Very Wicked Things

I chewed on that, played it through my mind. “I don’t know, but it seems I’m more like my mama than I ever thought.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, Dovey, don’t say you—”

“I had to,” I said, explaining about the drugs and how I couldn’t sell them. I told her how Alexander had threatened all of us. “It didn’t matter to him that I’m his daughter.” And still that hurt me. Perhaps because a parent’s rejection is one you never recover from.

She sniffed, and I saw with surprise she’d teared up. “Hey, don’t you dare cry for me. We gotta stay strong.”

She shook her head. “I wish I had the money to give you, but I barely make it each month myself. You sure you can’t ask your friends for it?”

Oh. That hurt. “No, it’s too late for that anyway. I don’t think I have any friends left.” I patted her knee. “You do so much for Sarah. Thank you for watching her for me.”

As the sun rose, I realized the world is all about complimentary opposites. We exist with ups and downs, with shadows and light, with heaven and hell. Everyone makes a choice, and I’d picked my own path willingly. I’d harmed only myself.

People will judge me for what went down in that hotel room. But I own it. I did it. And, I wouldn’t ever change my mind about that. Perhaps it’s the way I was raised, to never know if you’d have food or if your mama would come home. Those precarious facets shaped who I was, making me into someone who didn’t dwell on self-flagellation or pity. What happened, happened. Perhaps a person made of sterner stuff would have called Alexander’s bluff or gone to the police. Perhaps they would have gone to Cuba and asked for money. But that was not me.

I wasn’t saying it was right. It wasn’t. But, I forgave myself for my sins because, well, I’d do them again. For Sarah.

I EMAILED THE headmaster Mr. Cairn over the weekend and asked him for an emergency meeting on Monday morning. I knew what had to be done to make things better for everyone. He emailed back, agreeing to meet before school started, saving me from having to face Cuba or Spider or whoever else they’d told.

On Monday, I settled in his office chair and told him about Sarah and how I was being given power-of-attorney, making me officially in charge of our lives. I asked to finish out the last two and a half months through correspondence, claiming that with our limited resources, I needed to be with her twenty-four seven. Medical emergency. It wasn’t a lie. He agreed and gave me all the necessary paperwork to sign to get the ball rolling with my teachers.

Thankfully, classes had started by the time I left his office and cleaned out my locker. After that, I left to see Mr. Keller in the dance building. I trekked across the quad and into his office. He seemed shocked at my leaving but understood. I told him I’d be continuing my training alone. And I would. Nothing would stop me from my audition.

I left him and braved the quad.

My traitorous eyes drifted over to the football field, and I thought back to the day I’d run the entire 100 yards just to find him.

My stomach felt leaden.

And maybe that was enough of a distraction that I didn’t notice when my feet carried me to our barn. It drew me, sucked me into its orbit, and in a way that was full of regret, I was glad. I’d never see it again. Without analyzing it too much, I walked inside and peered around at the empty building. This past school year, BA had finished building a brand new equestrian facility, leaving this one empty. The loneliness of the place ate at my gut, reminding me of the days we’d spent here after practices, learning each other, falling in love.

I climbed up to the loft and looked around. The sun came in at an angle making it easy to read the graffiti-covered walls. And what I saw blew me away. My name, his name. Written in with a red sharpie or a marker.

But wait.

Neither one of us had written our names last year, yet at some point, he’d come back and done so.

“Sebastian said he saw you out here,” a deep voice said, startling me.

I whipped around to see Cuba and took a step back. Drawn up, he appeared riddled with tension and ready to snap.

“I want to know why you did it,” he said, amber eyes burning into mine.

I hitched my dance bag on my shoulder. “Why do you care?”

He glanced at my bag. “You left your locker open. It’s empty. You’re not coming back, are you?”

“No.”

“Why?” His voice rose.

What to say? That I couldn’t bear to see him every day? That him knowing what I’d become made me want to shatter. “I did what I had to do for Sarah.”

“All you had to do was ask me.” He rubbed his hands through his hair. “I can’t wrap my head—”

“Life is not that easy or simple,” I said, exasperated. “You’re a rich kid. You don’t know how I think.”

His tossed his head back and groaned out. “Fuck me. I can’t help that.”

I kept going. “But, the thing is, you have no concept of where I come from. I can’t just snap my fingers and have money. I’ve watched a man kill another man. I’ve watched hookers crawl into cars with men. I’ve been fucking hungry and cold for nearly half of my life. And I don’t have rich parents. I am the parent. Don’t you see that? She’s all I got. She saved me a long time ago. Do you think I’d be here, right now, if it wasn’t for her? I wouldn’t. Most likely, I’d be dead.” I paused. “I love her. Like you love your dad or your sister or your mom. Wouldn’t you do anything to save them?”