by Rebel Hart
The campus is lined with massive, old trees, and I can already imagine how beautiful they must look in the Spring with fresh green blossoms or in the Fall with gold and red leaves. I watch students shuffle by, bundled up in scarves with bags and arms full of books. My heart leaps with anticipation. Whether it’s here or another school, soon I’ll be starting a whole new life. One that is hopefully more normal than the nightmare I’ve found at WJ Prep.
The stark difference I see between here and my school is solidified as I get so caught up in taking in the sights that I accidentally bump into a tall guy walking in the opposite direction down the sidewalk. I expect him to go off on me, but he simply apologizes with a big smile and carries on his way. The Elites have traumatized me to the point that I’ve forgotten there’s a whole world outside of Jameson without a circle of a select few who think they are so much more entitled to the air they breathe and the ground they walk on than everyone else. It will be a hard thing to get used to once I’m gone for good, but I’m more than ready for the change.
I made sure to arrive early for the interview. I know Coach called in some favors to get this lined up and I want to make sure I don’t let him down. There are a few other students anxiously waiting in the sitting area as I make my way in. The floors and walls are deep mahogany wood with a flawless shine. The upholstery and drapes are deep jewel tones of green and burgundy, and the walls are lined with cases and frames of trophies and black and white photos.
The excitement in my chest builds as I catch glimpses of the shrines to their Olympian alumni. I notice one of the bronze medal winners smiling out from their photo. I’ve read that runner’s stats and mine are pretty on par with how they did in high school. I feel a rise of giddiness at the thought that one day, that could be me.
The possibilities only make me more nervous, but at least I know I’m not the only one. There’s a cluster of students sitting nearby who are plotting their interviews. They discuss questions they assume we can expect to be asked along with rumors they’ve heard about interview sessions that have happened before.
We’re each clutching onto folders of important documents in our sweaty hands. The goal of the interview is to be able to extend a scholarship offer along with our acceptance letter. Demographics and place of birth make a difference in those things, so along with the interview, there’s a round of paperwork and document checks that has to be done. The list of what to bring was lengthy and a little ridiculous, but I assume part of the goal was to test us on following instructions. They can immediately rule out less than ideal candidates that aren’t responsible enough to follow the directions and gather everything that’s asked of them.
I flip through my papers, double-checking everything, as one of the other people waiting spouts off the list of required items. Suddenly, a sinking feeling jolts through me. The other people mention a birth certificate, which I know I remember seeing on the list. More than seeing it, I know I remember getting a copy of mine and putting it into my folder. Yet somehow as I flip through it now, it’s nowhere in sight.
My eyes dart to the clock as another person is called in for their interview. Judging by the time, I am likely the next one to be called, giving me less than half an hour or so to figure out what the hell has happened to my birth certificate. I can’t stand the thought of blowing this over something so small and simple after what Coach has done to set it up. He’s done so much for me, and the last thing I want to do is disappoint him. I look back to the Olympian’s photo on the wall and wonder if they would have forgotten something so important.
But I didn’t forget. I know I didn’t. I look around the floor surrounding my seat and retrace my footsteps through the room. I dig through my backpack and check the folder three more times. Still no sight of it. The others sitting nearby start to whisper as they watch me search. They can see the panic on my face and know I’ve shown up without something. Their mouths twist into poorly hidden satisfied grins. This just knocks another competitor off the list for them.
Finally, one of the other girls comes over and tries to help me search. A gesture that never would have happened back in Jameson where the Elites keep everyone at each other’s throats.
“Is there anyone nearby who might have a copy?” the girl suggests as we continue looking with no luck. “Did your mom come with you?”
“No,” I sigh, breaking into an awful sweat. “I know we put a copy of it in there. I don’t know what could have happened to it.”
“It’s not here,” she confirms grimly. “Well…what about your car!?”
“Good idea,” I shoot back nervously, checking the clock again. “I’ll hurry but if they call me, will you tell them I’ll be right back?”
“Of course,” she nods, but I am already racing out the door to the parking lot.
Times like these are when it comes in handy to be a trained runner. I break into a full sprint across the pavement until finally my car is in sight. I don’t even have to unlock the doors to know my birth certificate isn’t inside. I can see the empty seats and floorboards plain as day. But I open it up and search anyway.
I’m huffing and panting for breath as I frantically search everything one last time, partly from my run over here but mostly from panic. It’s still nowhere in sight as I flail my head back against my car seat, feeling dangerously close to bursting into tears. I tell myself I will just have to march back in there and own up to my mistake, hoping and praying that I can somehow charm them enough so that it doesn’t matter. But I know there will be some other star athlete with excellent grades who will march in there with everything they were asked to bring. It’s game over for me.
Just as I’m starting to give up, I hear the faint blow of a boat whistle from the distant shore, sparking an idea. My dad lives near here. A fact that crossed my mind more than once on the drive up here, but I kept pushing it down, telling myself it didn’t matter. Although now it could matter quite a bit. His house can’t be more than five minutes from here.
