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One of the men grabs my mother’s arm. She wrenches it out of his grasp and we both stumble backward. “Don’t you dare touch me,” she says and then, with my arm still in her grasp, she walks down the stairs.
The long hem of her sequined green dress hisses as it drags behind us on the marble floor. When we reach the bottom of the stairs, she finally drops my arm. She runs nervous hands over her dress and looks down at me and gives me what I think is supposed to be a brave smile. But I can see the humiliation in her eyes. “We will leave through the same door we came in through,” she says and then walks toward the front of the house.
“No, that door is for guests. Take them out through the back,” Snakehead calls from her dais at the top of the stairs. They grab our arms. I try to shake loose and my mother grabs my hand and squeezes it.
“Let’s not make a scene. They aren’t worth it.” She nods toward the small crowd of people who have gathered outside of the huge ballroom to our left. I nod and we allow ourselves to be turned and marched down the hall in the opposite direction.
Once we’re outside and alone, I finally find the voice to speak.
“Mama, what happened?”
“They think they’re better than us. That’s all. Let’s just go.”
We’re both silent on the walk down their seemingly endless driveway, back to the street back to where we parked her car. Halfway there, I look back at the house that looms over Rivers Wilde from its perch at the top of the hill. In a second-story window on the left side of the house where the library is, I see the shadow of a boy watching us leave.
Remi.
And it’s only then I realize my arms are empty. I start to tell my mother I left my notebook, but I know that would only annoy her and that there would be no going back to get it. But then when I think that maybe he’ll find it and keep it… a part of the knot that has made a permanent home in my gut unfurls.
Just a little.
I’m not sure I’ll ever see him again, but I know I’ll never forget him. And just thinking that he might have a piece of me makes me feel like someone sees me. I’ll write both of our happy endings as soon as I get a new notebook. And I know he’ll be in the version I write for myself.
2
BAE WATCH
REMI
Four Years Later
“Remington, wake up.” My mother’s not so gentle nudge shakes me out of a deep, dreamless sleep. I sit up slowly. “What time is it?” I grope my bedside table for my alarm clock and groan when I see the time.
“Get your brother and sister up and tell them to be downstairs in fifteen minutes. I want to have a family meeting before your grandfather wakes up.” My mother draws the curtain and sunlight floods my room. She doesn’t say another word as she stalks out, and she doesn’t wait for me to respond. She knows there’s only one answer I’d dare give.
I stumble down the hall, bleary-eyed and wake my twin sister, Regan, up first. I tell her Mom wants to see us in five minutes. Regan can’t do anything in five minutes, but maybe if I tell her five, she’ll actually be down there in fifteen.
I get my brother Tyson out of bed and wait until he’s walking to the bathroom before I head back to my own room and get ready. I dress for the day because I know that whatever else happens, I won’t be going back to bed. I have a delivery to make in an hour, anyway.
“Good, you’re all here.” My mother strides into the kitchen exactly fifteen minutes after she walked into my room.
“Morning,” we all mutter back in unison. She doesn’t say another word until she slides into her chair at the head of the table. That’s my grandfather’s chair. At least I know it’s going to be a quick talk. He’ll be down at no later than eight fifteen and he’s got a thing about anyone sitting in that chair.
“We’ve got a situation.” She takes a long sip of her coffee and then passes a sweeping, calculating gaze over me and my siblings.
Impatience makes my throat tight.
“Mom?” Regan, my twin, asks in that way she has of sounding excited when really she’s just as annoyed as I am.
“A family of criminals has just moved to Rivers Wilde,” she says and pauses to look at us as if for dramatic effect.
I share a glance with my brother, Tyson, and I know we’re thinking the same thing. I can’t believe I got out of bed for one of my mother’s gossip-fueled rants. She normally saves those for dinner.
“Okay… what did they do? Wear white after Labor Day? Put their fork on the right side of their place mat?” Tyson quips. My mother rewards him with a glare so frosty he chokes on his laughter and coughs. He drops his eyes to the table to avoid my smirk.
My mother is the self-appointed leader of the Rivers Wilde Decorum and Etiquette Committee. She takes that position as seriously as she does her role as head of Wilde World’s Restaurant and Dining Division.
“No, they broke the law,” she says and looks at us to gauge our reactions. Our blank stares disappoint her and she sneers. “Did you hear me?”
