Chapter 33
Colin
Getting Mom to spring for another ticket to New York is easier than I expected.
All I have to do is utter the words “girlfriend” and “plus one for the gala.” Ava Fantino is thrilled once she’s found out that Olive is a model student at Dunbridge Academy, on top of which her dad’s a doctor.
Such a cute story for her to tell all the right people in New York society.
I didn’t want to drag Olive into this whole thing, but she wasn’t about to be talked out of coming with me once I’d told her my plan.
Which was to fly to New York, turn up to Mom’s dumb event, and then go to the police.
Now that I’m sitting in an airplane somewhere over the Atlantic, I’m not so sure it’s such a good idea.
I’d been surprised by the sense of excitement and anticipation earlier today, the first day of the half-term holiday at Dunbridge.
Suddenly, there were packed suitcases and bulging bags filling the hallways.
The courtyard was crammed with fancy cars; students were running into their parents’ arms. Olive and I got into her dad’s car so that he could drive us to the airport.
The whole way there, I felt like I should apologize that she was coming to New York with me instead of spending the break with her family, though I imagine she might prefer it this way.
We haven’t spoken any further about her parents’ split, but I can’t help noticing that she’s still shaken up.
I hate being so preoccupied with my own shit that I’m not taking as much time as I’d like to talk to her about her stuff.
I’m tense for the whole flight and get even more nervous once the pilot informs us that she’s beginning the descent into New York.
My hands are sweaty—my fingers need something to do.
I don’t even let myself think about the way I’d have calmed myself not so long ago.
In our first session, Ms. Vail and I worked out a no-self-harming contract.
At first, signing the piece of paper felt dumb, but to my surprise, it actually helps me take responsibility for my own actions.
It would be naive to think this has solved all my problems—the last few days have been shit.
So shit that I broke the agreement twice, but I was honest enough to tell Ms. Vail.
The result was that I had to fill out these behavior-analysis questionnaires with her to help me understand why I fall back into old patterns and to work out alternative strategies.
She approves of the boxing thing, and she suggested that next time, I write down my feelings before and after.
But now I’m on a plane with no punching bag anywhere in sight.
An hour later, as we’re sitting in the car Mom sent to pick us up, I suddenly feel Olive’s hand on my arm. “Feeling the pressure?” she asks.
Bull’s-eye.
My first instinct is to shake my head, but I remind myself: No, Colin. We’re not doing this anymore. We’re honest with the people who care about us. “A bit.”
“What can I do?”
I have no idea. Get two tickets for the first plane back to Scotland? I know that running away won’t solve my problems, but right now, I don’t feel like I have the strength to face them. Or to face my mom’s expression when she meets us shortly.
I look up as Olive hands me the scrunchie she’s been wearing around her wrist.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I ask, staring at the fabric-wrapped hairband.
“It’s a coping mechanism,” she says. She’s using Ms. Vail’s language, so I bet she asked her what she could do to help me.
“It won’t relieve the pressure.”
“It’s not meant to. But it might help you deal with it in a less harmful way.”
I suppress a sigh and start to snap the hairband around my own wrist. It doesn’t seem to do much at first, but combined with the Manhattan skyline as it comes into view, I feel slightly calmer. I wait in vain for a feeling of coming home, though.
Olive
New York is just like I imagined it, but bigger. Wide streets, skyscrapers so high that, from the car that picked us up at the airport, I couldn’t make out where they ended.
I’ve been raging with my parents so many times lately, but I’m sure nothing could have stopped them coming to meet me and my boyfriend at the airport after a transatlantic flight.
Colin doesn’t seem particularly surprised that neither his mum nor his dad is here to welcome us, and that makes me sad.
I truly become aware of how different his upbringing’s been from mine as we walk into an apartment-block lobby in the middle of Manhattan.
It’s like a film. All the noise of hooting cars, sirens, and building sites that enveloped us outside are suddenly cut off as a lift launches us up to the top floor.
The doors glide open and reveal a hallway that seems to be part of the Fantinos’ apartment.
You can’t get up here without a keycode, which Colin entered downstairs.
I glance at him, but he’s looking down the corridor, and at that moment, a girl runs toward us.
