15 years old…
There is so much pressure on me; I’m surprised I haven’t snapped, my mind caving to the darkness that follows me around like a black cloud. Growing up in Magnolia Hills is what most people dream about doing. The gated mansions, the sprawling yards, walking paths that are lined with Cherry Blossoms in the spring, and the golf course, where rich men and women frequent to make a business deal or two. All of my friends are from Magnolia Hills, and they can’t understand why I hate it. It’s because they aren’t being forced to live this life like I am. They don’t have to be away from their mom or their siblings to live in a stuffy, old mansion, with a grandfather who is colder than a dead fish and meaner than a two-headed snake. The fact that I even get to play baseball and sometimes visit my friends’ homes is a privilege, according to him. If he had it his way, I’d spend night and day studying, learning more than the three languages he is already forcing on me, and listening to him talk about his business, his name, and the legacy he wanted to leave behind to my dad, his son, before my dad gave it all up to marry my mom. My dad dropped his inheritance and the title of a future CEO to be with the woman he loved and impregnated.
Not that it did him any good though, my dad died unexpectedly eight years ago, and left my mom and me with nothing. My mom cried for days, not only because she lost her husband, but we barely had money to live on. She couldn’t make rent, and being only seven years old, I couldn’t help her with much. When my grandfather showed up to offer his help, my mom took it, not realizing the consequences. When I turned eleven, his shiny black limo came for me. I was going to start living with him and attending Magnolia Hills Academy. In exchange, he would make sure my mom’s rent was always paid. And when she remarried and had my half-brother, Brody, and half-sister, Seraphina, my grandfather gave her money to send them to a private school in their hometown. It turns my stomach every time I think of the way he controls us all; yet, I can’t do anything about it. I also won’t do anything about it because this is the only way that they will get an education that can set them up for all their future goals, and I can work on my father’s revenge at the same time.
My grandfather wants a CEO then I’ll give him one. I’ll build myself up; I’ll learn everything he wants me to and fill my brain with numbers until I’m spitting equations and quoting profit versus loss information, without ever needing to read the daily bulletin from his corporation or check the stock market. And once I do all of this, and the business is under my control, I’m going to merge it with Allister Holdings, York’s grandfather’s company, that is also waiting for him someday. Knight Industries will no longer exist and neither will my grandfather’s legacy. The legacy he pushed my dad away from, the legacy my dad ran from and in the process, he was murdered. Because my grandfather couldn’t have his son be a simple radio DJ, even though my dad loved it. He loved it so much, he took it for minimum pay, and because he needed money for me, he took a night shift where he was mugged on his way home. I can’t find any forgiveness for the man I call my grandfather.
The only time I find comfort in Magnolia Hills is when I visit the Allister mansion. The minute I step inside the doors, everything slows down and the anger I usually carry around fades to the background. York and Amelia manage to always take away my pain, without even realizing they’re doing it. Sometimes it’s as simple as an all-night game session or a batch of cookies. Those amazing cookies and the smile that Amelia gives me anytime we finish a plate full of them. I swear if I wasn’t so active in sports, I’d be huge from the number of cookies I eat. They’re delicious though, and I’ll always remember what she told me because those cookies really do make everything better.
Some days, I can’t shake the darkness or the hatred I let fester in me. On those days, I hide out in the willow tree, just to be alone, until eventually, Amelia makes her way down there. I don’t know if she thinks she’s alone, or if she chooses not to say anything because she knows I want to be alone, but she sings. For me or for herself, I’ll never know. I don’t stop her, though. I’m convinced her voice can heal more than her cookies can. After she sings, she leaves, and I always manage to pick myself up after and go back home. Needless to say, without the Allister siblings, I wouldn’t make it here. I’d snap. And that is something that terrifies me.
