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I walk through the halls of WJ Prep feeling better than ever. Nothing around here has ever felt this consistently normal, and for the first time I almost feel like my old self again, the way I did before I came to Jameson. Only better. Because now I have Emmett.
I’ve spent the past month catching up on my college applications. The essay questions were ridiculous, wanting to know all about what has shaped me in life, what struggles I’ve faced. Obstacles I’ve overcome. I didn’t know what to say. The hell WJ Prep has put me through is indescribable, and not something I can talk about in an essay. But it has made me who I am. Enough that I know I deserve a track scholarship, because I have proven to myself that I can push through any kind of pain. The fact that I’m still here and with Emmett proves that I don’t give up, and that I can work my ass off and persevere. Instead, I wrote about my mom and Brendan, and how they taught me what it means to work hard, and about how I wouldn’t be where I am without their love and support, which is true. But it’s only half the story.
It’s the last day of school before winter break, and there’s a tingling of excitement in the air. All of the students are high on an adrenaline rush of expectation, with two weeks of sleeping in and partying to look forward to. The teachers are being especially lax, and classes are flying by like a breeze.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Emmett’s voice rings out to me from behind my locker. I slam it shut and fly into his arms for a long kiss, relishing in the softness of his lips against mine.
“Hey, handsome,” I hum with smile. “Are you excited?”
“For the concert tonight.” He nods and grins. “You have no idea.”
“I don’t think it can beat the Ferris wheel.” I shrug. “But we’ll see.”
He laughs. “Oh, it’ll beat the Ferris wheel. Just you wait. You’re gonna love these guys.”
We continue down the hall, arm in arm, as envying students watch us pass. The Elites aren’t back in full force yet, but we know they’re coming. Liam and Malcolm will make sure of that. And since they’re coming back at everyone who shut them out before, they’ll do so with a vengeance. One we’re not looking forward to.
But for now, we’re trying to enjoy the quiet, doing all of the normal teenage things we’ve been denied these past few months—things I think Emmett has been denied his entire life. He hasn’t lost his temper once since the night we left his family at the Hendersons. I know his heart is broken, but overall, I think it’s a relief to be free from the pressure of his father’s legacy.
All this time I have wanted things to go back to how they were before I came to WJ Prep, but suddenly I realize I am happier with the way everything turned out. I always thought I was tough, but nothing could have made me stronger than what I have experienced these past few months.
And while some couples may have had a road a lot less bumpy than Emmett and me, I can’t imagine any obstacle we can’t withstand together at this point. We are stronger than I ever thought we could be.
Malcolm, of course, got off on any charges relating to Coach Granger’s son, just like I knew he would. His father’s expensive lawyers stepped in and argued that everything was Lily’s idea and that they couldn’t be blamed for what his son chose to do with the drugs they left for him. Even with Coach Granger’s police contacts, the case was open and shut.
Coach Granger and I had a chance to sit down and talk about
everything that happened. He wasn’t happy that the charges against Malcolm went nowhere, but mostly he was just glad that he tried. It brought him some sense of peace, knowing what happened with his son. I told him I felt relentlessly guilty, thinking none of that would have happened if it hadn’t been for me, but he made me promise to let go of my guilt, swearing that his son’s addiction was one of his family’s biggest weaknesses. The Elites prey on people’s weaknesses, and if it hadn’t been for my situation, they would have struck out in the same way the moment it became convenient for some reason or another.
Lily, however, was not so lucky. Thanks to Malcolm’s lawyers, the same logic was applied to her case and she escaped criminal charges. But the psychological evaluations she underwent didn’t make her parents very confident of her mental health and ability to return to normal life. They put her up in a prestigious facility where she has to stay for “rest.”
Vivian transferred to an expensive private school in New York with her aunt. Judging by her social media, the change has been good for her. She’s thriving in the big city as some kind of trendy fashionista, and doesn’t seem nearly as angry and miserable as she once did in Jameson.