Cleo looks like I remember her from the video call I crashed. That seems a lifetime ago, but it’s only been a fortnight; even so, those two weeks were long enough to turn my world upside down. And Colin’s sister is at least partly to blame for that.
He hasn’t yet brought up the fact that he knows she sent me the messages, but her uncertain glance from Colin to me and back again tells me she’s just waiting for him to mention it.
Apparently, he doesn’t consider this the right moment, though.
“Don’t you have a welcome-home hug for me?” he jokes, but his voice sounds strained. The way it always does when he’s trying to hide that he’s a lad with emotions.
I chew my bottom lip to stop my eyes welling as Cleo throws herself into his arms and bursts into tears. I’m an only child, so I probably can’t come close to imagining what it’s like to have your big brother leave and not know when he’s coming back.
This is the first time Colin and Cleo have seen each other since then.
I knew that, but I didn’t know what it would really mean.
That doesn’t sink in until Cleo digs her fingers into his jacket and can’t stop crying.
Colin’s dropped his suitcase. His eyes are also glittering a bit too brightly when he finally lets go of her and looks to me.
“Cleo, this is Olive. Olive, Cleo.” I can feel that he’s on the verge of saying something else. But he doesn’t.
Cleo looks seriously stressed, but she smiles back at me. “Pleased to meet you,” she mumbles, looking down.
“Likewise,” I reply.
“Where are Mom and Dad?” Colin asks.
“Dad’s still at the office, and Mom had to go into the studio early. There was some kind of issue.”
“Obviously.” There’s a bitter undertone in Colin’s voice. He laughs. “Well, it looks like you won’t get the pleasure of getting to know them until later,” he adds, turning to me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved.
But I do meet Kirsten—the nanny, Colin explains. She shows me the guest room that’s been made up for me, and I notice Colin’s expression as I thank her.
Guest room . . . I can imagine what he’s thinking. Wing time at Dunbridge can’t stop us spending the nights together, so his parents are hardly going to.
“Mom asked if you guys wanted to go into the studio,” Cleo says as we head back to the living room. “Hayes Chamberlain is there today.”
I raise my eyebrows in amazement, while Colin looks like he hasn’t a clue who she’s talking about.
“Is this his first interview since the band split up?” I ask.
Cleo nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, so I’m totally going! Maybe he’ll say something about when Temporary Fix are getting back together.”
I just nod, because from everything I’ve heard about the boy band lately, it doesn’t exactly look like they’ll be ending their self-imposed break any time soon.
Tori’s been keeping me up to date on all the gossip.
She’d die if she knew that one of the band will be on Colin’s mother’s talk show this evening. I glance hastily at Colin.
“Up to you,” he says. “We can stay here if you’re tired.”
“Are you tired?” I ask, by which I really mean, is he feeling up to it? I know that the long journey and jet lag will have messed up his blood sugar. But he shakes his head.
We have time to eat dinner with Cleo before we leave. There’s a large neon sign that reads Late Night with Ava Fantino, in elegant script, adorning the building where the show is produced. The minute we walk in, I feel as though I’ve stepped into a world that couldn’t be more different from mine.
Colin and Cleo seem to know the place like the backs of their hands—same as everyone who works here.
I can instantly tell that we’re going to meet his mother because Colin tenses more and more with every step.
Cleo turns a corner and stops outside a door with Ava Fantino’s name on it in discreet letters. And then I see her.
Ava Fantino is smaller than I imagined, but no less intimidating.
She looks up from her phone, her eyes rest on Colin. I don’t know what I was expecting. Her features to soften at the sight of him, maybe. An emotional reunion with his mother. But there’s no sign of any such thing.
“How nice that you both could come.”
Surely that’s not how you greet a son when you haven’t seen him for weeks.
“Did you have a good trip?”
“Yeah, amazing.” And bam, my chilly, sarcastic Colin is back. Now I know where he comes from. His jaw muscles are working as he hugs his mum. She radiates an incredible presence, yet her eyes are like ice as she looks at him.
Then she turns to me. “You must be Olive,” she says, holding out her hand.
I shake it. “Thank you for the invitation, Ms. Fantino.”