“If you keep making that face, eventually you’ll get wrinkles right there.” Amelia’s sweet little voice fills the space. York invited me over after school, knowing I was already at my breaking point for the day. I hadn’t even noticed I was frowning. The minute I swing my gaze to her, I feel my face relax.
“Hey Amelia.” I try and smile, but I can’t force it today, not even for her.
Her head tilts to the side, her shoulder-length blonde hair swaying with the motion. “Did the history test not go well?”
I snort, if only that was my problem. “Don’t worry about me, kid.”
She frowns, but shuffles closer into the living room. “You’re upset. Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. No, I don’t want to talk. I just want to sit in this house and get my comfort needs met before going back to the mausoleum I live in. It just happens to be one of those days where everything feels extra, and the weight of my circumstances is almost unbearable. Plus, she’s twelve, and while Amelia also knows the loss of a parent, I know she’s sheltered and protected here.
“I didn’t make any cookies, but I can,” she continues, and I do crack a real smile at that. I glance up and catch her eyes with mine. I watch the greens shift to blue and back while she watches me.
“I’m not really in a cookie mood.”
Her brows rise. “Not in a cookie mood? This must be serious then.”
I can’t help but chuckle. I guess in a way, it is true. I didn’t fail my history test, but I didn’t get a perfect score and that is just as bad as failing. Not that my grandfather will say anything about it, his disappointment will be expressed nonverbally, with an added study session over the weekend and eating dinner alone. I’m used to the quiet. I should be anyway, but for some reason knowing it’s because I didn’t meet his measure of perfection, I just feel pissed off. It feels like I failed.
“No, not in a cookie mood.”
“How about,” she walks farther into the room and sits at the piano, “a little song.”
I watch while Amelia taps out a beat with her foot, and her hands spread out over the keys. Her fingers look so small, and I sit up a little more in the chair, completely mesmerized watching her. Amelia hums under her breath, then her fingers dart over the keys. Immediately I recognize the song, and when she starts belting out Panic! At The Disco’s lyrics, all the tension leaves my body. The calm I’d been seeking since fifth period takes over and it’s all thanks to Amelia.
“Feel better?” York says, suddenly next to me. I glance up and see the smile on his face as well. His sister has that effect on us.
“Yeah,” I nod and shrug my shoulders, “I’m getting there.”
“Only a few more years, bro.” He bumps my shoulder with his fist, reminding me of my end goal. The bigger picture. We’re so close. Three years until I become an adult, and I can get my inheritance. After that, I’ll go to college and then proceed to dismantle my grandfather’s legacy, piece by piece. Only a few more years.
“You both look like you’re ready to take on the world.” Amelia slows her playing, grinning at both of us.
“Just planning our domination strategy,” York says, before winding his arm around his sister’s shoulders. She giggles, her eyes bouncing between us both. I’m jealous of their close sibling-bond. York is a good big brother, and I only hope I can be as good to Seraphina and Brody someday. They’re both still young and being away from them the majority of the year makes me think they might forget about me. I hope that they know what I’m doing is for all of us in the long run. To be free of Emilio Knight.
“Do you feel better now?” Amelia’s small voice pulls me from the dark path my mind is heading. I glance at her and find her smiling at me. I can’t help but smile back.
“Yeah,” I nod and stand from the chair I was slumped in, “thanks, Amelia.”
“You want to stay for dinner? Then we can catch the game on tv after,” York asks.
“Sounds good, man,” I agree.
“Can I watch too?” Amelia tugs on her brother’s shirt, and he grins down at her.
“Of course, Mia.” He tugs her with him, and I follow them to the kitchen area.
I watch as they rifle through their cupboards and pantry in order to find food they want to eat. Even though their grandfather is richer than mine, and I know they have a chef, the siblings don’t always rely on them. Sometimes a frozen pizza is just better than an extravagant salmon dinner. The muscles in my chest ease with every joke they tell and every question about my day that Amelia asks. With her and York here, I start not to hate everything around me as much. I fall easily into normalcy.
