50. Blake
BLAKE
Nothing is resolved by the time we go to bed.
I’m still not ready to face my brother and that disgusted, shocked, who the hell are you look on his face, so I sneak up to my room, feigning a migraine, and desperately try to get some sleep.
It doesn’t work.
All I want is Grady’s arms around me and for this to all be over. But I doubt sneaking to his room tonight is a good idea.
Is Wily right?
Is Grady still in love with his ex-girlfriend?
Am I just a fling that he’s trying to get out of his system?
The thought sits horrible and heavy in my chest, making it hard to breathe again. I do my best not to panic but end up sitting up, kicking the covers off me, and pacing the room while I try to regulate my heartbeat.
It’s about two in the morning, and I’m close to losing my mind when my phone buzzes with a series of texts and photographs.
Frowning, I snatch the device off the nightstand, wondering why my Do Not Disturb isn’t on, then feel my heart plummet into my stomach.
Cleo’s name is splattered all over my screen.
Cleo: Gimme more money. Or I’m sending these to your parents.
Fresh images pop up, ones I didn’t even know were taken. There’s a photo of me making out with Cleo. It was a dare, and I figured a little kissing wouldn’t hurt anyone. We didn’t take it further than that, but I have vague memories of Nico and Simon cheering us on.
My parents won’t see it that way. The skimpy outfit I’m wearing, my tongue in another girl’s mouth? They won’t get that it was just a little college fun.
Because it wasn’t fun. You felt so incredibly uncomfortable, don’t you remember?
I played it off like it was my idea, but Cleo launched herself at me first.
The next image is me flashing the camera, my boobs on full display as I pull my shirt wide and let the camera see it all. My tongue is sticking out, and I have this wild, crazy look on my face.
That was at the heavy metal concert. I can’t even remember the name of the band. It was loud, crashing music that made my eardrums bleed, but I pretended that I loved it .
I swallow, feeling sick as another memory crashes through me, Simon pouring beer all over my chest, then licking it off. He thought it was the funniest thing in the world.
And yep… there’s the photo.
I’m laughing, totally intoxicated and barely aware of what I’m doing.
Shit. I was such a fool.
I thought my parents had me locked in this prison of academia and perfect appearances, but all I did was walk straight out of one cell and into another. I wasn’t happy leading this reckless life. I was terrified the whole time. Worried I’d get busted.
And I did.
I got myself into the worst kind of trouble, and it didn’t end when I got to Nolan.
Whoops. Forgot to mention those indiscretions to Wily. Better add it to the list.
Shit. There’s so much to confess.
My stomach starts to hurt as I plunk myself onto the edge of the bed, perching my heels on the frame and staring at those photos.
Cleo will send these to my parents if I don’t pay her off.
She’s obviously got a stockpile, and I will continue to be her prisoner until she runs out of them. Who knows if she’s even deleting them each time I pay her?
Probably not. She’s smarter than that.
I’m the stupid one who let her play me because I needed to become something else.
Letting out a shaky breath, I flick through those images, one after another. They’re so awful. If my parents see these with no explanation attached, they’ll be wrecked.
They’ll be wrecked either way. You’re not their little angel anymore.
And Cleo knows it, because I told her everything. She knows I’m a trust fund baby and that my family is loaded. She knows about my monthly allowance, which is more than what she earns in a year. Her bitter tone rings through my head.
That’s why she’s coming after me. Because she knows I’ll pay up.
Shit, she owns me.
And until I take her greatest threat away… she will always own me.
A cold shudder runs through my body. I’m so spent after my harrowing afternoon confession, but I’ll never be truly free until I endure one more.
“I really want to be free,” I whisper, my mind going back to the forest… to Grady.
I was free there.
I was happy.
I was… me .
“But they don’t know me.” I think about my family—my brother… my parents.
How were they ever supposed to when I kept putting on a show the way I did?
Am I seriously going to keep spending the rest of my life doing that?
Letting Cleo have this hold over me?
Letting myself be ruled by my parents’ expectations?
I may not know exactly what I want right now—but I do know that I don’t want that .
They’re gonna be horrified either way, but maybe if they hear the truth from me first, it’ll be easier for them to handle.
Just like… maybe if Grady and I had talked to Wily first, rather than him catching us, it would have been less traumatic for him.
Sniffing, I slash a tear off my cheek, and before another panic attack sets in for real, I dial my father’s number.
“Hello?” His voice is groggy, but the second he hears my pitiful whimper, he’s alert and saying my name. “Blakey? Bean, what’s wrong?”
“Is that Blake? Is she okay?” Mom’s voice pitches. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything yet?”
“Well, why not? Why is she calling us so late? Oh my gosh, is Wily okay?” Her voice quakes, panic obviously nipping at her.
“Calm down, Joanne. We need to let her speak. Blake, talk to me.”
I suck in a shaky breath, my chest shuddering when I release it. “I have to tell you guys something.”