I hesitate to reach for my phone, but quickly snap myself out of it. There’s no time to have an emotional crisis over this. It’s as simple as he’s the only person within a few miles who could possibly have a copy of my birth certificate, and even that’s a stretch. It’s highly unlikely that he’ll answer the phone, have what I need, and be available to get it here in the next ten minutes. But I have to try.
My heart pounds relentlessly as the phone rings, and I’m not sure if it’s because of my urgent predicament or my nerves over talking to him again. Not just talking to him but asking for his help. Something I’ve always been convinced I would never, ever do.
Chapter Four
BOOK 3
By some miracle, not only did Theo answer the phone, he had a copy of my birth certificate on hand and was able to show up with it just in time. I was in such a rush by the time he arrived that it barely phased me to see him again and accept his help. I took the document and raced back inside, barely stepping foot into the waiting area just as my name was being called. I saw the girl who had been helping me with her lips parted, ready to defend my tardiness. But I was able to breeze right past her and into the interview on time.
I was so flustered and relieved by the time I sat down that I didn’t have time to be nervous about the questions being thrown my way. The essay in my application cited my mom and stepdad as my inspirations in life, being the only people in my corner to set an example and help me along the way. I felt a slight tinge of shame as I backed up the sentiment in my answers, knowing it was Theo that helped me out today. But I quickly remembered everything he’s put me through up until now and swallowed down any feelings of guilt.
I walk out of the interview feeling like I did my best, reliving the sight of the panel’s pleased and impressed expressions. I’m more than ready to get into my car and go home and forget about all the pressure until the next one of these interviews pops up, when I will bring five copies of my birth certificate just to be safe.
�
��Ophelia!” Theo’s voice calls out from behind me just as I unlock my car doors.
I cringe and slowly turn around to see him running towards me. “Oh,” I huff. “You’re still here.”
“How’d it go in there?” he pants as he shuffles over.
“Fine,” I answer curtly, wishing he had just left after he handed the copy over to me.
“Thatta’ girl!” he smiles, stopping just a few feet away. “Where you rushing off to now?”
“Home,” I shoot back, having to hold back a groan. Why does he care where I’m rushing off to? Aside from when his vowed vengeance against the Elites wasn’t on the line, he never once cared about where I was before. Why now?
“Ah,” he nods, looking slightly wounded. “Well, listen. While you’re here…why don’t we grab some lunch? Ice cream? I want to celebrate!”
“There’s nothing to celebrate,” I grumble. “It’s not like I got in. It was just an interview.”
“You’ll get in,” he announces confidently. “Whether it’s here or somewhere else, I know you’ll have your pick of the best schools. I looked you up, you know. Saw the articles about your races and things from your last school. And some of your competitions with WJ Prep. You have quite an impressive record.”
I stare at him blankly, feeling a twist in my gut at the thought of him researching me. I’m convinced his only real reason to do so would be for some ulterior motive. It was likely just so he could track me down and use me as a pawn in his battle against the Elites. One that he would just as soon throw out the moment I didn’t serve him anymore.
“Thanks,” I respond half-heartedly. “But I really should get back. Mom will be waiting.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand if you stay a little longer to catch up with me,” he insists. “She’s hoping you and I will get to know each other a little better.”
I’m frozen as he stares expectantly. I want to get away from him as fast as possible, but he is right about my mom’s high hopes for me to give him a chance. Maybe to relieve her guilt about him being my biological father. But her innocent optimism only makes me angrier.
“You’re right. She has a lot of hopes for you being back in our lives,” I bark. “But only because she doesn’t know the whole story.”
He recoils with a pitiful little grimace. “I deserve that,” he offers. “And anything else you could say to me. I know…I wasn’t around and then when I did show back up…It wasn’t exactly under the best circumstances.”
I laugh scornfully, thinking back on the split second I had to look him over for the first time when he showed up on the doorstep of Jameson manor just as I was running for my life. No sooner than I recognized his crooked smile he pulled up a gun and shot Thomas Jameson to death. Not to save my life, but to finish his own little wicked game of vengeance against the Elites.
“I may not be everything you hoped I would be,” he continues.
“I didn’t hope for anything about you at all!” I cut him off. “You weren’t around, and I was prepared for it to stay that way. I figured if you cared about me at all, you would have never let so much time pass without finding me. Brendan has been around since I was ten and has been more of a father than you ever were. I’m glad things turned out the way they did.” My voice cracks in exasperation as I rant, prompting me to turn back towards my car and pull the handle to get in. I refuse to let him see me get emotional.
“It’s not so simple,” he says quickly, stepping closer to keep me from leaving. “Didn’t she ever tell you?” His brows raise. “I did try to see you, Ophelia. I may not be perfect, but I was prepared to be around for you. Everything that happened between your mom and I…it was too much. And still too painful for her when I tried to see you as a baby. She was afraid and I can’t blame her.”
