Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CADENCE
Mum hauls me into the lounge to talk about wedding plans and happy-ever-after futures while I send Drake an apologetic glance. The swipe of photographs across the screen doesn’t need attention beyond an occasional exclamation and my thoughts drift to the journalist again, wondering how I can use her.
Talking to her mightn’t be enough. If Maggie disclosed the abuse but nothing went to print, then she probably requires confirmation from other sources or solid evidence, neither of which I have.
A photograph of Drake’s injuries might help, but I’m honest enough to admit it mightn’t be worth anything. Not when it comes from my phone instead of the clinical lens of a forensic photographer.
“Aren’t these bridesmaid outfits adorable,” Mum sighs, swiping into an image full of ruffles, laces, and a shade of peach determined to turn any potential scene stealers into background extras.
“They’re beautiful but nobody’s going to be looking at the bridesmaids. Show me what you’re going to wear.”
I study Mum’s face as she bends to the challenge.
Besides the panicky freakout of this morning, there’s a slowness to her movements, a sheen to her eyes that makes me think she needs an appointment with the shrink to adjust her meds.
Taking them regularly must be a shock to her system because they’ve never made her groggy before.
But even with that dampener, her enthusiasm is catching. It’s such a treat to see her excited I can’t imagine being the one to burst her bubble.
Except the happiness is as illusory as the rest of this lifestyle.
There’s money but not for us.
There’s safety but not for us.
If Arnold will beat his son for such a tiny infringement, he’ll do far worse to the practical strangers now camping in his home.
We still need to leave but I don’t know how to sell that future to her.
Another hope resting at the journalist’s door, and I haven’t called her number. I haven’t even talked it through with Drake to get his opinion.
Nor do I get the chance to. Not with Arnold buzzing around and Mum flitting from one thought to the next with such speed, it makes my head spin.
At dinner, we exchange rueful glances, and his hand finds its way to my leg without delay.
“I apologise for being so grumpy,” Arnold says while Mum serves the meal. “Blaine, I’ve called the garage and booked the car in for tomorrow. It should be fixed by Friday at the latest. You can take Emily’s car until then.”
Drake frowns at him. “Won’t she need it?”
“Since Raelene’s going to be a permanent fixture”—he gives her a sickeningly sweet smile—“I’ve let Emily go.” His gaze moves to me. “I’m sure you’ll be a great help to your mother over the coming weeks. First, there’ll need to be an engagement party to let everyone share our good news. Thursday is the best night for me, and I’ll pass out the client invites personally.”
“This Thursday?” My mother plucks at her throat while he nods. “Isn’t that too soon?”
He laughs. “The entire thing is too soon. But we don’t need the world’s biggest turnout.” His eyes narrow as I fiddle with my phone. “Can you also do some social media posts from the night? Get good photos of the two of us.”
It’s like we’ve been shot out of a cannonball, but I must admit, it’s working well for my mother. She looks happier with each hasty decision.
I hate to be a pessimist, but there’s no way I can see Mum taking over all of Emily’s jobs. She couldn’t do them for just the two of us. Expanding that to four and doing those tasks well?
It’s Herculean. Especially during a downswing where her mood unravels.
I smile and try to radiate happiness while inside, my blood runs cold.
Drake winces as we walk into school the next morning, and I crush his hand into the tiniest possible space. Felicity chats with a girl just inside the door and she looks our way, gives a vague smile of recognition, then snaps to attention, giving her conversational partner a nudge.
This doesn’t matter.
For a second, I think the voice comes from inside my head, then feel the puff of Drake’s breath against my cheek.
“By next week, they’ll be back to ignoring you again.” He swaps out his hand to the non-compacted one, and puts it around my shoulders instead, the weight reassuring. “Or they’ll swarm to your table every time you try to eat alone,” he adds with a wry grin.
He’s calmer than I ever remember him being.
And confident.
I lean closer, trying to absorb the qualities I need through osmosis. “That vanlife seems pretty attractive right now.”
“Just tell me when, babe.”
My feet abruptly stop. “Don’t call me that. It’s what you used with Stacey.”
“Stacey is a babe. So are you.”
“Either give me a proper pet name or don’t bother.”
“Chill, sis.” He removes his hand long enough to spank my arse cheek. “Don’t draw attention.”
And it’s not something I need to do. Not with half the gazes in the corridor swinging my way.
But I’ve had boys staring at me from day one. I’d much rather be on this side of the truth even if it hurt like hell to get here. If they’re such losers they have to look at stolen images of a girl who didn’t know she was being filmed to get off, they don’t rate my consideration.
If only my anxiety would get on board, I’d be laughing.
When we turn the corner, Gretchen leans against her locker, joking with Rox. I take a deep breath, lengthening my stride to mimic Drake’s confidence. “Hey.”
She cocks an eyebrow, eyes sweeping over both of us. A dismissive sneer shows she arrives at the right conclusion. Either that or the grapevine fed her more information after we left on Saturday night.
I try for a conciliatory tone. “Sorry about your party.”
“Don’t talk to me, brotherfucker .”
When I reach for my locker, she sniffs, jutting her chin.
“Anyone would think you’re an attention whore the way you’re parading about… or just a whore.” She aims a haughty stare at Drake, eyes issuing a challenge. “Like her mother. Isn’t that what you told me?”