“Is Wily okay?” Mom’s voice comes through loud and clear. She must have grabbed the phone off Dad and put it on speaker.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “He’s fine. Everything’s good with him.”
“Oh, thank God. I thought you were calling with some kind of knee emergency.” I can picture Mom patting her chest, then looking at the time. “Why aren’t you asleep? What are you doing calling us at this hour?”
“I, um…” With another sniff, I will my courage not to fa il me.
“I know I should have waited until morning, but I was worried that I’d chicken out.
And then I was worried Wily might call you.
And then…” My eyes fill with tears. “I mean now… I’m freaking out that you might get an email from someone named Cleo. ”
“Cleo.” Dad’s voice is gruff, confused. “Who’s Cleo?”
“She was my roommate.”
“No, your roommate’s Claire. We met her.”
“Yeah.” I let out a short, choking laugh. “That was Cleo pretending to be Claire.”
There’s a thick pause, and I can picture my parents looking at each other in confusion.
“We lied to you,” I confess in a tiny voice. “I’ve been lying to you for months.”
“Wh-what?” Mom sounds thunderstruck, and I force myself to keep going.
“Cleo’s not the sweet, good girl we led you to believe. She’s a total party animal, and she pulled me into her world. I let her.”
They take a second to absorb that.
“So…” Dad clears his throat. “So, you’ve been going to parties? Drinking? You’re underage.”
I sigh. “Yeah. I’ve been… I’ve been getting up to a lot of things I shouldn’t have.”
The stone-cold silence that follows that statement is harrowing. It’s tempting to hang up and get rid of my phone, but that won’t change the inevitable, right? I still have to get this shit out in the open.
“Okay.” Mom clears her throat before I can keep talking. “So, you’re telling us that the allowance we’ve been depositing into your account each month has been going toward illegal substances and a fake ID? ”
I cringe and bob my head, even though they can’t see me.
“You’ve been wasting your time and money,” she snaps. “How are you maintaining your grades?”
“I’m… I’m not.”
“So, you’re failing?” Dad barks.
“Yes,” I whisper. “And then… I withdrew.”
“What?” He obviously didn’t hear me, and I’m forced to say it again.
Clearing my throat, I suck in a breath and hit my parents with news I know will shatter them.
“They were going to give me an academic suspension because I haven’t been attending classes regularly, and then I…
I did something.” I suck in a sharp breath.
“I spray-painted a professor’s house, and they caught me.
I had no recourse, so I offered to pay for damages and withdraw from the school. I’m no longer a student. Anywhere.”
“Oh… my…” Mom’s voice pitches, and the rest of her sentence is lost to a soft wail.
“You…” Dad can’t comprehend it either. “You… you did what? You… Blake, I can’t believe this.”
“It’s all true, Dad.”
They don’t say anything after that, and I haven’t even told them about the shoplifting and Grady having to pick me up from the liquor store. Or how he had to take me to the hospital.
Shit. Grady.
Do I mention him too?
And what about the photos Cleo is threatening to send? Shit, I have to tell them about that.
Swallowing down what’s left of my tattered pride …
Pride? Are you kidding? You shed your dignity months ago. Just own it and move the fuck on!
Closing my eyes, I quickly rush out the rest. “Cleo’s threatening to send you some very upsetting photos unless I pay her off.
I’ve been doing it ever since I left Chicago.
and I realized tonight that if I don’t stop now, she’ll drain me dry.
I can’t keep letting her have this hold over me.
So…” I huff. “If you get an email from Cleo or Claire or whatever the hell she plans on calling herself, please ignore it. It’ll only upset you.
And if you can’t and you have to look, I’m sorry.
Okay? I’m sorry I couldn’t keep being the perfect little angel you thought I was.
I’m sorry I lost my mind and went completely crazy.
I’ve let you down. I know I’ve let you down, and I can’t take it back.
I’m sorry.” I whimper the last two words.
They’re still not saying anything, and I have to take it for what it is.
I’m not their golden girl anymore.
They can’t boast about me to their friends. I’m now the kid they have to avoid talking about at dinner parties.
I knew this would happen.
This is what I was so damn afraid of.
If I’m not their perfect performing monkey, then they have no need for me.
Covering my mouth, I wait for them to say something. Anything .
But all I get is a weeping sniff from Mom and a stony silence from Dad.
After a full minute, I can’t take it anymore.
So, before they can find the right words to say, I hang up .
I want to turn my phone off, but before I can do that, I have to send one last text to Cleo.
Send whatever the fuck you want. We’re done. You can’t own me anymore. Never contact me again.
As soon as the message goes through, I block her number, then switch off my phone.
It’s done.
I’m finally free of her.
And quite possibly my parents, although that part feels awful.
I knew I risked their disappointment, and that kept me silent all this time.
But who knows what they’re thinking or saying to each other right now.
I’m not their little angel anymore. That much I know for a fact.
I don’t know what the hell I am.