I start to argue but stop myself. I can’t imagine my mom refusing to let Theo see me without at least mentioning his attempts when I got older. Even if a parent is absent, knowing whether or not they tried makes a big difference in a young girl’s life. But anger boils in my gut as I consider why she would be afraid to let him see me. He beat her. Of course, she was afraid of him.
Theo did think my mom had cheated on him, but it turns out that was just another stab from the Elites trying to put him in his place after he squandered so much of their money. Regardless, his reaction was inexcusable. Emmett may be fucked-up and I don’t doubt that he would beat up the other dude in a heartbeat if I ever cheated on him, but he’d never lay a finger on me...right?
That thought catches in my throat as I remember all the times Emmett has harmed me, threatened me, and a long list of other offenses. He claims he had no choice under the pressure from his father and the other Elites. I quickly remind myself that they seem to have a knack for making good people do horrible things.
“Why do you think your mom is so insistent on us having a relationship now?” Theo says. “She feels guilty, I think, for shutting me out all those years before. She made a choice that should have been yours.”
My inner conflict over Emmett has my guard down as he speaks, and I can feel his guilt trip taking hold. I look down at the envelope of documents in my bag. Deciding who is good or bad or what did or didn’t happen is too much to process on the spot like this. But for now, Theo did save my ass at the last minute. The least I can do is have a quick lunch with the man.
“Fine,” I groan. “I’ll come with you. But not for too long. I want to get home before it starts getting dark.”
He lights up before motioning for me to follow him back to his car. I can’t help but feel paranoid that something terrible could come out of me being so trusting and riding off with him. I can’t forget everything I do know about Theo. No matter what he says, if it were in his best interests to kill me, he’d do it in a heartbeat. And with people like him, there’s always some larger game at play that I don’t know the details of.
Things seem normal enough aside from the awkward silence as he drives me to a diner towards the center of town. I slowly start to relax, telling myself that this will be over before I know it. It’s like Brendan’s yearly family dinners with his senile grandparents. They’re inconvenient and seem like a waste of time, but they go by fast and make everyone else really happy. I just have to grit my teeth and smile and get through this.
“I love this place,” he says as he opens the front door for me.
A bell chimes as we step inside and a waitress greets him by name. He leads me to a corner booth, citing it as his usual spot. It’s crazy to think he’s been so close long enough to have a regular hangout spot with a preferred seat. It breaks into my resolve, making me wonder if he really has been trying to keep an eye on me all these years. Is that why he ended up so close to Jameson?
“Order a milkshake,” he tells me as I look over the menu. “Doesn’t matter what flavor you pick; it’ll be the best one you ever have.”
“The usual today, Theo?” the waitress chimes as she pulls a pen and pad from her apron. “And who’s this young lady!?” Her eyes light up across me.
“This is my daughter, Ophelia,” he beams. “She just had an interview over at the university. She runs track and is hoping to get a scholarship.”
“Ophelia!” she sings back with wide eyes. “It’s so good to see you here! I’ve heard so much about you!”
I’m too stunned to do anything but stare up at her wildly, blinking in shock. She takes our order and vanishes off into the rush behind the counter, and I can’t help but notice the pleased look on Theo’s face. I’m not sure if he’s genuinely proud to show me off, or if he just knows I’ve been proven wrong in some small way.
“Did you pay her to say that?” I quip, only half-joking. I’m convinced Theo doesn’t care enough to have ever mentioned me to anyone.
“How’s Emmett?” he asks, ignoring my jab. “I heard about the Hendersons taking over the company. He got gypped.”
“I’d think you’d know how he’s doing,” I remark bitterly. “I thought you t
wo were good buddies. I know you have a tendency to meet up behind my back.”
“Don’t hold that against the boy,” he grunts, looking annoyed that we even have to talk about it. “You two weren’t even an item yet. He was just a poor kid in a fucked-up situation and so were you. He helped you in the only way he knew how.”
“And who were you helping?” I sneer, fidgeting a plastic straw between my fingers. He sighs and lays his hands flat across the table, looking lost. It may be a ploy, but it works. I start to feel bad for holding onto my grudge so tightly and have to remember that isn’t the point of this lunch. Laying into him will only make it worse for me. I know he doesn’t have the answers or explanations I’m looking for, so it’s better just to let it go. At least for now.
“But you’re right,” I add, trying to swallow down my frustrations. “He did get gypped. It’s a shame he made the sacrifices he did and still got everything taken from him. He would have done amazing things with Jameson Automobiles. He was going to make it a legit, honest company.” I stop myself from adding that that’s more than Theo could ever dream of doing with anything in his life.
He nods and looks away. I see his wheels turning, likely over some new scheme. He never stops looking for some new way to get rich or take advantage of a situation. But he’s interrupted by the arrival of our food. I do my best to participate in tense small talk as we chew through our burgers and fries.
“You were right,” I concede as I sip the thick milkshake through my straw. “This is a really good shake.”
“I told you!” he laughs proudly, as if he had made it himself. “Just think. If you get into that school, you’ll be able to come here and have these all the time! Maybe we could even make it a regular thing.”
