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“What?” I whimpered, suddenly having lost my fire.
“I want you so goddamn badly. I’ll wait. You’re eighteen in a week. It’s all over school about your celebration. One week. Please don’t do anything with Julian Murphy; I couldn’t bear it.”
“It’s not allowed, Parker,” I said, withdrawing my hand. My head dropped to the floor as his gaze was too intense.
He lifted my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “I’ll see you Monday. In class and afterwards.” He said, his voice choked with emotion.
“Class, yes. Afterwards, no. You were right. I don’t need any more tutoring.”
“Candy.” He wrung his hands.
“Leave me alone, Mr. Newell,” I said. “School’s out for the weekend.”
I ran up the steps and into my house.
On Monday, I skipped school, so I didn’t have to go to his English class. The rest of the week was a blur of last minute preparation for the party and all my spare time at school was filled between Larissa and Julian. Before I knew it, it was Friday once again.
I was now eighteen years old.
Chapter 8
Candy
I jumped out of bed and peeled back the curtains. I noticed that there was a large pink bow across the adjoining door between my room and what was now to be my closet. I pulled off the bow and pushed open the door and stood there looking at the sheer luxury of the interior of my new closet. Everything was split into sections for different pieces of clothing. There were large mirrors, a grand chandelier, and a rack that held my shoes. All my new purchases were hung along with other brand-new items. There was one section of the closet packed with totes and purses, all brand new. I stared at them: Chanel, Prada, Balenciaga.
My feet walked across the plush carpet as I stared at the rows. There was no doubt about it; my mother had outdone herself and, had my image been everything to me, I would have felt like I’d died and gone to heaven. However, though it was amazing, and the clothes and accessories seemed exactly my style, it was just dressing up. It was focused on the outside of me, and I thrived on focusing on the inside. “Candy, don’t be so ungrateful,” I said to myself. As I reached the end of my new closet, I saw another bow across a closet door. What on earth could be inside this one? I didn’t think there was anything I didn’t have. I pulled it open.
It wasn’t a closet door.
It was a fake closet door.
My mouth dropped open.
Through the fake door, was a library. There were bookshelves all around the room. My feet took on a mind of their own, and I ran around the periphery. Although a lot of the shelves were empty, I found first editions of many classics. Also in the room, there was a beautiful antique chinoiserie pedestal desk and an Edward Wormley chaise longue. The whole place was filled with massive vases of flowers and large balloons with ‘18’ on them. My mother’s interior design talent had brought my dreams to life.
My hand was across my mouth. I was speechless. Tears threatened to pour from my eyes. My mind whirled with emotions. I was overwhelmed, my senses spinning.
I dressed quickly in an Alexander Wang peplum shift dress I’d spotted hung in my new closet, slipped my feet into Sergio Rossi studded suede sandals and ran down the landing and staircase into the dining room where I threw my arms around first my mother and then my father.
“Oh my god, thank you so much,” I said to them. I was almost dancing around the room, and I didn’t care. My father for once did not have his head hidden behind a newspaper and I saw the table was decorated with the best china.
“Come. Sit for your birthday breakfast.” My mother reached for a glass. “Here, don’t tell school but it’s mimosa for breakfast made with Armand de Brignac gold champagne and fresh oranges from Union Square.”
; I took the glass, and my mom and dad raised their glasses. “Let’s raise a toast.” My father said. “To our beautiful eighteen-year-old daughter. We are so very proud of you sweetheart and hope you get everything in life you wish for.”
“I already had one of them granted this morning.” I beamed. “Mom, the closet is beautiful, but my library—there aren’t enough words to express how I feel about it.”
“Ironic given it’s a library.” My mom laughed. “It was your father’s idea. After I had shown him the closet, he said why didn’t we just continue through that part of the house. It worked out splendidly. We did consider carrying on further with a living area, but then I felt we’d never see you, so I vetoed that idea.”
“I have everything I need up there: my room, my closet, my library. I will make it downstairs for food and to see my parents.”
“Glad to hear it,” my father said. “Now, while we wait for our breakfasts, why don’t you open your other gifts.”
My father passed me a gold envelope. Inside was a store card for the largest bookstore in New York.
“Fill your shelves whenever you like. Any editions you would like them to search for, there’s the business card of their acquisitions person inside the envelope.”
