I’m not who everyone thinks I am. Am I a jerk? Yeah, they got that part right. I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of and what makes it worse is I know what I’ve done is wrong. But I’m not only a jerk. I’m also hiding something. Something I’m not proud of, but at the same time, I want it.

After I get off the phone with Ensley, I wander out to the balcony and shut the doors to make sure no one can hear the call I’m about to make. If anyone finds out what I’m up to, I could lose everything. And I mean that in the literal sense. But if I can pull it off, I might finally be free for the first time in my life, finally get what I want.

I know what you’re thinking at this point. How can he possibly not have everything he wants? He’s been given everything since the day he was born.

It’s the truth, too. I’m not going to try to deny my entitlement. I know I’ve had an easy life, if you’re basing it solely on materialism. But my life isn’t all parties, glitz and glamor, and all that shit. I’ve been through a lot. I’ve had to put up with stuff many people haven’t. I’ve never been able to make my own choices, and I often feel like a caged animal.

And now, here I am, being the selfish prick I was raised to be, about to do something terrible that will hurt some people.

Do I feel bad about what I’m doing? Yeah, I do. That’s not going to stop me from doing it, though. I need what’s waiting for me at the end, unable to face what’s waiting for me if I don’t make it there.

I lean against the balcony railing and stare out at the backyard that stretches for miles with the phone clutched in my hand. It’s quiet. I love the quiet. That might surprise a lot of people considering I’m constantly in the spotlight. I didn’t choose that position, though. It was forced on me in third grade—the start of my downfall.

I was so young and hated every moment of it. The fakeness, the pretending, always putting on a façade … I didn’t want to do it, yet I had no choice. My family’s name depended on it. At least, that’s what my mom told me. Now that I’m older, I understand the bigger picture. And understanding the bigger picture is what makes dialing his number easier.

I just wish I didn’t have to hurt so many people when I make this call. Most of all, I wish I didn’t have to hurt Ensley. If she finds out about this, she won’t ever forgive me. After being around her for years and watching her, I know how she’ll react, and I hate myself for being the one who’s going to cause her pain. But I have to go through with this. I can’t deal with another alternative. Which makes me weak. I know this. But I’ve been told I’m weak all of my life I guess I’m just living up to my name.

“I started it,” I say after he answers. My gaze instinctively falls to the scar on the palm of my hand, a reminder of how much I want to break free. A reminder of how hard it’s going to be to escape.

“Good,” he replies. “And did you do everything I told you?”

“Yeah,” I lie, closing my hand and hiding the scar.

The truth is that I didn’t initiate contact with Ensley in the way he instructed, mainly because I didn’t expect her to flat-out say yes when I asked her to be my date to my party. I thought I was going to have to work for it.

With how I treated Ensley when we were younger, she’s never given me the time of day, even though I’ve try. And I’ve tried a fucking lot. But the only time she’s ever said more than a handful of words to me is during a conversation that I’m pretty sure she was too drunk and high to remember. A conversation where I poured my heart out to her when I was having a really shitty day. But then I felt stupid afterward when I realized how drunk and high she was, and I haven’t been able to really look her in the eye since. Well, except for today. Today I looked her in the eye and asked her out on a date, and she said yes, just like that. And it changed the plan.

It might have changed everything.

Of course, she ran off afterward and left me feeling self-conscious and a little uneasy about how serious she was—still am. The feeling is new to me. After years of having girls throw themselves at me, I’ve never had to question if someone really wants me. Ensley is different. Always has been. But I began to really notice her around sophomore year. At first it was simply an attraction, but when I started paying attention to her, I realized how nice of a person she was. How she offered shy smiles to everyone, even when she was nervous. How she never said anything rude to anyone. She never teased people and always helped people who were getting teased. When my friends would knock some of the nerdy kids books out of their hands or trip them, she’d help them up or pick up their books. Then she’d offer a kind word or two. I was—still am—mesmerized by her sweetness. She’s the kind of person I’ll never be. In fact, I’m probably the complete opposite. I’m the guy who once bullied her.

I’ve been trying to get her to see me differently, but I don’t think she can stand me. Whenever I try to tease or flirt with her, she refuses to have any part of it. And I feel like she thinks I’m always making fun of her. I partially blame my sister for that. Like today in the hallway when I cracked a joke about Elodie not being pretty. I think somehow Ensley misinterpreted the joke to be about her, and I’m sure Elodie escalated the situation by thinking the worst of me.

Sure, Elodie and I don’t get along—never really have—but that doesn’t mean I’m a jerk to her every fucking hour of every fucking day. I’ll admit that I’m a jerk more than I should be, and I’ve done stuff to Ensley in the past that justifies her hatred toward me. And now I might be giving her even more reason to hate me.

It makes me feel a bit sick to my stomach.

“Don’t mess this up, Carter,” he warns. “I’m counting on you to make this happen. I’ve risked a lot making this deal with you.”

“I know.” I lower my head and release a stressed breath. “And I appreciate you making the offer at all.”

“Why do you want this?” he asks. “You never did explain that part to me. Why are you turning your back on your family?”

“Let’s just say I’m tired of everything,” I mutter, the scar on my palm throbbing. “And I’m ready for a change.”

“And what about when everyone finds out? You know you’re going to have a lot of shit to deal with when this is all out in the open.”

I understand that. What I’m doing right now … a lot of people are going to hate me when this is all over. But I’m not going to back out. I’ve spent too much of my life backing down and doing what everyone else wanted.

I take a deep breath, feeling as though I’m sealing my fate. I just wish I knew what that fate was.

“I understand that, and whatever happens, I’ll deal with it when the time comes.”

“So, you want to keep moving forward with the plan?”

“Yeah, I want to keep moving forward with the plan.”

“Good. Then here’s what I want you to do next …”