With things back to a sense of normalcy, I’ve been able to refocus on my running career. I’ve applied for all of the top schools, and Coach has been welcoming scouts to our track meets from every one of them. He’s confident I’ll have several scholarship options to choose from, most from some of the best athletic coaches in the field.
Emmett and I race through the cold to the warmth of his car after school. A fresh snow has just fallen, and the campus has been transformed. The blinding, pure white glow all around brings me hope that maybe when we return in January, the Elites won’t come at us with the force we’re expecting. But mostly, I try not to think about any of it at all.
The weather in Massachusetts is beautiful, especially in Jameson. It’s a small enough town with a historic square in the middle that gets decorated with lights, greenery, and bright red bows every November, and stands through the holidays. It all looks so beautiful with the snow and the sparkling salt on the cobblestone sidewalks. It’s so scenic that horse-drawn carriages park in wait for people who want to pay to ride around.
The orange and red autumn leaves have shriveled to dried, brown, crunchy dead things that are frozen and buried deep beneath the snow. In some places where the snow has turned to slush from cars or foot traffic, you can see the black mush of the soggy thawing leaves underneath. It’s a gross contrast to the pure white snow, and a reminder that just beneath the beautiful surface of everything winter has brought, there are remnants of the fall still lurking. Secrets and bad memories that will inevitably surface in the spring.
I have a newfound gratitude for my family. I always knew that they were loving and supportive in ways other kids at WJ Prep did not seem to have at home. But now my appreciation has only grown since I’ve seen the cruelty of Emmett’s family in full force. The sting of what they did isn’t just that they forced Emmett to sign over everything he had inherited, it’s more about how they went about it—lying and tricking him into thinking they were in danger to try and make it look like he was mentally unstable just for caring about where they were and if they were okay.
Emmett and I have spent a lot of time listening to music in his motel room. One of us always plays something on our phones before we make love. Both of us like brooding, sad songs, and the band Emmett wants to take me to see has a heartbreaking, sort of ethereal sound to it. But lately we have both taken to listening to happier songs. Anything to help build the momentum of how we’ve been feeling. Maybe if things can feel happy and simple for just long enough, we won’t completely crumble when the next wave of the Elites’ drama strikes.
Emmett has been spending a lot of time with my family, and he has just enough money to keep his room at the motel for a little while longer. My mom knows something happened at his home that is making him come around so much, but explaining it requires so much backstory that I’m not ready to give her just yet. But sooner or later, he will have to figure something out for money. What little bit his mom left him won’t last much longer, and I hate her for putting him in that position. He never had time to think about what he might want to do with his life when he was growing up because it was always planned out for him. Now all of that has been taken away, and he has to decide all at once while he is starting over again from scratch.
The snowflakes cling to my cheeks and melt against my warm skin, getting caught in my eyelashes. I love seeing them accumulate in Emmett’s curls, reflecting in Emmett’s gray eyes. His cheeks blush from the cold, rounding out around his playful smirk. I like seeing him this way. He looks happy.
He catches me by the door and brings himself close enough to pin me to the car. He grips my face and brings my eyes to his, lingering for a moment before pressing his lips to mine, urging my mouth open with his tongue. I moan into his kiss, suddenly feeling burning hot even in the snow.
“I’ve got plans for you later tonight,” he warns.
“Oh, yeah?” I smile devilishly.
He swoops his mouth over mine again, biting at my bottom lip with always the perfect amount of roughness. Enough to keep me on my toes and keep me burning for no one else but him. The kind of roughness I never expected I would like, but that he does so well.
The cold air carries with it a new hope. A hope for these unexpected changes, and that they can somehow work out better than we ever planned. While what happened to Emmett seems awful, we both know things might be better this way. Before, he only had one possible path in front of him that he just had to make the best of. Now he has the opportunity to do anything he wants. I call tell the crash of choices scares him, but it’s exciting at the same time. The hope of possibility. And while I promised I didn’t care if things with him weren’t easy, the hope of it all being simpler in the future is refreshing.
