Chapter 3
Briggs
“Where have you been?” my father demands when I walk in the house at ten. He’s still in his suit, but his tie is undone, hanging loose around his neck.
“I had practice,” I say, going past him.
He grabs my arm, yanking me back. “It’s ten o’clock. Where the fuck have you been?”
I look into his bloodshot eyes and smell the liquor on his breath. I hate when he’s drunk. I should’ve come in through the back door and snuck up to my room.
“I went to a coffee shop to study.”
“You’re lying,” he huffs. “You don’t even drink coffee.”
“They have other drinks. And I went with a friend. She wanted to go there and I didn’t want to argue about it.”
“What friend?” he asks, eyeing me with suspicion.
Shit. What do I say? He knows all my friends and he knows we don’t study together.
“She’s not really a friend. She’s my lab partner. We had to meet to go over an assignment.”
He stares at me, trying to tell if I’m lying. When he’s drunk, he always thinks I’m lying, even when I’m telling the truth.
“Who is she? What’s her name?”
“Ella,” I blurt out. It’s the first name that came to my mind. “Ella Quinn.”
“Quinn.” He pauses a moment. “The people who live in the trailer?”
It’s not a trailer but I’m not going to argue about it.
My father hates Ella’s house, saying it’s an eyesore that should be torn down.
When my mom moved out and he bought this house, which is just a couple miles down from the Quinn house, my dad went to city council and demanded they force Ella’s dad to sell the house to the city so they could tear it down.
It never happened and he’s still furious it’s there.
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“How the hell did you get stuck with her?”
I shrug. “The teacher assigned the partners. I didn’t get to pick.”
He rubs his jaw, watching me but not saying anything.
“I’m going to bed.” I go around him to the stairs.
“Did I say you were excused?” he asks.
I walk back to him, my muscles tightening as my anger builds. Can’t he go one fucking day without yelling at me? Without telling me what a fuck-up I am?
“Did you talk to your advisor?” he asks.
“I didn’t have a chance.” I look away, not wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes. It’s all I ever see when I look at him — disappointment. In me. His only son, who can’t seem to do anything right.
“I asked you to do one thing today. One . And you couldn’t manage to do the one thing that I asked?” He circles around me, rubbing his jaw. “Why is that, son? Did I not make myself clear?”
“You did, but she wasn’t there today. She took the day off.”
He stops in front of me. “That’s funny, because I called your school this morning and spoke with Ms. Whittaker myself, so I can assure you, she was very much there.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck .
“The office secretary told me she wasn’t. She must’ve made a mistake.”
“I doubt that.” He steps closer, looking down at me. He’s six-four, but at six-two, I’m catching up. I’m hoping I keep growing so I can be the one staring down at him.
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow. I promise.”
He grabs my shirt, yanking me toward him. “What have I told you about lying to me?”
“You said not to do it.”
“And yet you did. You know what that means, don’t you?”
Before I can answer, the back of his hand slams against my face, throwing my head to the side. My skin burns and pain shoots through my cheekbone from his class ring. I swear he only wears it so it’ll hurt more when he hits me.
I stand there, waiting for this to be done.
Fighting back will just result in punishments.
He’ll take away my car, then my spending account.
I’m not willing to give all that up, not when I’m so close to being done with this.
May isn’t that far away and then I’ll be out of here.
I just need to get through a few more months.
“May I be excused?” I ask.
He lets me go and paces the long open foyer, shaking his head. “Since you didn’t do as I asked and talk to Ms. Whittaker, I asked her myself about your current status. It seems you’re not first in your class, but second. Were you aware of that?”
“No, but I’ll make sure I’m number one by the end of the semester.”
“You don’t have a choice. We had a deal.”
The deal is that he’ll give me the car if I’m valedictorian.
It’s a limited edition, custom designed Porsche worth $290,000 and my ticket to freedom from this hellhole.
Once the car is mine, I’ll sell it and use the money to move away and live on my own.
I’ll never have to see or talk to my father ever again, and I won’t have to spend my life working for his company.
So yeah, I wasn’t lying when I told Ella I need to be valedictorian. If she ends up coming in second, she’ll still have her freedom, but if I do? I’ll be chained to this bastard forever.
“I know what has to be done,” I say. “I won’t let you down.”
