Chapter 9 Evie
EVIE
“Ineed to finish a few things for work today,” my mom says as she walks past my bedroom, “so I will have to meet you there.”
I don’t say anything.
I just stare at myself in my mirror, my graduation cap on my head, the gown flowing down to my ankles. I have six different tassels for all of my honor societies and extracurriculars. My mom didn’t care much about them—she cared more about how much they cost.
When I woke up this morning, I had butterflies. I felt excited. I felt proud. I graduated with a perfect GPA. Highest in my class—and that’s without the tutors and donations that my classmates’ families contributed.
The success I’ve had was all my own.
I got a full scholarship to NYU.
They have a great social work program.
I am excited.
Or at least I was until two minutes ago.
Now, I feel stupid for letting myself feel happy.
Because now, instead of showing up with a gloating family, cameras in hand, tears on cheeks, I’ll show up to my own high school graduation alone in a cab.
Nan is pretty much wheelchair bound now, and getting her out of her assisted living home is next to impossible.
My brother couldn’t get off work, so he didn’t come into town.
I won’t know where my family is in the crowd.
We won’t make plans to go out afterward.
My mom won’t ask for more pictures of me and my friends.
But I don’t cry.
I won’t cry.
My makeup is already done.
I’ve straightened my long locks to all get-out. And there would be no use in being sad. I wish I had a faraway college to look forward to, like my classmates do. They are getting away, gaining independence and new perspectives.
Keaton tried.
He wanted me to go with him to Stanford.
I let him convince me to at least apply. And to my own surprise, I got in. But those loans would have been killer. I would be paying back my education for the rest of my life.
So instead, I’ll stay in New York. I’ll stay with my mom. I’ll commute to my classes, and I’ll keep working at the diner.
I’ll be smart. I’ll be practical.
But sometimes, when I’m alone, I fantasize about going with him, about getting on his dad’s jet, flying out west and never looking back, about having my own adventures…and having him.
That’s what I’m the most scared of.
Keaton has become the most important person in my life over these last four years. And I am absolutely terrified to lose him.
I had my sexual awakening after I watched him run off the lacrosse field last spring. He tugged his helmet off over his head, shaking out his sweaty hair, and I realized then what I’d always been afraid of: I wanted my best friend.
But the problem? So does everybody else.
And the other problem? Everybody else has something else to offer: status, rich parents, a clear, significant place in the world.
Keaton’s place has been established since before he was born. His life is predictable in ways that millions of people will never understand.
So I can’t want him, because he would be one more thing that I would never get. That I would never deserve. And it might mean that I’d risk losing him altogether. And I don’t know that I’d ever recover from that.
Just as I’m about to go downstairs and call a cab, my phone dings on my dresser.
You on your way? he sends. I smile, running my finger over his name.
About to be. Going down to get a cab.
A second barely passes before he’s calling me.
“Why are you getting a cab?” he asks.
“She’s…gonna be a little late,” I say.
There’s a beat of silence, and just as I’m about to say that it’s fine and I’ll see him there, he speaks.
“We will be there in five minutes,” he says. “You’re not going to our graduation by yourself.”
Click.
Sure enough, five minutes later, the Escalade pulls up out in front of our building, and I walk out the front door. I see my mom in our window, watching as I climb in. Her face is expressionless, but I know she’s not pleased.
At first, she didn’t believe that Keaton and I were friends.
“What on earth would he want with…” she had started to ask once.
But the truth is, I have asked myself that same question a million times.
But whatever the reason may be, he’s stuck around for four years.
While some parents may be thrilled that their child befriended the son of one of the richest men on the planet, my mom used it as another tool in her belt to tear me down.
Like there had to be an ulterior motive.
Like I didn’t offer enough on my own. And unfortunately, her voice has become my inner one.
“You look beautiful, Eve,” he says, leaning forward and kissing my cheek. I look behind him as my cheeks flush and see his older brother, Julian, and his younger brother, Brooks.
“Happy graduation day, Evie,” Julian says with a nod.
“When can we eat?” Brooks asks, and we both laugh.
Graduation goes off without a hitch. I don’t hear my mom when my name gets called, but I hear Keaton.
