All weekend I was tormented with thoughts of Rhys Blackwood. It was wrong to be thinking of him. And I knew it.
Every cell in my body screams to run in the other direction, but some part of me wants to see just what was is wrong and illicit about him. I want to know firsthand what all of the other girls whispered about in the hallway. See what the truth really is, who was Rhys Blackwood?
Obviously, it’s the part of me I wouldn't be listening to since he and his friends were probably going to be in jail for a really long time for burning a house down and God only knows what else. My stomach aches with the thought of being involved in this fucked-up mess. I should have never listened to what wasn't meant for me. Now, I'm just as guilty as they are by keeping their secret hidden.
I wish I had never been in the library that night.
When my phone begins to vibrate on my vanity, I let out a pained groan when I see Victoria’s name on the screen. I can answer and listen to her lecture me on the importance of fasting and giving carbs up, not just for the sake of Jesus, but for my figure since it’s "less than ideal" for a girl my age.
Her words exactly.
But if I don't answer, then she'll just call incessantly until I finally do answer, and she’ll send me graphs of weight ranges and obesity in females under twenty-five. It is exhausting.
Unlike most girls my age, I didn't even have a problem with my weight. Did I need to lose a few pounds around my love handles, and eat less bread since it went straight to my ass? Sure. But I wasn't what society would deem as “fat” by any means.
I just wasn't perfect. Not in her eyes at least.
And less than perfect meant you were a flaw in her plan. She worked entirely too hard to create this image to anyone looking inside our glass house. An image her friends at the country club, the girls in the women's society, all of my father's influential, rich friends, cared more than anyone could image about. The real, real housewives of Orange County. This image meant everything to her. And since I was not a size zero, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and the IQ of a lab rat… I didn't fit the mold she desperately wanted me to.
Her image included way too much Botox, fake boobs that put most porn stars to shame, and enough lip filler to keep her afloat if she was going to drown. Sighing, I swipe across the screen and answer. Better to get it over with now rather than later, when I'm in public and she FaceTimes me ten times until I pick up.
"Valentina, darling," her velvet purr singsongs through the line.
My eyes roll on their own accord.
"Hi, Victoria." I plaster on my fake "let's pretend we like each other for the sake of my father" voice. Sickly sweet, and not an ounce of real.
"How is school? I trust you are keeping your GPA up? Completing your assignments? Your father is paying a fortune for St. Augustine." She laughs.
Here we go.
"Of course I am. I have a 4.0 and perfect attendance. No infractions." I glance into the mirror as I speak to her, taking note of how dull my hair looks with the large purplish-blue bags under my eyes. I reach for the concealer on my desk and start applying a too-thick layer to cover the obvious evidence of no sleep.
"Oh great, honey. So, you know on Saturday mornings, I do yoga with Joann down at the country club. Joann? You know, Marie Ella’s mother?
"Uh-huh."
She starts talking a mile a minute and I have a hard time even keeping up with what she's saying. "Well, her daughter, Amelia, just tried these new magic diet pills. Not that I think they're actually magic, but she said apparently she lost ten pounds in less than two weeks! Wouldn’t it be amazing?"
Uh, no, it sounds unhealthy and makes me queasy just thinking of what she's ingesting to actually make it happen.
"Sure," I lie.
"Anyway, I told her to send me the link to purchase and I bought you a six-month supply! They should be at your dorm any day now. You know Christmas break will sneak up on you and we have the charity gala with all of Los Angeles' politicians, we must look our best."
I don’t reply.
"Valentina, sweetie, are you still there?"
I let out a ragged sigh.
"Yes, Victoria, still here. Thanks for the heads-up, I'll be on the lookout for it. How's Dad? I haven’t heard from him lately." I try to cover the hurt in my voice, even if she won't notice, but it hurts that my dad hasn't even bothered to pick up the phone to check in on me after my load of summer school classes. It's like, just because I'm thousands of miles away, I don't exist any longer.
I'm surprised Victoria calls and pretends as much as she does, it's not like my dad pays attention to anything in my life anymore.
“Oh, sweetie, you know how busy your father is. He’s got a big, high-profile case he’s working on right now…” She trails off.
Shocker. Once again I’m the least important thing in my dad’s life.
My heart pangs and I clear my throat. "I really need to get off and get to class. Thanks for checking in on me, Victoria."
I don't bother giving her the chance to respond as I end the call.
After the call with her, and the fact that my dad hasn’t even bothered to pick up his phone and call or text, my mood is sour as I gather all of my books and my laptop, shoving them in my backpack. I grab an oversized cardigan off the rack on the back of my door, shoulder my bag, and head out. The halls are buzzing with the "new year" feeling since it's the official start of our school year. With a little over a month of classes so far, there is a sea of new faces, mostly freshman, and then there’s the same crowd from last year. The ones like me, who stayed through the summer because being locked away at a boarding school a million miles from home was better than being at home. There were things that most, if not all of us, were trying to escape.
I make my way over to the main building which houses most of my classes, aside from Latin and religious studies. The huge, cathedral-type building is so tall I have to crane my neck up to see the black, wrought-iron cross that sits at the top of its highest peak.
From the outside in, St. Augustine is the epitome of a Gothic style, Catholic boarding school. Everything is old and worn-looking, but in the most sophisticated way. Touched by the hand of God himself, is what Sister Mary Margaret would say. She's in charge of us girls, but the poor lady really can't keep up. Especially in a school filled with girls like Mara, who are the actual spawn of Satan.
It's a dog-eat-dog world within these walls of stone. A hierarchy only understood by those who live it.
The founding families who set the foundation of this school and the town together are the ones who reign. They are royalty here, and everyone who lives here knows it. The Boys of St. Augustine who reign so cruelly. As cold as ice. There's the girls who sit on the throne and rule with crowns of ice and castles made of glass. They flaunt their money, their more than perfect bodies, their last name like it's their birthright… and I guess, it is. Then, there's people like me. Outsiders. The ones who have been thrown to the wolves, who either fight or get eaten alive.
The morning passes uneventfully, and I say a quick Hail Mary for the little things. Mean girl and her shit-for-brains posse seem to have been actually learning to pass the time without tormenting me. That’s the thing about being invisible, you pass by undetected, usually. I’m the first person to walk into English lit, early as always, and I pick a desk at the very back. I pull out my laptop, notebook, and pen, preparing for the lecture, then grab my iPad to read the book I’ve been engrossed in. I keep my iPad in my bag so I can read if I have any downtime.