CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Hardy
Fifteen Years Ago
“ M ate. You fucked up. There’s no way in hell your mum and Daddy Moneybags are going to show,” Archie, my roommate, says as we stare out the window at every car that pulls up in the circular driveway of Kentwood Academy.
It’s parents weekend. Three days of showing off to our DNA donors what the ridiculous amount of money here buys and does for their precious sons. It’s a weekend full of pageantry and stuffy events that most of us students don’t give a rat’s arse about.
We just want our parents here because we miss the normalcy of home. The bear hugs from our mothers. The baked goods and special treats they bring with them. The feeling of being accepted unconditionally when here, there is always someone competing with you for something.
When’s the last time my mum showed up for one?
The first one. That’s it. There’s been a good four that have passed since then, and each time there’s a reason, an excuse, a grand apology and a box of something over the top to make up for the sudden trip she “needed” to take or event she “needed” to attend.
Each time I’d sit at this window and stare at the cars arriving, hoping the person who’d climb out the back seat would be my mum. And with each car, time after time, I’d get my hopes up and then crushed.
It was only after I made it back to my dorm that I’d get the message from the headmaster that she’d sent word about whatever reason her life was more important than I was.
But she’ll come this time.
I guaranteed it.
“You know the stunt you pulled is legendary. It’s going to be talked about for years to come.” Archie pats me on the back. “It’s already taken on a life of its own.”
“Hmm,” I say as another car starts down the long drive toward the school entrance.
Creating a slip-and-slide down the middle of Founder’s Hall at two in the morning was just my little contribution to the fun here.
And, no doubt, a call home from the headmaster that would definitely be paid attention to.
God forbid I embarrass their name or reputation among the people, the other parents here who they think hold so much clout in their world. Even when my mum and I don’t have the same name anymore.
They’ll come because of it. They have to.
But as the hours wear on and the times between the arriving cars space out, my hopes dwindle, and that pressure in my chest builds until it hurts to breathe. Archie leaves to be with his family, and eventually I’m left all alone in the reception area with no one to wait for.
How can you miss someone who constantly chooses someone else? How can you want someone who keeps letting you down?
“Alexander?”
My mother’s voice at my back feels like the rope tying me to the weight pulling me underwater has been cut.
I spin and run to her, wrapping my arms around her and holding on so bloody tight. She smells the same—like her perfume and her hairspray and the remnants of Monty’s cigar. I squeeze my eyes shut to hide the tears I won’t ever admit I’m crying and memorize the feel of her hands around me and the sound of her voice saying my name over and over.
It’s almost like I’ve forgotten these things whilst living in this rigid, testosterone-fueled environment where every moment is survival of the fittest, smartest, fastest, devious, and entitled.
She puts her hands on my shoulders and holds me away from her so she can look at me. There’s love brimming in her eyes but also clear frustration. “What is all this business about you causing trouble?”
“Just having a little fun.” I needed my mum. If only for a little while.
“A little fun? Monty does not enjoy having our name dragged through the mud because of it.”
“I wanted to see you. I ...” I blow a breath out to buy myself some dignity in case anyone I know walks by. “You haven’t made it to any of my games or school events or ... anything. I missed you.” My voice breaks so I clear my throat. “I just wanted to see you.”
“And here I am, but this isn’t an acceptable way to get my attention. Acting out. Making our name talked about in circles like we’re delinquents. It’s just not acceptable, Alexander.”
“It’s Hardy.”
She rolls her eyes and swats at the air. “You and this name change. Your name is Alexander.”
“Not anymore,” I say with a defiance that even surprises me.
She chortles out a laugh as if she’s going to change my name at the same time my whole damn world falls. Monty strides into the room with that air of arsehole-ness to him and a scowl already on his lips.
No doubt he’s pissed I made him miss arse-kissing some captain of industry somewhere or other who probably doesn’t exist. When you feel so threatened by your wife’s son that you ship him off to a boarding school, that says a lot about the character of the man himself.
And yet, it still gets to me, still eats at me, that as much as I love my mum, she’s to blame too. She could have fought harder to keep me. Could have said it was nonnegotiable.
“Alexander,” Monty bellows so that the few people wandering by swivel their heads our way.
I cringe at the sound of my name and hold tight to the only part of my life I still know. The only part I want to hold tightly to.
My dad.
His name.
“Hardy,” I say and square my shoulders. “My name is Hardy.”
He looks down his hawkish nose at me with a disdain even an eleven-year-old can notice. “I will not tolerate you acting out like this again.”
“He doesn’t mean it, Monty. It’s only because—”
“Stop making excuses for him,” Monty snaps at my mother. Heads don’t turn—people here are way too polite to do that—but I see their furtive glances at one another over the prick in the dark gray suit.
It emboldens me.
“You’re the one who spent good money to put me here. Aren’t you proud of the things they’re teaching me?” I taunt. “I thought you’d be awfully proud at the ingenuity of creating an indoor slip and slide.”
His hands are fisted in the lapel of my jacket in a heartbeat, and he gives me a harsh shake. “I will not tolerate this nonsense anymore. You want to come home for the holidays? For summer? There best not be another incident such as this because delinquents are not welcome in my house.”
I hate you.
I hate you with everything I have.
“My mum would never allow ...” I say but when I lock eyes with my mum over his shoulder, her head is shaking. There’s such sadness in her eyes that I know she’ll actually go along with it. With him.
Out of sight.
Out of mind.
“Understood, Alexander?” he asks.
He’s already taken her from me. He’s already replaced me with himself.
I look up at him and grin, never feeling more alone in my life than I do right now.
And I’m already plotting where my next slip-and-slide will go.