by Rebel Hart
“Do you have anything you’d like to say to me?” Theo asks, looking like a kid waiting to be apologized to on the playground.
“Where to start,” I scoff. I look over to Emmett who is begging me with his eyes not to say anything else about what happened with Theo before. It’s too incriminating for him. “I don’t expect anyone else to understand it,” I explain instead. “I thought Emmett could, but…that’s what you do. You tell people what they want to hear and give them what they want to win them over. But I can’t be bought, Theo. I know the truth about you. And I’m never going to trust you. I don’t care what anyone says. Nothing is going to change that. And the saddest part is…I know the rest of you will be forced to face that truth eventually. I just hope it’s not too late.”
I wipe a tear from my cheek, wishing I could just bring myself to say what they want to hear. If I could just play nice with Theo and fake it, this would all go away. But I feel like I’m watching them all be led straight off the side of a cliff. How can I not speak up?
“Is that all?” I ask quietly. “Can I go now?”
“Suit yourself,” Theo says grimly.
My mom doesn’t seem to have anything else to say. Brendan and Emmett grow quiet as well. I excuse myself from the table and walk slowly to my room, still in disbelief. My heart aches as I consider the reality of it all. Had it not been for Theo and his bad ties to the Elites, I would have never been invited to WJ Prep. And all the awful things that happened after would still be distant nightmares or scenes from horror movies. They wouldn’t be my reality. All of that would have been more than enough reason to hate him. But now it feels like he has stolen my entire family from me.
Doing all I know to do, I try to call Detective Williams to see what went wrong. Why did he tell Theo I was his source? The phone rings and rings with no answer. I think it’s just as well since I’m a sniffling, sobbing mess right now. But a minute later, Coach Granger calls.
“Yes?” I answer.
“Ophelia, are you okay?”
“I’ve been trying to reach Detective Williams,” I tell him in between my short, labored breaths. “He told Theo that I ratted him out. And now my whole family knows and…What happened? I thought we could trust him?”
“About that,” he clears his throat. “He asked me…well…he doesn’t want you or Emmett to contact him anymore.”
“What?” I cry. “Why?”
“Your lead on Theo went nowhere because it turns out he was an inside guy for the FBI the whole time,” he explains. “I don’t know how Theo found out. But between that and Emmett’s false alarm on his mother and sister’s kidnappings…he’d prefer you go through regular police channels from now on.”
“But those things weren’t our fault!” I sob harder. “And the police here are all corrupt! If we don’t have at least one person to turn to, what are we supposed to do?”
“Just stay focused on choosing which college you want to go to,” he urges. “Keep your chin up, Lopez. You’ll be out of here soon enough.”
“Thanks,” I murmur half-heartedly before hanging up. Sure, I’ll be out soon enough. But the rest of them won’t be.
As has become my habit for when I am alone in my room, upset with nothing else to do, I pick up Marissa’s diary. But my eyes are still watering, making it hard to read too much.
The more time I spend with Thomas, the more I see a side of him that no one else does. Not the sweet, charming guy that everyone loves. But a dark side. Something I’ve only seen glimpses of, but he has moments of being so heartless and selfish. I tried to talk to my mother about it, but she says all men can be that way and that I’d be a fool not to want to be Mrs. Jameson. So, more and more I am learning to stay out his affairs and keep to myself. And sometimes, I still feel like the luckiest girl in the world, but…
I can’t read anymore. I throw the book to the ground with a big thud, wondering what is different between Emmett and Thomas. Did I save Emmett in a way Marissa couldn’t save Thomas? Or have I just been fooled? There has to be some reason he’s so willing to choose Theo over me.
There’s a knock at the door, making me jump as I quickly kick the diary back under my bed. “Go away!” I shout out. “I want to be alone.”
“It’s me,” Emmett calls out from behind the door.
“Go away, please!” I try again.
But the latch turns and the door opens anyway. Of course, I forgot to lock it. Just my luck. I hear him come in, but he says nothing.
“What do you want!?” I moan, but as I turn around, I notice the pale ghostly look on his face. “Wha…what’s wrong?”
“It’s Malcolm,” he says in shock. “He’s dead.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
BOOK 3
I stare down the black velvet dress crumpled up in the corner of my room. It’s been laying there since the night Emmett attempted to flash all of his newly earned money at me, not realizing I’d inevitably find out where it came from. Now I have to consider putting it on for Malcolm Henderson’s funeral, but something about it makes me feel sick.
“I’m not going,” Emmett announces from the other corner of my room.
“I didn’t think you would,” I answer listlessly as I try to remember if I even own another black dress.
He can’t face Liam, Bernadette, and his mom all while pretending to care that Malcolm is dead. He hates him even more than I do. Which is sad since they were childhood friends. Emmett should be able to say goodbye to that part of him at least, even if its been dead for a while now.
“Why are you going?” he adds.
“For Bridgett,” I sigh. We’ve had this discussion twenty times already.
“But she can’t even talk to you while you’re there,” he argues. “No one’s supposed to know you two are friends, remember?”
