I WAKE up first thing Monday morning to my mother knocking on my bedroom door promptly at nine, pushing her way inside with a large, pure white box clutched between her hands.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” she chirps. “You have a delivery.”
I push the hair out of my eyes, squinting at her as she sets the box on my desk and goes to my window, pushing open the curtains. It’s a gray day outside but still bright enough to make me groan and fall back onto the pile of pillows.
“I’m on break,” I tell her. “Let me sleep in.”
“I couldn’t stand waiting any longer.” She goes to my desk, grabs the box and hands it to me. “This came for you about an hour ago.”
I sit up, the box in my lap. I know who it’s from, but I have no idea what’s inside. Anticipation makes me feel downright giddy, and I stare at the lid, wondering what he could’ve sent me now.
“Oh my God, open it, darling!” Mother practically screeches.
Laughing, hoping it’s nothing dirty, I pull the lid off and push away the layers of white tissue paper to reveal a slightly smaller box inside, wrapped in glossy black paper. I pull it out, tearing off the paper like a little kid at Christmas, to see it’s a Polaroid Now Instant Camera. A special edition featuring Keith Haring.
“I didn’t even know this existed.” I examine the box, staring at the photo of the camera. It’s a bright, vivid red, with one of Keith’s trademark radiant babies on the front. The back of the camera is a black and white composite of his art. It’s beautiful.
Meaningful.
My heart literally pangs at the sight of it.
“A camera? Oh, it’s Keith Haring.” Mother plucks the camera box out of my hands, studying the box as she reads the description. “This is so fun. I assume it’s from the Lancaster boy?”
Nodding, I reach inside, pushing past the tissue paper to find another slender black box containing a Chanel lipstick. When I open the box and pull the lid off the tube, I see it’s a bright, rich pink.
That’ll look good on his skin, I can’t help but think.
There’s a note, and I hurriedly open it, hoping my mother doesn’t notice.
For our next photo session. I think that pink will look good on your lips.
xx,
Crew
If he’s trying to make me swoon, he’s doing a good job.
“He likes you,” Mom says.
I glance up to find her watching me carefully. “I like him too.”
“I told your father you could do worse.” She sets the camera box beside me on the bed, then settles down on the edge of the mattress. “Is he nice? I ask, because he’s a Lancaster. They’re notoriously not nice.”
“He’s nice to me,” I admit softly, pulling the camera box back onto my lap. “I just wish Daddy wasn’t so upset over this.”
When I came home last night after my afternoon with Crew, my father barely spoke to me. I’m sure he assumed who I was with, and I didn’t confirm or deny it. I never told him anything. But he can keep tabs on me still.
He had to know I was with Crew. At his apartment.
“You’re his little girl. He doesn’t want you to grow up. I keep telling him you have to become your own person sometime,” she says.
I decide in that moment to ask her the question that’s been on the tip of my tongue since the last gift arrived. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
Her expression turns contrite. “It’s tough to hear your daughter call you out for your cruelty.”
“I truly believed you didn’t like me,” I admit, my voice small.
“It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with your father.” Her tone is faintly bitter. “He’s busy working. Or worrying about you. I didn’t see where I fit into the equation, so I lashed out at you whenever I could. And that’s awful. I was jealous of your relationship with your father. I felt pushed out of our family of three.”
I hate that she felt that way, but I hate worse that she took it out on me when I was just a kid who wanted both of their attention.
She releases a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, Wren. I hope you can forgive me.”
When she grabs hold of my hand, as if that’s all she could dare to touch for fear of being rejected, I pull her closer and wrap my arms around her, resting my head on her shoulder. We cling to each other for a long, silent time, and I think she might be crying.
I’m a little misty-eyed too.
Eventually she pulls away first, sliding her fingers under each eye to catch any stray tears, a watery laugh leaving her. My mother has never been an overly emotional person. “Why did he give you a Keith Haring camera? I’m curious.”
“I went to his family’s apartment yesterday,” I admit. “And I was admiring the Keith Haring painting they have.”
“Two Dancing Dogs?” she asks.
