I hear my phone chime outside the bathtub, but I lie there longer, seeing how long I can hold my breath. I wonder how fast it would be. Could I open my mouth and take one big gulp, and that would be the end? I imagine water rushing into my lungs, filling them like water balloons.
I sit up straight, sucking in a giant gulp of air. My lungs are burning. It doesn’t seem possible that drowning can be painless if even imagining it hurts. I grab a towel and jump out of the tub as if the water might pull me under, suck me down the drain.
My phone screen flashes a new text from King asking if everything is okay here. He might be out partying, but his mind is here with me as I watch our family implode. Of course it is. Our family means more to him than anyone, even our parents.
I slump onto my stool and think of what to say. Something that will let them know Mom’s decision but reassure them that I’m fine with it. Something that doesn’t sound like I’m whining about being rejected by my mommy. After all, she rejected them, too. My heart squeezes for them. I know how much they love the city. I might want a chance to start over, but they have no reason to. They didn’t fuck up their lives.
At least we’ll all be together. That’s a consolation. They’ll be right by my side, conquering the halls of our new school the same way they did our old one.
And me?
Maybe I don’t want that anymore. I did all that, and look where it got me. I’m exhausted, used up, broken. It took too much effort to claw my way to the top and stay there. Once I got there, it hardly seemed worth it. There’s only one way to go when you get to the top.
This time, I get to choose. I don’t have to do it all again. No one in Arkansas will know who I am. I can be anyone. I could even choose to be no one at all. I’ve done the whole Queen B thing, the Dolce Princess thing. Maybe, like Daddy said, it’s time for a change.
three
Running away from our problems is a favorite family tradition, but this is the first time we’ve done it literally. Usually we float away on a numb cloud of bliss, watching a tequila sunrise after a night of valium oblivion. We fly around the world chasing the next opportunity, so we don’t have to look at the ones we’ve missed while standing in our own living room. But today, we ran.
I didn’t look back.
“Oh my god, what is this? I thought summer was over,” I moan as sweat breaks out on my face the instant we step off Daddy’s plane.
He spreads his arms wide and grins, his mirrored sunglasses reflecting back my own miserable image. “Welcome to September in the South,” he says. “We call this Indian summer.”
“First off, I’m pretty sure that’s an offensive term,” I say. “Secondly, what’s with all this ‘we’ talk. You’re from the Bronx, Daddy.”
“We make strong associations with the place we spend our formative years,” Royal murmurs behind me. “Dad’s obviously got some attachment to this place.”
I don’t see much to attach oneself to. The town is flat as a freaking pancake and so hot it makes me feel like an ant under some psycho god’s microscope.
“Where are all the buildings?” I ask. “Where are the people?”
“It’s a small town,” Daddy says. “Don’t worry. You’ll do great here. You’ll be a novelty at your new school. Everyone will want to make friends with you. And once they see how talented you are, making the team will be a piece of cake.”
“This one time, he might be right,” Royal says, taking my bag and leading me to the Cayenne waiting to take us to the new house Daddy bought. Apparently he’s been coming down here on business for a few months, and last week, he came down to get the house and cars settled. Now it’s real. We own a house here. We live here. Permanently.
It’s too surreal to comprehend. I’m a bundle of nerves, giddiness at the prospect of starting over mixed with the familiar fear that nibbled at my insides for the past six months. A blast of hot wind sweeps across the flat concrete lot outside the hangar, dust pelting my bare legs.
“This town is a joke,” Duke says, diving into the welcoming air-conditioned interior of the car. “We’ll own this school in two seconds flat.” He throws an arm around me as Royal slides in on my other side. Dad sits up front and directs the driver. King and Baron decided to road trip the move, mostly because they didn’t believe they could find the kind of cars they like in Arkansas. After seeing this town from the air, I have no doubt they’re correct.
“Please tell me that’s not our school,” I say, covering my eyes as we drive by a tan building with narrow windows that looks like a prison.
Duke laughs and gives my shoulders a squeeze. “That’s the public school. Look how sad it looks.”
I peek out from between my fingers and see a statue of a weird six-legged cat creature. A blonde couple stands against its base, making out while their friends talk and laugh around them.
A funny ache curls up under my sternum, and I tear my eyes away.
“Breathe,” I whisper, closing my eyes and laying my head back against the cool leather. My brothers are right. Daddy’s right. We’ll be fine here. We’ll go to the good school across town, not the one where trashy people make out in public for all the world to see. We’ll be fine. More than fine.
Royal gives my knee a quick squeeze, then twists around, watching the school until it disappears from sight.
“The only thing good about Faulkner High is the football program,” Daddy says from the front seat. “Believe it or not, they’re a big rival of Willow Heights.”
Willow Heights. Our new school. Dad came back from buying the house here with flyers about Willow Heights Preparatory Academy, application forms that his secretary filled out while he laughed about the ‘high tuition,’ which is peanuts compared to our old school. He made up the difference with a generous donation, which he promised would make us royalty with the admin the moment we walked in the door. It’s up to us to make sure we’re royalty with the students.
If we want to be.