“Does any of that even matter now that Malcolm is dead?” I wonder out loud as I dig through my closet.
“Another one always pops up in the old one’s place,” he grumbles.
The funny this is…Malcolm is the one who popped up in Emmett’s place.
“Well who’s next in line now, you think?” I yell out from the back of the closet, tossing out garment after garment. “Bernadette? One of those new guys?”
“Who cares,” he huffs.
I finally find a pair of black dress pants and decide those will have to do. I’m not in the mood to dress up too much anyway.
“Anyway…even if I can’t talk to Bridgett, I should at least be there as…I don’t know. A sign or something. It might make her feel better to have me around,” I explain as I slide on a dark, sheer sweater. “She didn’t like Malcolm any more than we did, but he was still her cousin.”
I leave him to sulk as I finish getting ready in the bathroom. He’s still sitting there looking miserable when I come out.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask, walking over to drag him out of the chair.
“Jameson Automobiles,” he answers quietly, looking almost shameful. “I guess I shouldn’t care. But at least with Malcolm around, I knew things would be in his hands when Liam croaked. Even if Malcolm was just as messed up as his dad. Now who will it go to? One of those strangers they brought into town? Malcolm may not have been a blood relative, but we still grew up together.”
“Why wouldn’t Bernadette take it over?” I suggest.
“Yeah right,” he scoffs. “She’d never sign up for something like that.”
“I don’t know…she seemed pretty concerned with the welfare of the company when she was working to rob you of everything,” I remind him. “Why do you care anyway? Jameson was fucked the moment they stole it from you. I’d think you’d enjoy watching it crumble right before their eyes.”
He stares off into the distance. “It’s bred into me to care I guess,” he shakes his head. “Even if it’s not mine anymore, it’s still my family’s legacy.”
I want to comfort him, but I’m still angry with the way he teamed up with the rest of my fam
ily to attack me. Pile that on top of everything else that’s been going on, and I don’t exactly feel like a top-notch girlfriend at the moment. I just want to get this funeral over with and pick a school so I can get the hell out of here. I don’t care anymore about whatever happens with these car companies or the Elites after that.
“I better get going,” I tell him. “You staying here…or…?”
“No,” he snaps to. “I’m going home.”
I head for the door, hating how lost Emmett looks. Ordinarily, I’d drop everything to try and help him find his way, but I just don’t have it in me right now.
The funeral service is cold and traditional. As is the burial afterward. The men stand around in their expensive suits and the women in their big black floppy hats. Everyone in sunglasses, as if it’d be too awful to imagine anyone seeing the Elites and their friends and family showing real emotion. They have to hide their tears like ice queens.
I still feel out of place, even as I sit and stand among them. I wonder if I’m welcome at all, so I stand back a ways from the burial site. Once it’s over, I wait for the rest of the crowd disperse before leaving. But as I wait, I notice I’m not the only one lingering in the cemetery. A tall, dark figure stands over the grave in privacy. As I walk closer, I realize it’s Coach Granger. I want to leave him alone and get away without disturbing him, but a twig snaps under my shoe as I turn to go.
“Ophelia,” he calls out for me.
“Oh, hey,” I spin around in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“It’s no bother,” he says, looking back down to the grave. “I was wondering if you’d be here or not.”
“I’m kind of surprised you’re here, honestly,” I confess as I step closer. “After what Malcolm did to your son…”
“It’s sad any time someone young dies so suddenly,” he replies. “My son…Malcolm…my heart hurts for both of them.”
“But your son would probably still be here if it hadn’t been for Malcolm,” I blurt without thinking, quickly realizing it was probably a harsh, unnecessary reminder.
He nods with a somber sort of acceptance. We’re both quiet for a moment as we stare down at the fresh dirt. I wish I had more thoughts on his death. I wish it brought up feelings about the meaning of life and the shortness of it, and why are we all here anyway? But all I can think is I know exactly why this happened. One way or another, Malcolm is just another victim of Jameson. I don’t trust any event like this being a natural occurrence. Not anymore.
“You’ll be the last runner I ever train, Lopez,” he says suddenly. “Once you’re gone, I’m retiring and leaving Jameson.”
“You can’t!” I plead. “You’re such a great coach. You could help so many more students.”
“I’m tired,” he says sternly. “I knew what I was getting myself into at WJ Prep. I thought if nothing else I could take a few of the spoiled brats and be one of the only people in their lives who demanded genuine excellence from them. The only person who didn’t put up with their twisted hierarchy and let them get away with their games. But I didn’t count on finding people like you mixed up in it all. And then…my son.”
I stare back down to the flowers piled on top of the grave and wish Malcolm’s death would change something, but Emmett is right. When one goes down, another one pops up in their place.
“It’s a shame,” he adds somberly. “If Malcolm had been given a chance, maybe he could have changed eventually.”
“People never change,” I scoff.
“We all change,” he turns towards me with an insistent look. “You’ve changed since you came here. I’ve changed. All we ever do is change.”