I nod, not surprised she’d know which one it was. “It’s beautiful. I told him I liked it. And he sends me this.”
I hold up the camera.
“How sweet.” A soft sigh leaves her. “Young love. First love. Enjoy it, darling. There’s nothing else like it.”
“Oh, I don’t think he loves me,” I’m quick to say. “It hasn’t been very long…whatever this is that we’re doing.”
“Modern love.” Another sigh leaves her and she slowly shakes her head. “This is where I admit I feel old and don’t understand the ways of teenagers anymore.”
“I don’t think we’re that different from when you were a teen,” I say.
“There are a few differences. Social media, for one.” She stands and starts heading for the door. “You can go back to sleep now. I was just curious over what he sent you today.”
Mom shuts the door behind her and I flop back onto the bed, reaching for my phone so I can send Crew a text.
Me: Got your gift. I love it. Thank you.
He responds almost immediately.
Crew: You’re welcome. Want to come over for a photo sesh?
I’m smiling so wide it hurts.
Me: I’m surprised you’re awake.
Crew: My brother called me at seven. Such an asshole.
Me: What did he want?
Crew: He’s been helping me out with something.
Me: ???
Crew: Can’t explain it over text. I’ll tell you later.
Crew: Did you like the camera?
Me: I LOVED IT. A Keith Haring camera? So awesome.
Crew: This way you don’t have to risk saving the images on your phone. In case your dad figures out your password.
Me: No one will figure out my password. Not even you.
Crew: What about the lipstick?
I drop my phone and grab the lipstick, slicking it on my lips and using my phone as a mirror. I take a selfie and send it to him.
Crew: Hot.
Me: Not too pink?
Crew: On you? It’s perfect. Come over.
Me: Right now?
Crew: We’re both awake. No one is at my house. Get your pretty ass over here.
I should not find it attractive that he says things like that, yet here I am.
Enjoying it.
Me: I need to get ready first.
Crew: I’ll send a car over.
Me: Peter?
Crew: Yeah. He’s a good dude. Knows how to keep a secret.
His words make my stomach sink. Is that all I am to him? A secret?
Does a boy buy you gifts and indulge you in your weird urges to cover his body in lipstick kisses think of you as a secret? I don’t know.
I can’t worry about it.
Me: I’ll text you when I’m ready.
Crew: I’ll keep Peter on standby. Don’t forget the camera and the pink lipstick.
I drop my phone onto my nightstand and crawl out of bed, heading for my walk-in closet. I don’t know what to wear today. Definitely not a dress, though that had been fun. And cold.
Especially when I went home last night. I was freezing by the time I walked into our apartment. The look on my father’s face was one of utter disappointment as he watched me take off my jacket, revealing my outfit.
I don’t know what Mom said to him to keep him quiet, but I’m grateful for it.
I quickly dress in jeans and a sweater, pulling my hair back into a high ponytail. I slip on my lug sole boots and exit my bedroom to find my father standing in the hall. His hands are in his jacket pockets, his gaze on the painting hanging on the wall. He glances over at me, his expression flat.
“I was waiting for you.”
There goes Mom keeping him quiet.
I pause near my bedroom doorway, almost afraid to get closer. “What’s up?”
Why is he here? It’s a Monday. He should be at work.
“What do you want to do for your birthday?” His smile is hopeful, which worries me.
I don’t know how he wants to spend it, but I want to be with Crew. Maybe not on my actual birthday, but that’s okay. I can spend the next day with him. I want it to just be me and him, doing whatever I want to do.
My entire body flushes hot at the possibilities.
“Oh, I don’t know.” I shrug, hoping I don’t have to come up with an answer at this very moment.
“You said you wanted to go out of town.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I’d rather stay here.”
“You want to have the party here, after all? We can get invites out today.”
I slowly shake my head. “I don’t want to do that either. Not anymore.”
“But it’s your eighteenth birthday.” Daddy frowns. “It’s a special day. We should celebrate.”
He’s pushing me into a corner I won’t be able to get back out of. “Don’t you have to work?”
