My future.
I slam the sketchbook shut, planning to burn the pages when I can find time, and drag a blank canvas from the closet. I set it on the easel, turning it a little where it faces the window, and then I stand there with my hands on my hips.
I’m glad that the secrets are out in the open between the four of us, but I feel like it’s even more complicated now. I don’t know how to feel, who to side with. I know that, really, I’ve already picked a side, but I hate to know what will happen when my mom finds out.
“Hey, babe,” Trixie says, shutting the door behind her and walking to her bed, kicking off her shoes. “Whatcha doing?”
I tilt my head to the side, staring at the stark white canvas in front of me, and sigh in frustration. “Trying to start my final portfolio piece to submit.”
“What do you have so far?”
“I have some sketches, some drawings with charcoal, and a sculpture that’s back home with my dad. But I wanted to paint something, show my diversity with the art mediums. I am drawing a blank though. I haven’t been able to think of anything.” I turn to look at her, narrowing my eyes. “Where have you been?”
“Oh, here and there.” She dodges my question, and I cock my head to the side.
“You don’t have to tell me, but if you are in trouble, I want to know. I want to help.”
Trixie has been gone for longer and longer periods. Missing classes and having me pick up homework. She won’t talk about it, but I figure it has something to do with what happened the summer after her freshman year. I get that I’m new here, but I’ve grown to like Trixie, and I want what’s best for her. Something tells me this isn’t what’s best for her as I look at her sunken eyes and hollow smile.
“I’m fine, Lan. Don’t worry about me.”
I nod and turn back to busy myself with pulling paints and my palette from the bags, where I carefully packed them away before moving. Thankfully, they weren’t in the third bag I left outside the day I moved. I never got my original uniforms back.
A knock at the door interrupts our comfortable silence, and I groan. Trixie shoots a weird look my way and goes to open the door, finding a box sitting on the floor.
“What’s this?” she asks as she sets it on my bed.
My name is written across the top in large block letters, like all the others, and I simultaneously itch to open it and want to throw it in the trash.
“Corbin has been sending me boxes,” I say.
Trixie’s head whips toward me, the surprise written all over her face. “Corbin? You two are talking again?”
I haven’t said anything about what happened with my mom or the guys after. In my defense, Trixie hasn’t been around much, and she’s keeping secrets herself.
“Not really. He wants to, but I’m not convinced. I guess that’s what these gifts are for—to convince me to give him a chance.”
“Gifts? As in more than one? What all has he given you?”
I step to the closet and bend down, pulling the box of gifts I have stashed there. I opened them, but I haven’t used any of the presents. That doesn’t mean I don’t look at them longingly every day. Trixie’s eyes widen as she looks at the overflowing box filled with art supplies, books, an iPad Pro with drawing capabilities, new state-of-the-art swimming goggles, and a gift certificate to get a new swimsuit. Not to mention all the random odds and ends that were fillers in the boxes. Chocolate, a note from Corbin to accompany every gift with a poem inside, and some candy.
You would think it would be cheesy, but it’s not. I love it all. And that’s the problem. He’s wanting to break down my walls, and it’s working, but I don’t want it to work. I don’t want sweet Corbin anymore. I need asshole Corbin back. The one who would ignore me and use me to get what he wanted. That would make it so much easier for me to hate him.
“I don’t know how he can afford it all,” I say with a shrug, setting the box beside her, watching as she rifles through it.
“What do you mean, you don’t know how he can afford it? Have you met his best friends? They have so much money that they probably use it to wipe their asses.”
“Everyone here has more money than they know what to do with.”
“The Montgomerys have three times the money that anyone else here has. But it is weird that they would give him money to buy you stuff.” She looks up at me, and once she sees my face, she throws up her hands. “Oh, come on. Everyone here knows they don’t like you. Why do you think I’m your only friend?”
I wasn’t thinking that at all. It just dawned on me that maybe they feel bad.
Could Brock and Bodhi truly feel remorse for what they did to me? It doesn’t seem likely.
“I’m sure Corbin didn’t tell them what it was for,” I say, acting nonchalant. But part of me wonders if it’s an apology to me, for believing I was stealing from them.
“Either way, these gifts are nice. What’s keeping you from giving him a chance?” Trixie lies back on her bed, crossing her stockinged feet and hugging a pillow to her chest. Her short blonde hair fans out around her face, making her look young and girlish, even with her current expression of sadness.
“I opened myself up to him, and I got burned. He made me feel special, and then once he got what he wanted, he left.”
“It doesn’t look like he got everything he wanted.”
“Well, sometimes, you can realize things too late.” I fiddle with my comforter as I sit down, tucking my legs underneath me. “I want to give him a chance, but my heart hurts. I told him I needed time. I need to heal. There’s been a lot going on, not just with him, and I’m confused, lonely, and maybe a little lost.”
“What else is going on?” She raises her head a little to look at me, and then she turns on her side, propping herself up on her elbow.
I wrestle with myself, not wanting to divulge how ashamed I am of my family. But the urge to talk it through with someone who has been there for me since the start of school wins out.
I tell her everything that happened, all the details that I left out before the yacht trip and then everything that happened after with my meeting with my mom to the bomb that Brock, Bodhi, and Corbin dropped on me. She listens with rapt attention, inserting shocked gasps where necessary, and I appreciate having her to lean on. Once I’m done, she sits up, mirroring my position with her legs tucked under her, and leans forward.
“Damn, Landry. That’s …” She trails off.
I let out a sigh. “I know. I can’t get past the fact that Corbin knew the whole time. He explained why he did it, but it doesn’t change the hurt inside me, you know?”
“Yeah, I understand more than you think. Except I think my situation is the complete opposite.”
“What do you mean?”
Trixie stares out the window for a while, and I stay silent, not wanting to push her. When she looks back at me, there’s a lone tear trailing down her cheek.
“Oh, babe. Forget I asked. You don’t have to tell me anything.” I hop off my bed and climb up beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“No, I want to. I think it might help unburden me a little,” she says with a sniffle.