We stand there quietly for a long time before I finally say goodbye and leave him alone to think. I decide to skip the gathering afterward, assuming I wouldn’t be invited anyway since it’s at the Henderson Estate. But as I’m driving out of the cemetery, I see a long black dress blowing in the wind up ahead. It’s Bridgett. What is she doing walking out here all alone?
“Hey, need a ride?” I ask as I roll my window down, checking to make sure no one is watching.
“Yeah, thanks.” She jumps in, looking happy to see me. “I was going to call a cab when I got back to the main road. My family was driving me crazy. I couldn’t stand the thought of being locked up in a car with them.”
“I’m sorry. You’d think they’d chill out for at least a little while…considering the circumstances.”
“No way. They’re too paranoid about what happened to Malcolm,” she says.
“Paranoid?” I repeat. “So they suspect foul play?”
“Of course. As you would with any death around here, I guess,” she replies. “But an accidental car crash? They’re not buying it. They’re convinced someone did this to him.”
“No one told me it was a car crash,” I blink, feeling certain their suspicions are right. “Where did it happen?”
As Bridgett describes the area of the crash, I realize it was the exact same spot where my car went spiraling over the edge.
“What was he doing before that?” I ask frantically. “When did it happen?”
“He was leaving school after some kind of study group,” she looks at me with curiosity. “Why?”
“Did the cops happen to fish my car out of there while they were pulling him out?” I ask bitterly. “I’d say your family is right. If the brakes had been tampered with on the car, that’d be about the spot he’d lose control at. I know from experience. Which means…” I trail off as my mind races.
“What?”
“I assumed the Elites were responsible for all these threats to my life,” I explain. “But if they were…Malcolm would be the main one behind it all, right?”
“Probably so,” she nods. “But if the same thing happened to Malcolm, then…”
“You don’t think one of the other Elites would have tried to take him, do you? Like some kind of weird power struggle or…I don’t know.”
“I guess it’s possible,” she looks out her window, thinking it all over. “But,” her eyes cut over to me in hesitation. “Never mind.”
“Tell me,” I insist. “What is it?”
“Just…what I said before,” she stares down at her feet. “You don’t think Emmett would do this?”
I want to say he would never try to kill me or anyone. But that’s not true. He did play a hand in his own father’s death. And when he was told to by his father or the other Elites, he was capable of hurting me many times. If it had come down to it and they asked him to kill me, would he? And as for Malcolm, we all know he has plenty of motive for wanting to do something like that.
Then the words of Marissa’s diary ring through my brain, and I’m filled with even more doubt. Is Emmett inherently fucked-up because of his upbringing and genetics? Does he have this dark side always lingering beneath the surface now that he’s claiming to be a changed man?
“I can’t believe he’d do any of these things,” I proclaim, trying to convince myself just as much as Bridgett. “It’d be easier to believe that Theo would.”
Once again, Theo has reasons for wanting to harm the Hendersons. They stepped up to fill the shoes of the former Elites he managed to erase. I never did find it easy to accept that he’d stop there. I always thought he’d just keep going and going, power-hungry and aimlessly stomping out whatever new figure popped up in Thomas’s place. And what about his deal with Emmett? They both wanted Thomas dead, but is Emmett indebted to him now?
“Well whoever did it,” she continues, snapping me out of my rising mental panic. “If the same thing was done to your car that was done to Malcolm’s, I’d say whoever killed Malcolm is probably behind your death threats. Which means your number one suspect is dead and the real culprit is still out there. And obviously thirsty for blood.”
“I really am sorry about Malcolm,” I tell her. “I know he wasn’t your favorite person, but…”
“There was always something off about him,” her
eyes darken. “I could never put my finger on it when we were younger, but then he turned into a complete monster as we got older. I think he’s a sociopath.”
“Emmett would agree with you,” I sigh, remembering his opinions of Malcolm and their friendship. But does that mean Emmett is just as messed up? Maybe that’s why the two got along so well. And why he gets along with Theo. Could he be a sociopath too?
We’re quiet the rest of the way, playing detective in our minds. But mostly we’re both just exhausted. I feel bad for Bridgett. I want to go home and crawl into bed, but she still has hours of socializing to do among the grieving Elites and the rest of the school.
I drop her off at the iron gate lining the Henderson’s property, shivering to remember the last time I was there. I’m quick to say goodbye and drive off, getting home as fast as I can.
I’m conflicted as I crawl back into bed at home. Part of me wishes Emmett had stayed and that I could curl up in his arms right now where I usually feel so safe. But there’s a part of me that is losing all the trust I have built up in him.
I think over the past few months, all the way back to our first day back to school. His feelings about Malcolm and the new Elites were never resolved. He’s been so shady and withholding, disappearing for all of these mystery errands I never know anything about. And each time he disappears, another threat is made on my life. Then there’s his friendship with Theo. Throwing me under the bus to protect himself when I wanted to tell the truth about my dad and how we met. Going along with that whole intervention even though he knows why I don’t trust Theo.
By the time I get back to remembering his insecurities about money and his future, and the way he was so quick to start blowing through cash the moment he was put on Theo’s payroll, I feel sick to my stomach. More so than I have all day.
