Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s right.
I don’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to this, and I’m angry with my mom over it.
How dare she do this to me!
I don’t want her to go to prison, but I’m not feeling any sort of bond with her anymore. She’s selfish and wrong.
I sit back in the chair with a sigh, clasping my hands together, and look Brock in the eyes. “What do you want to know?”
We spend the next hour going back and forth between Brock interrogating me and Corbin stepping in when he gets a little too, shall we say, passionate. When all is said and done, we agree for me to meet with my mom again, this time recording our conversation, trying to get everything on tape. From there, Brock will hopefully consult with his lawyers and dad to draw up a plea deal for Mom, where she can leave with her dignity intact and not with her hands in cuffs.
All in all, it’s more than I thought she would get.
I rake a hand through my hair once everything is decided, sitting back in the chair and taking a few deep breaths.
“Can I head back to my room?” I ask, standing and stretching a little.
“I’ll walk you,” Corbin says, stepping forward, and Bodhi snorts.
We both ignore him. I’m still angry with Corbin, but I nod and grab my box of Alfredo from the desk.
“Ready,” I say. I turn to Brock and Bodhi. “I know we’ve had our differences. And I see your side of things. But I still won’t forgive what you did to me during the assembly. However, call a truce, and I will help you.”
Bodhi jumps up from the bed he moved to once he was done smoking in the windowsill. “Truce, lil sis,” he says with a smile before wrapping me in a hug.
I’m stiff, and it feels foreign, but I think we are on the right track now. Brock gives me a chin up, respect in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. These twins are night and day, but at least they are true to themselves. So, I’m going to be true to myself.
I turn and walk out the door, Corbin so close to me that I can feel his body heat. I stop suddenly, and he bumps into me.
“You can walk beside me. You don’t have to be a shadow,” I say, looking over my shoulder at his face that is right there. So close that I could turn around and capture his lips with mine. But I don’t. I smile to myself when I feel him move up, walking with his elbow touching mine. “I’m mad at you,” I tell him.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “I know.”
We continue to my dorm in silence.
We get to the door, and I turn, craning my neck back to look into his beautiful eyes. I fidget with the Styrofoam box, making it crinkle underneath my fingers.
“Let me make it up to you,” he says. “Let me take you out on a date.”
“Corb,” I say, feeling strange when I realize this is the first time I’ve ever shortened his name. I lick my lips and start again. “Corbin, how do I know this is real? That you aren’t doing it out of a sense of duty to your friends?”
“I didn’t want to, Landry. You have to believe me.”
“But you did it.”
He doesn’t speak for a bit, just sticks his hand up to rub the back of his neck.
“We didn’t know. None of us did. We weren’t sure how involved you were with things, and I have a lot riding on this.”
“You have a lot riding on this?” I can’t believe he’s trying to justify how he lied to me and tried to trick me.
“This isn’t coming out right at all,” he says with a groan.
He shuffles one foot, and I stare at him, waiting for him to explain. He’s not getting the easy way out here.
“I like you, Landry,” he says.
“Could’ve fooled me,” I snap back, not wanting him to play the sweet card.
Fight with me. Don’t give up.
“I do. I’ve felt a pull toward you since the moment we met. That’s why, that first day, I left without speaking to you. I knew what Brock and Bodhi thought was going on with your mom, and I couldn’t get involved with someone doing illegal things. Not when I want to eventually get custody of my brother. But I had to be on their side. I still have to be.”
“Why? Why is there even a side?”
“You are her daughter. Why would you think there weren’t sides?”
“I wish you had come to me with the information first.”
“I couldn’t risk it, Landry. They are my best friends, and I need their help.”
“That’s what this is about,” I spit out. “Their money and connections. You need their help, so you choose them.”
“I chose them because it’s been us three for the last three and a half years. I hardly had anyone growing up, so when I had a chance to have friends, friends who have become more like family, I took that chance, and I’m not going to do anything to fuck it up.”
I deflate at his words. I know what’s riding on this, what weighs him down. He’s only spoken of it briefly, but I can tell how much his brother means to him. It’s written all over his face.
“Even so, I have a lot to think about. I can’t focus on whatever it is we have or don’t have right now. I’m angry, and I need time.” I take a step back, my heart bursting at the look on his face.
I had no idea he even cared this much. But I can’t break right now. I have to remain strong, and if it takes distancing myself, I’ll do it. It’s not like I haven’t before.
“Just give me another chance, Landry. I can make it up to you.”
“I’ve made up my mind. It’s not a no forever, just for right now.”
“Don’t you realize that when your mom goes, you go? We might not have forever.”
His words cause my breath to catch in my throat, and I gasp a little.
What’s going to happen to me now?
“I need time,” I repeat firmly even though my head is spinning with his words stuck on repeat.
“We might not have forever.”
21
Landry
Over the next week, a new box is delivered to my door almost every single day after school. There’s never a name attached, but I know who they are from. The first one I opened had top-of-the-line art supplies in it. Canvases, sketchpads, acrylic paints, watercolors, and they were all expensive. I looked up prices on the new phone I finally received, gasping when I saw the dollar amount connected to it.
He doesn’t have that kind of money to spend on me.
I can’t help but be impressed though. They might be expensive, but they are thoughtful. They are things I would want and things that benefit my end goal. To become an artist—something I’ve dreamed of my entire life. But I seem to have lost sight of it these days, which is weird since my portfolio is all I’ve lived and breathed during the past three years. I’ve been working toward entering an art institute, and I know that I have to be a cut above the rest, but everything I do seems to fall below average in my eyes. I’ve sculpted, painted, and sketched, unable to focus on one medium to present.
I open my sketchpad, flipping through pages. The haunting images stare back at me. Even though I don’t want to admit it, the proof is in these pages, holding the likeness of Corbin on every page I’ve worked on. I cringe as I think about the idiot I’ve been, mooning over a boy when I should be focusing on what’s important.