My classmates get loud cheers and whoops and whistles as they walk. Keaton gets a massive round of applause from both his own family and what feels like the entire theater.
His dad gives our closing remarks as the school’s largest legacy donor.
And then it’s over.
Parents are swarming their kids, camera flashes going off, and I see the not-so-subtle Everett security detail about twenty yards away, creating a large perimeter around them as a ton of the parents gawk at the spectacle.
I sigh.
“Happy graduation, Keat,” I whisper to myself. I spin on my heel to attempt to find my mom, when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I spin around to see Russ, one of the family’s security guys.
“Keaton wants a picture,” he says with a smile. Then he winks. “Happy graduation, Evie.”
I smile back.
“Thanks, Russ,” I say. He leads me through the crowd, and two of the other bodyguards split apart so we can fit through. Before I can say anything, Keaton rushes me, scooping me up into his arms. He spins me around, hugging me tight.
“Happy graduation day, Evie Rae Dawson,” he says, looking up at me as he hoists me up. I smile back.
“Happy graduation, Keat.”
He shifts me around so that I’m on his back then nods at his brother.
“Okay, J,” he says, “we’re ready.”
Julian starts snapping pictures as Cato nods and smiles at his onlookers. Brooks is playing on a video game of some sort, and Julian and Keaton’s mom, Kitty, is standing next to us, tears in her eyes.
I smile back at her then lean down and leave a kiss on Keaton’s face as Julian snaps one more photo. When he sets me back down, he smiles.
“Can you come with us to dinner tonight?” he asks. I tilt my head.
“Keat, I don’t want to—”
“I need you there, Eve. Please,” he says, his voice just above a whisper. I finally smile and nod. Just like me, he needs a buffer from his own family. And I am happy to be that for him.
A few hours later, I’m combing my hair out and straightening out the long navy dress I chose for dinner when there is a knock on our door.
“Hi, Keaton,” my mom answers from the living room, her voice as unenthusiastic as always.
I make my way out to where he’s standing in our doorway, looking devastatingly handsome in a nice shirt and slacks.
God, he really is gorgeous. It’s sort of unfair to have more wealth than every other human ever and also have gotten the best genes.
Leave some for the rest of us. We say a quick goodbye to my mom and make our way down to the car. When we get inside, I gasp.
Nan.
“Nan? What the… How in the…” I start to say as I leap over the seat to wrap her in a hug. She smiles and squeezes me, handing me a card with my name on it.
“It was Keaton’s idea,” she says. “They came and broke me out on their way here.” Tears prick my eyes as I turn to my best friend. He squeezes my knee as I squeeze his hand.
“Thank you, Keat,” I manage to say.
A little while later, we are finishing up dinner at some insanely fancy restaurant that I’ve never even heard of uptown. Cato apparently owns a share of it, and we have the entire place to ourselves. I am so overly stuffed and so uncomfortable.
I’m still not used to being with billionaires, no matter how much I do it. These people have absolutely no concept of the life that most people lead, and we have no concept of theirs. Our realities are different, so when our paths cross, it’s just…weird.
But Julian, Keaton, Nan, and I are at one end of the table with Kitty. Cato has some business buddies he’s invited at the other end. Brooks is running around the restaurant, and his poor nanny is doing her damndest to keep it together.
Cato finally agreed to let Kitty join for dinner but only after Keaton begged him. Their divorce was so ugly, and I know Julian and Keaton are still not over the way their father treated her. But unfortunately, there isn’t much they have the power to do about it—yet.
“Well, I am just so proud of you, Keaty,” Kitty says, reaching a hand over to pat his. “You too, Evie. You should be so proud of yourselves.”
I haven’t spent much time with Kitty, but when I have, I always feel lighter afterward. She’s calming, nurturing, empowering.
All the things a mom is supposed to be.
“Thanks, Mom,” Keaton says. She smiles then turns back to me again.
“Evie, I just wanted to say thank you.”
I swallow.
“Thank me for what?”
“For being such a good friend to Keaton all these years. I hope you two keep in touch. You are good for each other.”
“That’s the truth,” Nan echoes.
Keaton looks at me as he sips his wine that Cato ordered for all of us.
“Yeah,” he says. “We are.”