“And he followed through on his threats,” I guess.
“Big time.” He picks at a fray on his jeans, eyes fixed to the thread. “I’ve only seen her twice since then. She got her GED, and I think she’s taking some college classes. Community college, not Duke or Wake Forest like she wanted.”
I watch him, frowning. “Is she still with the girl?”
“No, I don’t think so.” He wraps the thread around a long finger and pulls, fingertip going white. “She’s too stubborn to come back, and for a long time, I blamed her. I mean, why would she give up everything for some stupid summer fling? But I was twelve. I’m eighteen now, and I get it.”
“Because it wasn’t about the girl,” I guess, stretching out my legs.
He hums, head shaking. “It was about our father being a controlling asshole. He’s a dictator. There’s only one way to do things: his way. And Hollis…” He reaches up to scratch at the raspy stubble covering his chin, eyes pensive. “She didn’t walk because my dad wouldn’t let her date the townie. I don’t think it was even because he wouldn’t let her date girls. She left because she knew my dad wanted to control every single factor in her life. The girl was just her line in the sand. If she couldn’t be who she was—be with who she wanted to be with—then in a sense, nothing could ever really be hers. And what good is any of it—the money, the success, the legacy—if it never really belongs to you?”
I watch him for a long moment, the shadow of something thoughtful and acrid darkening his features. “That really sucks, Bates. I’m sorry.”
His gaze jumps to mine,
shuttering. “Yeah, I guess that’s my real legacy, right? Falling in line. Living like a remote-controlled robot. Doing everything he says.”
I shake my head and push my toes against his knee. “Yeah, I don’t see that happening.”
“No?” He doesn’t seem so sure. “Why’s that?”
“Because you’re the most determined, self-focused, competitive person I’ve ever met. You don’t need your dad to ride your ass about stuff. Like, I’m sure he was pissed about us being co-captains, but you made it work. In the right way. Coach wanted you to do it and so did the headmaster.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, well, to my father that makes me... what was it he said?” He uses finger quotes. “An insolent, inadequate screw-up.”
I pull a face, because even though I’ve always known on some level that Mr. Bates was an asshole, that’s over-the-top harsh. “Gee, I can’t imagine why you didn’t want to go home yesterday.”
Hamilton nods in agreement. “Exactly. When I do what he says, I’m being a good son. But when I do what the coach and headmaster want, I’m weak.”
“But he’s wrong.” I explain, “Sometimes the best way to get ahead is to play along, and you know that. That’s not weak. Your dad just thinks he knows best because he probably tells himself he has your best interests at heart. Even though they’re really his best interests.”
Hamilton gives me a tired smile. “Since when did you get so smart about family dynamics?”
I blink at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
He looks like a sex god lounging on my floor, that’s what he looks like.
“I live with two flakey parents who, thankfully, found a super nanny to keep us alive, four adopted siblings that each came into the family with their own trauma, and—” I stop short, realizing what I’ve done. I don’t talk about my family at Preston. And I definitely don’t talk about them to a Devil.
His forehead creases. “What?”
I shake my head, looking away. “Forget about it.”
A slow awareness crosses his face and he sits up, pushing the pizza aside. He shifts until he’s in front of me, the knees of our crossed legs touching, and then gently plucks my hands from the floor, lacing our fingers together in the space between us. I let him do this, my eyes warily tracking his controlled movements.
He looks at me with an intent expression, lip caught between his teeth. “Alright, let’s make a deal. Whatever we talk about in here, stays in here. No judgements, okay?”
My biggest concern this whole time has been about betraying my family to this boy—this Devil. But over the last few days, I can’t deny a shift has taken place. He’s been kind. Sweet, even. He’s looked out for me and even defended me to the point of making his friends suspicious. If he can do all that, can’t I trust him?
Well, he did tell me about his sister.
“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “So, my mom is obsessed with us all maintaining relationships with our birth parents. The other kids are open to it, with frankly mixed results. But I’ve resisted.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?” I say defensively. “Who wants to foster a relationship with someone who sees them as easily disposable garbage? With someone who’s been nothing but a source of toxicity and hurt?” Hamilton seems to grow paler, going rigidly still, but I barely register it. “Someone who can’t tell their child who their father is, or wouldn’t even try to get off drugs, or do any of the things a real parent needs to do in order to raise a child.” Hot tears prickle behind my eyelids, vision going blurry. “Why should I? I like the mom I have, because... yeah, she’s not perfect, but even her worst traits are just a product of her love for us. My real mother is the person who raised me—not the one who birthed me. I don’t want to meet that person and I sure as hell don’t want a relationship with her. I don’t know why my mom can’t understand that.”