That’s always his excuse. He’s constantly working, and for once, I want him to be too busy to spend time with me.
“I can take some time off. I own the damn company.” He chuckles. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but I can’t contain it any longer. We’re going on a trip.”
“Who?”
“Me, you and your mother. For your birthday. To Aruba. We leave Christmas day. Your birthday.” He grins, looking pleased with himself.
While my heart falls. “I don’t want to go to Aruba.”
“It’s a beautiful resort, Pumpkin. I got us a family suite with three bedrooms. A private chef. The best they had available, which took some finagling since we planned this so last minute. We’ll be there for a week.”
A week without Crew. Leaving on my birthday. “Does Mother know about this?”
He shakes his head. “I haven’t told her yet. I’m sure she’ll be excited.”
I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but…
“I don’t want to go.”
He frowns. Takes a couple of steps toward me. “Why not? It’ll be fun, Pumpkin. A chance to get away. Get some sun and sit by the ocean. Forget all your troubles and school and snow.”
“I’d rather stay home. I don’t mind the snow. I can see what few friends I have while I’m here, and that’s enough for me.”
“I heard about your teacher. Figueroa?”
I go completely still. I’d forgot all about that. Out of sight, out of mind. “Oh.”
“You didn’t even tell me.”
“I sort of forgot, with everything else that happened.” I’m implying that he’s the reason I forgot, with his demands that I come straight home.
“You used to tell me everything. Now I have to find out from the news that your teacher was arrested for having sex with a minor.” He visibly shudders. “Imagine if he tried that with you?”
I don’t bother telling him he wanted to. He’d just put me under lock and key if he knew that. “I have to go, Daddy.”
“Where are you going? It’s so early. I’m surprised you didn’t sleep in. I know how much you like to.” His smile is gentle, and he’s trying. I can tell. But it’s almost as if he’s trying a little too late.
He spied on me. He’s never trusted me. He saw the photos of me and Crew together and that’s just so…
Embarrassing.
It’s going to take me a while to forgive him for that.
“I’m going to see Crew.” I stand up straighter, practically daring him to tell me I can’t.
His mouth thins into a firm line and he just stares at me for a moment. As if he can’t believe this is what I’ve turned into.
“We’re going on that trip.”
“No.” I shake my head. “You and Mom can go. I’m not.”
“I already paid for your ticket.”
“Well, ask for a refund. I don’t want to go. You can’t make me. I’m going to be eighteen in a few days. An adult.” I lift my chin, hoping he doesn’t see how this confrontation is making me shake.
He looks furious. I don’t do this—defy him. Ever. “You still live under my roof.”
“I’ll go live with someone else then, until I have to go back to school. I don’t really live here anyway.” I try to push past him, but he stops me, his fingers circling around my upper arm, keeping me from escaping.
“Who would you go live with, hmm? That supposed boyfriend of yours?”
I try to jerk out of his hold. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“You two are just fucking then? Is that what he tells you? He’s only using you. And you’re letting him.”
My father’s eyes lock with mine and I physically recoil, desperate to get away from him. Why is he acting like this? Saying such awful things?
“You changed your iCloud password because you’ve got something to hide,” he continues. “I thought I raised you better than this.”
“It’s not that I have anything to hide, it’s that you don’t trust me so you think it’s okay to invade my privacy! That’s not right.”
“I am your father. I can do whatever the hell I want. I made you.”
I jerk out of his hold, right as my mother appears in the hallway.
“What in the world is going on?” She is so calm. Like ice. Impenetrable.
“I’m leaving.”
“Going to the Lancaster residence?” When I nod, she smiles. “Have fun, darling. Don’t stay out too late.”
Daddy is gaping at her like a dying fish, his mouth opening and closing as if he can’t find the right words. “You’re just going to let her—leave?”
I march past him, stopping to give Mom a brief hug before I keep walking.
“You need to stop treating her like a little girl, Harvey. I’ve already told you this. The tighter you hold onto her, the more you’ll make her run,” I hear her say.
She’s so right. He keeps holding me too tight.
And I keep wanting to run away.