Even though I know we’ve come a long way since he must have made those cutting comments, my throat still pulls tight at the insult.
Drake surges past me, backing her against the lockers at the flippant remark.
“Keep her mother’s name out of your mouth,” he snarls. “Life didn’t work out the way you wanted for once, Gretchen. Do what the rest of us have to; suck it up and move on.”
Her face reddens as she shuffles to the side. “You’ve got a nerve. Talking all that shit about your dead mother and how no one understands you.” Her lip curls. “I should’ve known better than to associate with low-class trash.”
She flounces away, gathering her girl army as she goes. A few new members spot an opportunity and make a beeline towards her.
“Nice friend you have,” Drake says, staring after her.
“ Me? I seem to recall you were friends with her last.” I hold up my hands. “Bags not it.”
“If it isn’t our resident firebug.”
We both turn at Hudson’s mocking tone, and I see Gretchen pause at the corner, looking back at us with interest.
“You should watch what you say.” I move until I’m only a foot away, eyes raking across his face, wondering what I ever saw in him.
Safety, my brain helpfully reminds me and isn’t that an ironic joke.
“This is the second time you’ve made an unsubstantiated accusation. Does your mother know you’re out here, risking a libel suit every time you open your stupid gob?”
“Better to be in court than be the school bike or a fucking pyro.” He shakes his head. “I’ve half a mind to report your behaviour to the principal.”
Drake sniggers. “Half a mind is right.”
But my outrage fires. “You want to report me? You must be having a laugh.”
“Only at your expense. You’re the one whose nude photos are on everyone’s phone.”
My nude photos?
Hudson saunters away like he won the battle.
“Oh, no. You fucking don’t.” I stalk after him, grabbing his shirt sleeve and spinning him to face me. My forefinger pokes his chest as punctuation. “You want the truth? You’re a pathetic loser. It’s no wonder the only way you’ve ever seen a girl naked is by spying on them through your hidden camera.”
“Sure, I’m pathetic,” he scoffs. “Except if your stepbrother hadn’t vandalised my car, I’d have won my bet a few weeks ago. You were following me around with your tongue hanging out, you were that desperate.”
“Desperate for what?” I scan him slowly from head to toe, letting my expression do the talking. “I was being polite, you stupid arsehole. But if you want the truth instead, here it is. You can’t kiss.”
I take a step closer to him, alight with satisfaction when he falls back an equal distance.
“Your mouth is a slobbery mess.”
Another step, another retreat.
“When you touched me, it ranged from feeling nothing to making my skin crawl.”
Hudson’s cheeks turn redder with every second, clashing with his strawberry blond hair. “Just because you get off fucking a pyromaniac doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me.”
“No. It’s the filming girls in secret that means there’s something wrong with you. It’s the betting on whether you can get some girl to take pity on you long enough to let you fuck her.”
I put my hands on my hips, chest heaving from exertion as I vent everything I’ve held back for too long.
“And tell me, Hudson. Did you win that bet?”
A boy near the window chokes out a laugh and I don’t need to turn to know it’s Viliami.
“Don’t know what you find so funny, twin two,” I say, whirling on him while Salesi barks out a surprised laugh. “You played and lost at the same game.”
“Hey!” Viliami holds up his hands, still chuckling. “I was just trying to make a quick buck for my amusement. No need to attack me for that.”
“As if that makes it better,” Rox says, snarling when his smile remains intact. “Is there anyone here who hasn’t been offered a ride on the twin express?” She tosses her head. “You’re all as disgusting as each other.”
“Careful,” Hudson says with a sneer. “You don’t want to upset her highness by forming your own opinion.”
“Don’t worry,” Gretchen calls out, marching to stand beside me in solidarity. Arms folded. Eyes glaring.
I don’t know who among us is more shocked.
“When it comes to a bottom feeder who thinks filming teenage girls without their knowledge is fun, that’s an opinion the entire senior year shares.”
Their unexpected support makes my pulse beat faster.
She takes out her phone, swiping to a screen that she flashes at Hudson. “This is the one, isn’t it? The top secret, everybody must take it to their grave website where you organise these stupid games?”
His widening eyes are the only answer but they’re enough.
“And… sent.” Gretchen tucks the phone away with a smirk. “Have fun explaining your involvement to the principal. Especially when he finds out a local news organisation has a tipoff. I’m sure he’ll be impressed you dragged his school through the muck.”
Hudson snorts. “You wouldn’t.”
“It’s already done, dipshit.” She turns away, then just as quickly turns back. “Thank Ben for me. I know he only does it for the money, but he really went above and beyond on this one.”
Her penetrating gaze sweeps across the boys, all looking less sure of themselves with each passing second.
I put my hand on her forearm. “Thank you.”
The ice in her stare cuts like glass. “I didn’t do it for you.” She gives a sniff. “The losers here need to learn who actually runs this school.” Her volume rises. “And it sure as fuck isn’t the bunch of incel virgins placing bets on an unsecure noticeboard.”
She sticks her haughty nose in the air.
“Until I say otherwise, I’m the queen.”
With that, Gretchen sweeps along the hallway, heading for homeroom, and I feel a strange urge to applaud.
That or buy her a tiara to complete the look.
Before any of us regroup, the overhead speaker crackles. “Hudson Carter. Make your way to the principal’s office, immediately.”