. I open the back door and am shocked to see Penelope Sinclair. “Get in,” she orders without even looking at me. Not feeling like I have a choice, I do what she says.
She’s dressed like she’s going to see the queen, couture as always, with elegant hair and the most perfect jewels around her neck. If I was going to be scared of anyone, it would be her. She doesn’t fix her gaze to me until after the car starts down the road.
“Jackson tells me you two are back on, despite my reservations. Despite all of my warnings, he won’t heed them. He is set to do what he wants, and I blame you for this sudden act of rebellion.”
“I guess you should.” I rub my hands on my knees. “I know you think I did something that will sully your name if I date your son, but I didn’t. Martin Alistair—”
“Raped you? I heard the tales.” Penelope laughs. “I know women, and you’re a very smart one. I won’t fall for your stories or crocodile tears, Amber. I can tell what type of woman spreads her legs for any man. I have you pegged. I won’t let you ruin my son or our family legacy with marriage. A child. None of it. You. Are. Out. Do you understand me?”
I can’t believe her audacity. “I can’t believe what you’re saying. Just a few weeks ago, you couldn’t wait to welcome me into the family one day. And now you’re saying I’m going to ruin you? You’ll forbid me from being with your son?”
“That’s not all I’m willing to do if you won’t leave us alone. I should’ve known not to expect more from a Chetwood.” Her eyes narrow severely.
“There’s nothing wrong with being a Chetwood.”
“It’s not much better than being an Alistair I’ll tell you that. You don’t know what your family has done over the years, but it doesn’t matter. What happens between you and my son stops now. Do you understand?”
I purse my lips together. “No. I make my own choices. Not you.”
“Pull over here, driver.” Penelope leans forward and grabs my hand. I try to yank it away, but she won’t let me. “If I can’t convince Jackson to leave you alone, I will convince you. Do you hear me? I will do whatever it takes so you better think quick, child, about what really matters to you. What you hold dear. Because if you don’t listen, I’ll take it all away. Until there’s nothing left of you.”
My blood turns to ice in my veins. I stare at her, unable to respond, wondering what it is that she knows. How could she possibly threaten me like that? A moment later, she smiles at me warmly as if nothing has transpired between us.
“Have a nice time picking up your dress. I do hope there’s time for you to make other date arrangements because it won’t be with my son. Not over my dead body.”
The car door opens from the other side by her driver, and I hurry out into the street. The day is bright and warm. The sun shines overhead, but I feel nothing but cold.
If Penelope Sinclair wants to destroy me, she absolutely can.
And she absolutely will.
Chapter Twelve
Jessica: Midnight, September 8th, 2020
“There you are,” Mom says as I walk through the door. She’s wearing her green robe, and it’s cinched tight around her waist. From how wet I feel and the puddle generating around my feet, I’m sure I look like a drowned rat. “I was about to send out the coast guard.”
“Yeah, I lost track of time. Sorry.” I shudder from the cold and slip my boots off.
“Go up and change into something dry. Then, if you want to tell me about the party…” She raises her eyebrows, and her heart is obviously set on hearing about my night. If I can get away without telling her about the Chetwood estate and Jackson Sinclair’s freak out, I’ll do it. Not much choice, considering I don’t want to be grounded until I turn twenty-one.
“I’ll be back. If I can maybe get some warm soup…” I turn on the angelic look that she can’t say no to.
“It’s almost midnight, but if you want soup…”
“And grilled cheese?” I place my hands together in a child’s prayer pose.
Mom scowls and points a finger at the stairs. “Get a move on.”
Oh, all right. “Well, it was worth a try.”
Up in my room, I quickly change into soft and cozy pajamas. I brush out my damp hair and settle on my bed. In front of me lies the rusted key—the old-fashioned kind you only see in creepy movies—and the manila envelope. I lay my hand on it, wondering what secrets it might answer. Obviously, I want to read it, but to open it feels like an invasion of privacy. Hallowed ground.
If I want to solve Amber’s murder, I need to read it and look for clues. Besides, I’m dying of curiosity in no small part due to those newspaper clippings I found. Something more had been going on in the Chetwood family, and it was something no one in town was talking about. Maybe that’s why they didn’t want people asking questions.
Nobody likes a snoop.
I open the envelope delicately as if it might turn to ash if I’m too rough. I slip out the papers and unfold them. There’s a group of letters tied together with twine and a series of photos. I glance at the group of photos of Amber and her friends. They’re relaxed, sitting on a stone wall near a beach. Amber sits close to Jackson, and their hands are intertwin
ed. There’s a group of boys and girls beside them.
One of the girls looks familiar, and they are all wearing big smiles. Happier times, I muse. I flip over the picture to find names scrawled on the back. It’s dated 2003, so it was the summer before homecoming. Looking at the photo, you couldn’t guess what was rushing up on Amber, and that’s the most heartbreaking thing of all. When bad things happen, they don’t come with a warning.
You wake up on the day you’ll be murdered, but don’t know it. You wake up one day and say bye to your dad and never realize he’s about to move out. He’s about to leave you without any explanation other than, “C’mon Jess, don’t be like that.”
But why the hell can’t I be like that? What gives adults the right to screw with us like that?
I blow out a deep breath and focus back on the photos. The names are listed: Amber, Jackson, Martin, Jenny, Carolyn.
Carolyn went on to marry Jackson one day, but who is this Jenny? Amber’s friend? Maybe a good friend?
I flip the photo back over and realize the girl looks familiar. She’d be around Jackson’s age now, and she definitely looks like someone I’ve seen. So where had I seen her? It had to be somewhere around town. I really want to talk to her.
My fingers tremble as I unfold the letter and quickly scan it—with a growing sense of guilt upon me. It’s a private letter, and I hope Amber can forgive me if she’s really around. The truth is, I want to know more about her. All I know is that she is dead. I don’t know how or why. I don’t know what she was like before.
And I desperately want to know.
My dearest Tessie,
I’m so sorry your friends and the town are treating you so badly. It wasn’t my intention to get you in trouble or take your parents away. But, I’m glad you’re finally willing to meet. I understand you want to keep it a secret, and that’s fine. I’ll do anything to help you out of your situation.
