Chapter 4
I dreaded waking up on Mondays.
But on this particular Monday, I dreaded it even more.
I struggled going into an environment in which I knew I didn’t belong, and school did just that.
The funny thing was, once I actually got to school and got situated in, I felt right at ease.
I was tough for the teachers, but my students loved me, and even those teachers that openly complained about me had to admit I had the brains to pass for a Hunt.
I just didn’t act like I cared. But I did care.
Still, today, the facade had crumbled. It would be the first day in which I would have to own up for not being a true Hunt.
It would be the first day that Sarah Hill would get to spread her tale of what had happened.
It would be the beginning of the end for me, the moment in which I would have to decide between another half-decade of judgmental glares or a return to the foster home and a roll of the dice.
We had a valet drive us to school, as usual, and I remained unusually quiet in the back.
Morgan usually liked to do homework in this time, and I had eventually grown to respect that, not bugging him as much as I might have earlier in our brotherhood, but even then, I would occasionally pipe in with the smartass remark.
Today, though, I just clammed up. Morgan never noticed, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. It was just as well, really. The last thing I needed was to again explain the unexplainable to someone who could never understand the real explanation.
When we arrived at school, I pushed open the door, nervously walked forward, and looked for the first sign of Sarah Hill.
I didn’t know what I was going to say. I didn’t even know if I was going to say anything to her.
It’s not like I had some special secret to give to her or some confession to make.
I didn’t have to apologize for anything, nor did she—if anyone, Mr. Hill was the one who owed me an apology.
Now that I thought about it, I’m pretty sure Sarah would have wanted to stay with me, but she sure as hell wasn’t willing to sacrifice anything for it. Was that really the same as being with me, then?
I looked down the row of lockers. Hers was remarkably close to mine, but she hadn’t shown up yet. Looking for a spot on the wall to try and do some homework, I slumped down, put my nice, silver headphones on—OK, living with the Hunts had its perks—and tried to work.
I tried, but I kept looking up every dozen seconds for signs of Sarah. I was like the guy who couldn’t take his eyes off of his smart phone—except the smart phone was Sarah Hill, and at least the hypothetical guy looked at his phone with purpose. I still didn’t know what I would say to Sarah.
A few of my friends came over and engaged me in conversation. I tried to ignore them at first, leaving the headphones on, but I didn’t succeed. I ended up just chatting with them, given that it did a better job of keeping me from looking for Sarah than my actual homework did.
Then, finally, I saw her.
She was speaking with friends, but she was moving forward. She didn’t look any different than she had Friday. She was still laughing with them and still smiling… as if what had happened on Saturday didn’t matter.
That was a fucking stupid thought, and I knew it. No one got over an ended relationship that quickly, especially girls. But still…
Why couldn’t she have looked like me, dour and depressed? Why couldn’t she have shown some grief on her end?
Or maybe, maybe she did, and was just the better actor between us. Maybe she knew how to hide her pain better than I could. It certainly wasn’t implausible. All I had to do was look at myself in the mirror and look at her to know the difference.
I stood up… but not really sure what I would do. Talk to her? Confront her? She had her friends around her, and for as sure of myself as I was generally, I knew better than to approach her surrounded by friends, and this did no favors.
Instead, I just sat back down meekly, undoubtedly looking like a fool but really not that aware if someone laughed. I might have looked like a puppet rising, or I might have just looked like a confused soul. Both seemed like apt metaphors right now.
I waited for her to look my way… just briefly make eye contact… but no, it never came.
“Fine,” I said.
“What?” a friend of mine, Karl, said in the other direction.
“Nothing,” I said, even though that was the furthest thing from the truth.
Here’s what was the truth—I would have to get used to being ignored and seen as less than great because of my status.
Mrs. Hunt and Morgan could make all the claims they wanted to about how things would get better and yada yada yada, but no matter what, Mr. Hunt, of all the damn people, acted the most honestly with me.
It sadly wasn’t hard to see how this would play out in the years ahead.
I might meet someone through Morgan or the family name, only to have them fall apart because I wasn’t a true Hunt.
Maybe someone would see me as nothing more than a means to meet Mr. Edwin Hunt, the great businessman of the 21st century.
Maybe someone would just see me as a mere pawn in their game, to be controlled like a butler with a snap of the fingers.
Then, to my surprise, she came over to me.
“Can I talk to you in private, Chance?”
Karl did his usual “oooooh” sound whenever a girl came to talk to me.
Usually, I playfully smacked him and called him an asshole.
Today, though, I actually hit him, hard enough that he bent over and groaned in pain.
He looked at me in surprise, but my stern glare got the point across.
I was not fucking around, not when I had…
something, I didn’t know what, but something with Sarah.
I was not going to let even the slightest word or the slightest change of the wind screw me over.
I followed Sarah to a stairwell, one that led to the roof and thus rarely had other students nearby. My whole body shook as I stammered and clammed up. She wasn’t in a rush to leave me this time, but she also didn’t look like she was about to kiss me in surprise. I gulped.
“I’m sorry for the way I left you, Chance,” she said. “I really like you, I do. I hope you know that.”
But…
“But what I said, unfortunately, is true. My father will kill me if he finds out I’m dating a boy like you. I know that’s a terrible thing to say, and I wish it wasn’t so, but I—”
I shook my head as her voice trailed off. This was just going to be the remake of Saturday afternoon, wasn’t it?
“Why are you telling me this, Sarah?” I said.
She gulped in a way that suggested that she also had something to say.
“Sometimes I wish I could just say fuck it all and be with you, Chance,” she said, uttering what I felt reasonably confident was her first swear ever.
“You’re funny, charming, forceful in a good way, and handsome.
I’m not lying when I say I like you. But I’m not in a position to go against my father’s wishes. None of us are.”
I had a feeling where this was going. I hated that it gave me a glimmer of hope.
“While we’re here, we have to obey our parents. We have to obey the family rules. But sometimes, I think about what I’m going to do when I get to college. How much fun I’m going to have. What happens when we don’t have parents.”
I already know. It’s not as fun as you’d think.
But…
“When that happens, Chance… this won’t matter and we can be together.”
I looked at her in the eye. She spoke with utter sincerity.
“You’re under your family’s rule. You have the Hunt name. I see you as more of a Hunt than your brother.”
I wasn’t sure I loved the meaning I took from the compliment, but I got what she really meant.
“When you’re older, this won’t follow you around. You’ll get the chance to be your own man. Just… just wait, OK?”
She grabbed my arm when she said that, sending a shiver down my spine.
I can’t say that I fully agreed. The Hunt name would follow me around. That was unavoidable.
But she did make a point. I had to be my own man when the time came. That wouldn’t be now, that wouldn’t be next year, it probably wouldn’t even be for five years. But when that time came…
Chance Hunt would emerge, both with girls and in business, as a name distinct and separate from Hunt Industries. Who knew what that would do to my relationship with Morgan and the Hunts, but by then, it wouldn’t matter. I could not permanently shake it off, but I could shrug it off.
“OK,” I said, taking the small glimmer of hope for the future.