“It’s not just me you’ll be letting down, but all the Chadwicks who came before you.
” His eyes lock on mine. “The Chadwick men don’t stand for second place.
We don’t lose. We do everything in our power to win.
” He takes hold of my chin, squeezing it as he lifts my face up to his.
“Your grandfather and I were valedictorian and at the top of our class at Stanford. We expect you to do the same. You understand that, don’t you? ”
“Yes,” I say, gritting my teeth.
“I’ve already told my colleagues and many of my friends that you’ll be valedictorian. Your mother has done the same. It would be an embarrassment to us all if you didn’t follow through.” He lets go of my face and steps back, folding his arms over his chest. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know what you’re asking.”
“The person ahead of you. The person ranked first in your class. Who is it? Ms. Whittaker wouldn’t tell me. She said it’s confidential.”
“I don’t know,” I say, not wanting to tell him it’s Ella. He’d kick the shit out of me if he knew I was being beaten by a girl, especially the girl who lives in the trailer-like house that still stands despite his efforts to tear it down. “It’s a competitive school. Could be anyone.”
“Find out,” he says, glaring at me. “Then do whatever you have to.”
He means find a way to take out the competition, even if it means doing something that’s wrong or illegal. My father will do anything to get ahead — cheat, lie, steal. He’s done that and more, driven by a need to protect the Chadwick name and the financial prosperity that comes with it.
His phone rings, and he takes it from his pocket. “It’s your mother,” he says, answering it. “Yes, Margo, what is it?” He motions for me to go upstairs.
I go up to my room and slam the door, wanting to punch something, or scream, or jump out the fucking window.
I hate living here, especially with my mom gone.
She moved to Italy a little over a year ago after she and my dad decided they’d rather live apart than get divorced.
My mom said she couldn’t take living with him anymore and had to leave.
She didn’t seem to care that I was stuck living with him, but she also doesn’t know that he hits me.
She thinks his abuse is all verbal, and she doesn’t call it abuse.
She calls it strict parenting. She says it’s good for me to spend time with my father, except that we don’t spend time together.
He’s always at the office, and when he’s not, he’s here telling me what a disappointment I am and how I need to do better.
What the fuck am I going to do? Even if I get an A on every test, I won’t be able to beat Ella. She gets all A’s and does extra credit shit on top of it.
With rugby and all the hours I spend working out at the gym I don’t have time to do extra credit, which means my only option is to play dirty.
I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that. Despite all the shit I’ve put her through over the years — the bullying, the threats, looking the other way when my girlfriend’s being a bitch to her — Ella’s never done anything to me.
She somehow rises above it all, which I have to say is impressive.
But there can only be one winner here, and it can’t be her.
Sorry, Ella, but this is how it has to be.
* * *
The next day at school, I see Ella at her locker, checking her phone.
Last chance, I text. What’s it going to be?
She looks up, searching the hall for me. She doesn’t see me and looks back at her phone.
A text pops up on mine. Go to hell.
She obviously doesn’t understand the power I have to ruin her life. I don’t want to do it, but she’s leaving me no choice.
“Hey.” Parker stops next to me, his dark hair flopping in his eyes. I wish he’d cut his damn hair. He shaves the sides but leaves it long on top and is always pushing it off his forehead, which, for some reason, annoys the shit out of me. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” I turn to him. “You see Finn today?”
“Not yet. Why?”
I’d planned to use both Parker and Finn in my plan against Ella but I’m not sure I want Finn involved in this.
The guy can go psycho sometimes, like when he almost killed a guy at a party last summer.
The guy was hitting on the girl Finn was trying to get so Finn threw him on the ground and started strangling him.
I yanked him away before the guy either passed out or died.
Finn was drunk, but still, he has a dark side that gets out of control.
I do too, but I’d like to think I’m better able to control it, although that’s debatable.
“I need you to do something,” I say to Parker as I watch Ella go down the hall. What the fuck is she wearing? It looks like she took one of her dad’s t-shirts and made it into a dress by tying a belt around the waist. The girl is so fucking strange, and she wonders why people make fun of her.
“What are you staring at?” Parker asks, looking down the hall.
“Ella Quinn.”
He laughs. “Why? You decide to go after her again?”