He knows something.
Mrs. Tate walks in, closing the door behind her. Right when I think I’m doing the presentation myself, the door flies open and in walks a dismantled girl. Messy blonde hair with flyaways going in every direction, something Blakely would never allow. A pair of black velour leggings and a matching zip up hoodie. Her pale natural skin is almost lifeless. Bags under her eyes that shoot in my direction. I turn away quickly on impulse. Everyone watches as she shuffles between the desks toward her seat, directly behind me. No cocky comment, no self-absorbed eyeroll that screams I’m better than you.
Good. Seeing her misery brings good company to mine.
“I’m glad you could join us, Blakely. While you’re still standing, you and Jasper can present your Greek mythology project first.”
I stand up, grabbing the notecards that Blakely and I made together, taking her half and holding them out to her without looking. I toss mine back down on the desk and proceed to the front of the class.
“Don’t you need those?” She asks under her breath.
I don’t respond, I just keep on my path, until I’m facing the class.
Blakely begins by introducing our project. Her sassy tone, now a frail one as she reads directly from the cards, not even glancing up once. Her confidence taking a backseat with her glamorous upkeep.
When it’s my turn, she looks at me apprehensively. Unsure what I will say without my notecards.
“As my delightfully honest partner just explained, Cassiopeia is a constellation in the northern sky that was named after Queen Cassiopeia. What she failed to mention,” I turn to Blakely, “is that the queen was undeniably vain. She thought the sun rose and set on her and that her beauty could blind the eye of any soul who dared look at her. Her arrogance and boastfulness, ultimately, lead to her downfall.”
I turn back to the class and begin pacing the front row. “I think we can all agree that we know someone like that. Someone who thinks they are too good for the truth, that their beauty alone can pay for their sins. Unfortunately, whoever crossed paths with the queen was doomed. Because of her vanity, all the people in her land were plagued by a flood that destroyed many lives.” I swing around to face Blakely. “But, not yet hers. Her time was coming, though. Little did she know that her fate was in the hands of Poseidon, and for the rest of eternity, she would be tied to a chair in the heavens and spend her days hanging upside down. We can call this her torture chair.”
The class is silent. Not a word spoken, not even from Mrs. Tate.
It’s Blakely’s turn to wrap things up. Only she doesn’t. She chokes on a couple of words, before looking at me.
So, I close it out for us.
“In conclusion, Cassiopeia paid—and she will continue to pay, because every choice has an echo. She may think she was a queen who was too good for everyone else, that she was untouchable, unbreakable. In reality, though, she was just a royal bitch.”
A few gasps fill the room, a couple jaws drop, with a few claps and laughter.
“Mr. Scott!” Mrs. Tate huffs, “Please take your seat.”
I bite back a smile as I walk to my desk, leaving Blakely bewildered.
I think we got an A.
Blakely held her head high for the rest of class. I give her props, she even stuck it out the rest of the day. Even when she watched me fondle Petra in the hallway. Watching this girl choke on her lies is getting more and more fulfilling.
I’m standing at my locker before last period when I catch her out of the corner of my eye. Without making it obvious that I see her, I watch as Levi walks over to her side. They share a couple of words before she falls into his arms. She glances over his shoulder, and our eyes meet when I screw up and let her catch them. I try my hardest to turn away, so fucking hard, but I can’t.
The pain in her icy blue eyes tries to suck me again. All the while being wrapped up in his arms. My blood burns under my skin and rises in my cheeks, I grip the broken pencil in my hand so hard that I feel the sharp point of the lead pierce my skin.
She breaks our stare and buries her face in his shoulder before he whispers something in her ear that makes her laugh. That’s enough to do it. She shouldn’t be laughing; she should be feeling as much hurt as I do. I slam my locker shut and walk past them, purposely bumping into Levi.
“Watch it, asshole,” Levi spits.
I swing around, and in one swift motion, I have Levi pinned to his locker. “What did you say?” I grit through my clenched teeth.
“I said, watch it asshole,” He snaps, unaffected by my hold on him. “Now get your fucking hands off me before I lay you flat on this floor.”
Blakely attempts to pull me back, but I shake her off. “Stop it, you two. Let him go, Jasper,” she whimpers.
“I’d fucking bury you. Now stay the hell out of my way.” I give him a shove with the release of my hands and turn to walk away.
I stop in front of the doorway of class when my phone vibrates in my back pocket. I pull it out and read the message that flashes across the screen.
Showtime.
I spin around and head back in the direction I came. Blakely and Levi are gone, the halls are almost empty. I throw my books in my backpack and pull out my keys.
I’ve got important business to take care of.
Pulling up to the Porter house feels surreal. I once called the house next door home for a brief period of time. I have no intention of returning. The steps that I’m now walking up once sent quivers through my stomach with the anticipation of seeing Blakely. I never could have guessed I’d be walking through this door with demands.
Before I can even bring my hand up to knock, the front door swings open. Without a word, Mr. Porter steps to the side, allowing my entrance.
“Thanks for coming, Jasper,” he says, as he closes the door behind us.
“Cut the shit. I’m going to tell you exactly what I want and exactly how I want it, then I never want to smell your whiskey tarnished breath again.”
“Fair enough.” He nods. He’s finally catching on to the fact that there is no way out of this except through my requests. If he ever wants to live a life outside of prison, he will give me exactly what I want.
“Let’s talk in my study.” He begins down the corridor. Walking through the kitchen, we pass Esme who has her head hung down, avoiding eye contact. Knowing how he treats his own children, I can only imagine how he treats the soft spoken housekeeper.
I follow behind him as we enter a large room with a vintage feel. Old books stacked along the wall. A mini bar in the corner—not surprising. A large cherry oak desk that wouldn’t even fit in my old bedroom. He tilts his head to an empty chair as he walks behind the desk and takes a seat. Grabbing a cigar, he positions it between his teeth.
“Alright. Talk,” he demands.
“First of all, I want to know my dad’s place in all of this. When did he find out? How did he find out?” This is important information, the most important. I need to know why Dad kept this from me. The next words that Mike Porter speaks hold the fate of mine and Dad’s relationship.
“Your dad is a good man, Jasper.” He takes the cigar between his thumb and index finger, pointing it at me. “Everything he did was for you.”
“That’s not what I asked.” My jaw clamps down in annoyance. I can already tell that this is going to be a merry-go-round of half answered questions. “You murdered my mom, you fucking asshole. Now answer the damn question.”